I've had something on my back-burner for SO LONG that it's left permanent scorch-marks.
Finally, thanks to an article in Salon.com, by THIS woman, I did something I've meant to do, oh, for the past 22 years. (And I should also note here that I'm basically plagiarizing her letter with few edits of my own).
IMO, Proposition 8 is probably nothing more than a bump in the road on the way to authentically unbiased, unprejudiced civil rights for all...it just means it will take a bit longer to get there. And for people who might have never otherwise thought about it, this experience has hopefully made them think about whether they want to live a life exemplifying hate or love.
However, for me, Prop 8 is significant as a catalyst for something I've needed to do for a long time:
Member Records Division, LDS Church
50 E North Temple Rm 1372
SLC UT 84150-5310
This letter is my formal resignation from the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints.
As of November 4, 2008, I terminate my membership.
The LDS church has participated in a hate-filled political campaign against the rights of families in California and other states, and this is the catalyst for my action.
Please remove the name Rebekah Waffle (birth date: March 16, 1970) from the records of the LDS Church immediately — as dictated in the General Handbook of instructions. I understand that my resignation from the church cancels the effect of baptism, withdraws the priesthood (not applicable to me as a woman), and revokes temple blessings. I hereby withdraw my consent to being treated as a member and any tacit consent membership implies that I might be subject to church rules, policies, beliefs and disciplines.
As I am no longer a member, I want my name permanently and immediately removed from the membership rolls of the LDS church.
Please promptly complete the form “Request for Administrative Action”, and forward it to the appropriate Stake President. You will need to send me a letter telling me that you have done so. Further, I formally demand that the 30-day holding period be waived, and that the Stake President forward this letter and the form to the Office of the First Presidency as soon as he receives it.
I will not participate in church court or disciplinary council, as I am no longer a member.
I do not wish to be contacted by anyone except by mail confirming that my name has been removed from the records. This includes home teachers, visiting teachers or any church leadership attempting to visit my home or contact me by telephone.
I do not condone your church’s overt encouragement of members to campaign against the civil rights of others. While I have other beliefs at odds with Mormon teachings, it is this issue which has finally given me the push I needed to withdraw my membership.
Rebekah Waffle
November 15, 2008
I should add here that I have a large adoptive family. I am the only non-Mormon out of my parents, 3 siblings, their spouses, 20 nieces and nephews, their spouses (the ones who are married) and 2 great-nephews.
My parents are old and love their church. My siblings and their kids are not old and love their church.
At least one member of my family reads this blog semi-regularly, so whenever I post about my whole round-and-round about God, Mormons, dinosaurs and wizards and peepstones and loving everybody no matter who THEY love, I know that I've got at least one person from that world who might (repeatedly and consistently) be offended by me. And, goatess, I love your support and the fact that you never huff off and don't return. It's important to me to work through what I need to work through, even in a public forum, but I always feel bummed that it might seem unkind or ungrateful to a family I genuinely love.
This matter, though. I'm not sure how it will be taken.
In my mind, it's a formality. I haven't been much of a Mormon for the past 20+ years other than my obsession with how that's shaped my worldview.
I can't see it as making much difference, but sometimes I'm surprised by what matters to other people and what doesn't. Maybe they'll see it as a way to make change, or start a dialog. Or maybe they'll see it as a gross insult. Hard to know. And it may not come up at all. But, for what it's worth, it's the sole thing that's held me back until now.
Showing posts with label Mormons wear funny underwear. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Mormons wear funny underwear. Show all posts
Saturday, November 15, 2008
Wednesday, November 12, 2008
The Great Why
I've been thinking a great deal about religion lately. Er, if "lately" can mean "since-2001-when-the-entire-United-States-seemed-to-become-in-a-flag-waving-911-backlash-frenzy-a-more-conservative,-religiously-bent-place-to-live".
I grew up in the US equivalent of Vatican City and didn't realize, until leaving Salt Lake, that most people don't get a religious analysis of world events on the nightly news. Or that most newspapers don't have a "Church News" section that's 16-20 pages long. That not everyone views their entire global experience through biblical glasses. Except, you know, many of them do.
At any rate, my attenuation to religious rightwingery is probably a bit acute and hypercritical, but not without provocation. Mainly, this comes back to my family.
I can believe that there is a world of people I don't know very well who believe things which are (to me) overtly suspect. But when it comes to my smart, analytical family, I am perplexed. And relieved, too, that I escaped that particular orthodoxy.
I think metaphysics is an important topic, and when my kids are old enough to both understand my beliefs and that they can also explore whether they share those beliefs or not, we'll talk about it more seriously. When I recently tried to explain to Milo why grandma and grandpa don't believe in dinosaurs, I had to laugh. Trying to find euphemisms he would understand, "God" became "a very powerful wizard" (like I'll never have to deconstruct THAT later...).
That might be unfair to their beliefs, but I can't feign reverence for the entire creationist package. Which is not to say that the universe in it's particular perfection doesn't awe me, but I find the concept of a sacred, cognizant, man-focused creator as likely as believing that it was all done by Santa Claus.
I take my disbelief in invisible powerful beings (as well as salvation and sins, atonement, begatting, motes in your eyes and camels through needle eyes) pretty seriously. Even though, in the end, I think it's all just a big pile of dogma (ho ho).
And I find myself constantly wondering why, taking nearly exactly the same path, my siblings and I arrived at precisely the opposite location. From my seat, it's almost as though my entire family is mentally ill: believing in invisible entities, following directions from incendiary plant-life, a wealth of predestination, eating bread they refer to as a piece of a dead body, and, for that matter, zombie worship. So...clearly it's difficult for me to "get" religious people.
Do they really believe absolutely and more-or-less literally in all that stuff about Mohammad/Buddha/Moses/Krishna, floods, locusts, crucifixion, frogs, pale horses (and in my family's case, golden plates, peepstones, plural wives, priesthood...)??
Because that's a LONG list of complicated, conflicting stories to add to the standard list of ethics, appreciation, self-care and socialization (kindness, cleanliness, self-awareness, empathy...etc.) that everybody everywhere has to figure out.
When you add guilt and atonement and baptism and sacraments and prayer and whatnot various minor rituals and goat sacrifices and bible quoting to all the basic information...how do they ever navigate the already difficult waters of...living?? Is all that self-loathing gratifying? Can't you just forgive yourself? Can't you listen to your own voice standing up for what you feel is right or wrong? Can't you just appreciate the universe without doing what you are told by some pious talking head, let alone believing that it was created for YOUR benefit? Do you really need to eat that (proxy) dead body and drink that (pretend) blood?
Am I an atheist because I was adopted, and told from the outset by my parents that they expected me to fail at living with their piety (aka fitting in) because I was the product of sin? Am I a product of negative-wish-fulfillment on their part?
I'm grateful for the ways in which being regarded as an outsider led me to skepticism. My birth parents and their families are also ones who have left the religions of their birth (Judaism and Catholicism respectively) for more personal quests of beliefs, so maybe I inherited an innate restlessness with pigeon-holes, particularly those of a metaphysical nature.
Whatever the source, I wouldn't trade my belief that life is precious because it is our total experience for one which thinks we are infinite and ultimately destined for glory. Despite the palliative comfort in that belief, it is self-deluding.
At any rate, that's my longish off-the-cuff of today. What's the point? What, really, do people get out of being religious aside from that delusion of a luxurious, infinite afterlife? Is my entire family a bunch of self-deluded liars?
Because they all claim to have frequent spiritual encounters with the metaphysical universe, burning bosoms (seriously) and still small voices. Which just....you know...sounds crazy and/or liarist. And that's my perpetual conflict. I love my family. I respect that they want to pursue truth in all forms. And that for us, truth has taken on completely opposite trappings.
I grew up in the US equivalent of Vatican City and didn't realize, until leaving Salt Lake, that most people don't get a religious analysis of world events on the nightly news. Or that most newspapers don't have a "Church News" section that's 16-20 pages long. That not everyone views their entire global experience through biblical glasses. Except, you know, many of them do.
At any rate, my attenuation to religious rightwingery is probably a bit acute and hypercritical, but not without provocation. Mainly, this comes back to my family.
I can believe that there is a world of people I don't know very well who believe things which are (to me) overtly suspect. But when it comes to my smart, analytical family, I am perplexed. And relieved, too, that I escaped that particular orthodoxy.
I think metaphysics is an important topic, and when my kids are old enough to both understand my beliefs and that they can also explore whether they share those beliefs or not, we'll talk about it more seriously. When I recently tried to explain to Milo why grandma and grandpa don't believe in dinosaurs, I had to laugh. Trying to find euphemisms he would understand, "God" became "a very powerful wizard" (like I'll never have to deconstruct THAT later...).
That might be unfair to their beliefs, but I can't feign reverence for the entire creationist package. Which is not to say that the universe in it's particular perfection doesn't awe me, but I find the concept of a sacred, cognizant, man-focused creator as likely as believing that it was all done by Santa Claus.
I take my disbelief in invisible powerful beings (as well as salvation and sins, atonement, begatting, motes in your eyes and camels through needle eyes) pretty seriously. Even though, in the end, I think it's all just a big pile of dogma (ho ho).
And I find myself constantly wondering why, taking nearly exactly the same path, my siblings and I arrived at precisely the opposite location. From my seat, it's almost as though my entire family is mentally ill: believing in invisible entities, following directions from incendiary plant-life, a wealth of predestination, eating bread they refer to as a piece of a dead body, and, for that matter, zombie worship. So...clearly it's difficult for me to "get" religious people.
Do they really believe absolutely and more-or-less literally in all that stuff about Mohammad/Buddha/Moses/Krishna, floods, locusts, crucifixion, frogs, pale horses (and in my family's case, golden plates, peepstones, plural wives, priesthood...)??
Because that's a LONG list of complicated, conflicting stories to add to the standard list of ethics, appreciation, self-care and socialization (kindness, cleanliness, self-awareness, empathy...etc.) that everybody everywhere has to figure out.
When you add guilt and atonement and baptism and sacraments and prayer and whatnot various minor rituals and goat sacrifices and bible quoting to all the basic information...how do they ever navigate the already difficult waters of...living?? Is all that self-loathing gratifying? Can't you just forgive yourself? Can't you listen to your own voice standing up for what you feel is right or wrong? Can't you just appreciate the universe without doing what you are told by some pious talking head, let alone believing that it was created for YOUR benefit? Do you really need to eat that (proxy) dead body and drink that (pretend) blood?
Am I an atheist because I was adopted, and told from the outset by my parents that they expected me to fail at living with their piety (aka fitting in) because I was the product of sin? Am I a product of negative-wish-fulfillment on their part?
I'm grateful for the ways in which being regarded as an outsider led me to skepticism. My birth parents and their families are also ones who have left the religions of their birth (Judaism and Catholicism respectively) for more personal quests of beliefs, so maybe I inherited an innate restlessness with pigeon-holes, particularly those of a metaphysical nature.
Whatever the source, I wouldn't trade my belief that life is precious because it is our total experience for one which thinks we are infinite and ultimately destined for glory. Despite the palliative comfort in that belief, it is self-deluding.
At any rate, that's my longish off-the-cuff of today. What's the point? What, really, do people get out of being religious aside from that delusion of a luxurious, infinite afterlife? Is my entire family a bunch of self-deluded liars?
Because they all claim to have frequent spiritual encounters with the metaphysical universe, burning bosoms (seriously) and still small voices. Which just....you know...sounds crazy and/or liarist. And that's my perpetual conflict. I love my family. I respect that they want to pursue truth in all forms. And that for us, truth has taken on completely opposite trappings.
Thursday, September 25, 2008
Portland!
A friend of mine recently pointed out that Portland, OR is an entry in the Stuff White People Like book. And, while Portland IS full of things from that book (bumper stickers, hybrid cars, wine, coffee, organic farmers markets, pan-asian-fusion-restaurants, threats to move to Canada, bicycles, lawyers, dogs, living by the water...), his snarky take on our smug whiteness has made me take a step back from my adopted city to think about it.
Portland has a LOT of public art. Some good. Some weird. And THIS:
Lots of alternative types. Like him (that's famous papa-Nomad): 
Lots of new-age-bookstore-birkenstock-psychic-reading-pan-pagan-types (The Secret was published by a local Portland publishing house): 
And we are the coffee/wine/book capital (per capita) of the US:
So that's a large city with a big load of, dancing/protesting/drumming hippies, a side of homelessness (we are bleeding hearts, but not foolproof, apparently), and naturally there's as much extreme yuppie-ism as the rest of the left coast, lots of strippers (really, like...a LOT of nekked here), and rain rain rain... (along with mold, mildew and some of the other fun things that go along with mold)...
It's a mixed bag of interesting and irritating, but I like it here. I've got access to several (although, sadly, fewer all the time) independent bookstores, including the BEHEMOTH of independence, Powell's. Yuppie, organic, beautiful coffee 24 hours a day. Lots of wine, booze, food. It's a city of excess about our excesses. And sure, smug about it. And very white. That's problematic. But not intrinsically wrong..
I grew up in Salt Lake.
Which has a lot of this:
Some of this:
and this...
And WAAAY TOO MUCH of this:
Tuesday, August 12, 2008
Dinosaurs vs. Wizards
Overheard in the Waffle car, on the way to preschool today:
Milo: Graham (his best friend) says that dinosaurs died in hot weather, but I don't think that's true.
R: I think you're right. But maybe he was talking about the thing that made them die out. (follow vaguely abbreviated lecture from mom about the meteor-hitting-earth-atmospheric-changes-followed-by-dinosaur-death theory).
Milo: I don't believe it was a meteor that did it. (Note the general tone is sooo skeptical. LOVE that kid!) Because meteors don't do that now.
(follow 2nd abbreviated, encapsulated and only substantially accurate lecture from mom about big-bang-theory,-planetesimals-and-why-massive-meteors-don't-hit-the-earth-anymore).
Milo gazed out the window for a minute or two. Possibly thinking about the pre-universe-all-matter-source-which-precluded-the-Big-Bang, which always gets me all amazed. Or possibly bored and/or overwhelmed by my double-barrelled lectures.
Then he said:
M: Mom, why don't some people believe in dinosaurs?
R: Hum. I don't know. My parents, your grandma and grandpa F, don't exactly believe in dinosaurs, but I don't have a great answer as to why.
Milo: WHAT? GRANDMA AND GRANDPA DON'T BELIEVE IN DINOSAURS????!! That's CRAZY!?! Have they seen the bones??? What DO they believe in?
R: Um...(totally thinking hard about how to explain "God", creationism, a 7000-year-old earth theory, and the history of Mormonism and Christianity and the suppression of scientific thought to my smart, cynical 4.5 year old)...they believe that a, um, really powerful wizard made the earth and that dinosaurs aren't exactly part of the history of this earth.
M: Wait. They believe in a wizard but not dinosaurs????
R: Um...basically. Yeah.
M: WHY???
R: I don't exactly understand why, honey, even though I think about that all the time.
M: Even when I'm old, I'm going to believe in dinosaurs. NOT a wizard.
R: Sure. Remember, everybody has to decide what they believe in. Maybe when you are older you'll decide that a giant carrot made everything. And that's ok, right?
M: When I'm old, I'll still believe in dinosaurs. Not a wizard. Not a carrot.
...and that's FINE with me.
Milo: Graham (his best friend) says that dinosaurs died in hot weather, but I don't think that's true.
R: I think you're right. But maybe he was talking about the thing that made them die out. (follow vaguely abbreviated lecture from mom about the meteor-hitting-earth-atmospheric-changes-followed-by-dinosaur-death theory).
Milo: I don't believe it was a meteor that did it. (Note the general tone is sooo skeptical. LOVE that kid!) Because meteors don't do that now.
(follow 2nd abbreviated, encapsulated and only substantially accurate lecture from mom about big-bang-theory,-planetesimals-and-why-massive-meteors-don't-hit-the-earth-anymore).
Milo gazed out the window for a minute or two. Possibly thinking about the pre-universe-all-matter-source-which-precluded-the-Big-Bang, which always gets me all amazed. Or possibly bored and/or overwhelmed by my double-barrelled lectures.
Then he said:
M: Mom, why don't some people believe in dinosaurs?
R: Hum. I don't know. My parents, your grandma and grandpa F, don't exactly believe in dinosaurs, but I don't have a great answer as to why.
Milo: WHAT? GRANDMA AND GRANDPA DON'T BELIEVE IN DINOSAURS????!! That's CRAZY!?! Have they seen the bones??? What DO they believe in?
R: Um...(totally thinking hard about how to explain "God", creationism, a 7000-year-old earth theory, and the history of Mormonism and Christianity and the suppression of scientific thought to my smart, cynical 4.5 year old)...they believe that a, um, really powerful wizard made the earth and that dinosaurs aren't exactly part of the history of this earth.
M: Wait. They believe in a wizard but not dinosaurs????
R: Um...basically. Yeah.
M: WHY???
R: I don't exactly understand why, honey, even though I think about that all the time.
M: Even when I'm old, I'm going to believe in dinosaurs. NOT a wizard.
R: Sure. Remember, everybody has to decide what they believe in. Maybe when you are older you'll decide that a giant carrot made everything. And that's ok, right?
M: When I'm old, I'll still believe in dinosaurs. Not a wizard. Not a carrot.
...and that's FINE with me.
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