Against Spiritual Inoculation
By Stephen Carter on Dec 14, 2006
When I encountered D. Jeff Burton’s inoculation metaphor in the September 2006 issue of Sunstone (“Coping With A Deadly Pandemic,” pg. 60), I admit to getting a little hot under the collar.
Burton tells the story of a man who has been a faithful member his whole life, serving in high positions. Then one day he purchases a Kirtland Bank note, which leads him to research the history of the Church (without official lenses), which leads to some very deep questions.
One of his quotes really struck me, “[I] began to feel as if I had just been told (at age 58) by my mother than I was an illegitimate child.”
Amen, brother.
Burton knows that this thing goes on all the time and that people fall away from the Church over it. With the advent of the Internet, so rich in unauthorized information about Church history, Burton suggests that we treat the revelation of the seamier sides of Church history as a pandemic. The best thing we can do, he says, is to inoculate for it. In other words, expose the Saints to a weakened strain of the virus in order to help them build up immunity to it. That way, when they meet with the disconcerting fact, when they encounter the scandal, they’ll say, “Oh yeah, I heard that before. I think it was even at church, so it must be OK.”
And they go on their way, undisturbed, fulfilling their callings, paying their tithing.
This approach has its merits. It certainly jives with Burton’s explicit agenda, which is to keep “the borderlanders” going to church. It does the job of questioning the investment LDS people put in the theological significance of their church’s history. Perhaps it can free us up to contemplate more significant matters.
But it has a hidden premise that seems strange to me. It seems to be saying that a healthy church member is an undisturbed church member. The member through which the virus has not passed is spiritually stronger. But the inoculation metaphor seems to be overlooking one very important part of the human experience, namely the need to have built one’s spiritual vision for oneself. When my youthful vision of truth was infected (against my will) it started me on a journey that has meant more to me than all the time I spent secure in my Mormon cradle. I didn’t recover from the virus. I grew from it.
I’m glad I wasn’t inoculated.
But maybe I’m misreading Burton. Maybe he’s pulling for something that I’ve always wanted: more vigorous, more honest, more person-oriented (rather than principle-oriented) church environments. A place where doubts are welcomed, where people who have been decentered can find an empathetic community, a place where people can find virtue in their “disease.”
Jesus said he didn’t come to minister to the healthy, but to the afflicted. Perhaps afflicted is another word for growing. The Church of Jesus Christ of the Latter-day Afflicted.
“Spiritual innoculation” sounds like some sort of Brave New World or 1984-ish mind control procedure, but Mormon pedogogy and cultural experience do not allow for the development of skills necessary to evaluate and integrate dissonant facts into their testimonies. While “innoculation” may be a wrong approach, the Church needs to give its members tools to incorporate the grey into the traditional black and white “Follow The Prophet” dogma.
Comment # 1 by ECS | Dec 14, 2006 | Reply
“Oh yeah, I heard that before. I think it was even at church, so it must be OK.”
If that thought is capable of stopping someone from further investigating an intriguing or disturbing historical possibility, they probably didn’t need to be inoculated anyway. They could have just said, “I’ve never heard that before at church, so it must be wrong,” and stop investigating there.
I was inoculated. There was a copy of the Journal of Discourses in my parents’ home, and I gleaned all sorts of weirdness from it growing up. A seminary teacher gingerly broke the news about Joseph Smith’s polygamy. But none of that stopped me from taking a fresh look at those and other issues as an adult, and growing from the experience.
Comment # 2 by Beijing | Dec 14, 2006 | Reply
It seems to me that the process Burton describes is less of an innoculation and more of a lobotomy.
I suppose either one could be seen as a good thing is one’s highest ethical value is to stay an active member of the LDS Church. But should membership in any church–even if there is such a thing as a “One True Church”– be the basis of one’s values and ethics?
Shouldn’t knowledge of objective truth(knowledge the actual facts)–whatever its source–figure into it?
Comment # 3 by Rob Lauer | Dec 14, 2006 | Reply
While the term “inoculation” might imply some aspects that are negative, I do think that members should have a level of awareness about the issues that are likely to come up. I’m not saying that everybody needs to be able to debate the finer points of Adam God theory, but the concept of “ignore it and it will go away” is less true than ever in the internet age.
Comment # 4 by a random John | Dec 14, 2006 | Reply
I had this same thought as I was struggling with the new truths that I was being confronted with. Why didn’t anyone ever tell me any of this? Why wasn’t I prepared to deal with any of this. I fancied myself a gospel scholar of sorts and felt comfortable with my testimony of the restored gospel. I had read most of the church approved histories and knew the issues most anti groups talked about before serving my mission. Up until it hits you in the face, there are really no problems.
For me, things were fine for many years until one day I just woke up questioning everything. I refused to check my brain at the door in exchange for warm fuzzies. The truth as it is now available on the internet is much more damning than any anti literature I ever read from years past. Most anti material was laughable up until the late 90’s. Now, we have “anti” material that comes straight from the source. The kicker is that the bulk of it is true in one shape or another.
I realize that for many members, finding out about these nuggets of apostasy is not a problem. They make the decision to trust their feelings and testimony and then compartmentalize these issues. For many of us, that’s just not possible. Truth is Truth. Hiding the Truth from members does no good if they end up finding it. Inoculation on the other hand would serve the purpose of both educating and protecting members from “apostasy”.
I’m convinced that had I been inoculated, I would still be an active believer. If I were going to set out to indoctrinate my children the way I was, I would be sure to be more extensive in what I taught them and would be sure they were fully “inoculated” as well.
For any TBM’s out there, I think it’s vital that this is done.
Otherwise, the truth may just set them free.
Comment # 5 by Simeon's Peep Stone | Dec 14, 2006 | Reply
I wanted to add that I too am happy that I was not Inoculated. I’m not sure it’s for the same reason though. If growth can be defined as finding out the truth and then leaving the church, then I’m happy for the growth I’ve gone through. Part of me wishes I could still believe and that the things I’ve read hadn’t effected me . . . wishes are funny that way.
Comment # 6 by Simeon's Peep Stone | Dec 14, 2006 | Reply
This “inoculation” sounds a lot to me like “strawman arguments for children.” What’s the purpose of a strawman argument, after all? To erect a figurative effigy of the opposing argument that fails to contain its real essence and is instead easily knocked down by paltry arguments. And, of course, the effigy does not answer, doing its appointed duty of biting its lip and slinking away in shame.
As if the extremely manipulative indoctrination they receive already is not enough.
The truth of the church’s history and the sociopolitical positions it has taken are irrefutably damning. No disrespect intended, but I am consistently amazed at the fact that NOMs can compartmentalize that away, ignore the terrible harms the big lie has caused and continues to cause innocent people, and decide that it is still good and that, perhaps, the big lie must evolve to a kinder, gentler big lie. It is to be remember that the Catholic “el secreto” was a strategy for keeping people in the Catholic church after they saw the holes in its logic and the fallibility of the Pope.
I suggest reading Ursula K. LeGuin’s The Ones Who Walk Away from Omelas, a quick short story that is easily findable on the internet.
Regards,
Gluby
Comment # 7 by Gluby | Dec 15, 2006 | Reply
But the inoculation metaphor seems to be overlooking one very important part of the human experience, namely the need to have built one’s spiritual vision for oneself.
When I read the above in Stephen’s post I was reminded of a passage from Cormac McCarthy’s novel The Crossing. The boy Billy meets a man in a deserted Mexican village who tells him: “I am a Mormon. Or I was. I was a Mormon born. Then I converted to the [Catholic] church. Then I became I dont know what. Then I became me.”
A couple of days ago I was rereading from Jung’s Memories, Dreams, Reflections, a memoir of sorts. He felt that the only thing he could rely on was his own experiences. “I was and remained in search of myself, of the truth peculiar to myself,” he says. By that he doesn’t mean a realtive truth, but the inner voice, as opposed to an external source that tells you how to live and when you have achieved spirituality.
Is the purpose of the Church to make certain everyone stays withint the structure, dressing the same, have the same answers to all questions, showing up on time to the same meetings, because that is the only path to happiness here and hereafter. Or does the Church provide a foundational education so that one can go beyond the institution on a spiritual journey where “I’ll go where you want me to go; I’ll do what you want me to do,” is the basic article of faith?
Comment # 8 by Parker | Dec 16, 2006 | Reply
Parker, I think, in general, Christianity is somewhat limited to that form; it is first and foremost a religion of obedience. The obedience is ostensibly to Christianity’s god, but, as it turns out, its adherents are to render obeissance to church leaders. The second principle, almost equal to the first and certainly required for its maintenance, is the principle of blind faith. Deviance is heresy, and Christianity is fervent in its opposition to heresy.
These are extreme constrictions that allow for little variation, unless they are simply ignored or rationalized away, as they are in more liberal sects. But, even where relaxed, they remain as an ever-looming guillotine blade over the neck of rationality and independent moral or spiritual discovery.
Thus, it is not the “innoculation” metaphor that overlooks “the need to have built one’s spiritual vision for oneself”; it is the structure of the religion itself. Any deviance from this rigid norm is the result of two main causes: the intrusions of Enlightenment rationalism and scrutiny over the past few hundred years into Christianity’s rather broad sphere of control, and Christianity’s loss of the theocratic control required to strictly enforce its edicts. After all, one cannot legally stone to death children who investigate other religions anymore.
Gluby
Comment # 9 by Gluby | Dec 16, 2006 | Reply
Gluby,
Of course you are right regarding the obedience principle. I am not particularly interested in the innoculation metaphor, because I am not particularly interested in ways of keeping people active in the LDS Church. I am interested in how people relate to the Church, as they carve out their own spiritual journey, particularly when they discover they aren’t being particularly nourished by the Church—perhaps they feel safe, but not spiritually edified.
The following comment by Barbara Brown Taylor from her book Leaving Church appeals to me. Regarding church she says: “What if people were invited to come tell what they already know of God instead of to learn what they are supposed to believe? What if they were blessed for what they are doing in the world instead of chastened for not doing more at church? What if church felt more like a way station than a destination? What if the church’s job were to move people out the door instead of trying to keep them in, by convincing them that God needed them more in the world than in the church?”
While that appeals to me, I recognize that the LDS Church is in no position to take such a stand. It has to maintain that a principle of righteousness, a celestial law, is obedience to priesthood leaders. Otherwise a new Joseph Smith might arise, and the Church could not bear that. It, in fact, is having a difficult enough time accomodating the one it already has.
Parker
Comment # 10 by Parker | Dec 16, 2006 | Reply
This is a simple retelling of the milk/meat metaphor. One of the problems with helping people to handle the meat is that congregations range from people who know very little about the history or doctrines of the the church to those who consider themselves authorities to some degree on these subjects. No wonder Christ tought in parables…
Comment # 11 by Ryan Nerd | Dec 18, 2006 | Reply
Parker, I love that Taylor quote. Is the rest of the book as good? If so I’m going to have to get my hands on it.
Ryan, I’ve been thinking about the milk/meat thing too, and I wonder if it isn’t a little misleading. One thing I’ve been starting to learn is that people’s spiritual journeys are very different indeed. For example, my wife likes children’s literature, I like gritty realism. Is one milk or meat? I thought so until I started talking with my wife about the plots of the books she read and started seeing some really startling metaphors that I would not peg as milk.
I’m beginning to think that maybe a lot of people can see the metaphors in childrens literature just fine and dont’ need the gritty realism like I do in order to benefit spiritually.
Comment # 12 by Stephen Carter | Dec 18, 2006 | Reply
Stephen,
I like your post and think it has a lot of merit. I especially think you’re right on in your critique that more effective inoculation might lead to “undisturbed” Saints who go on “fulfilling their callings, paying their tithing” and, in so doing, postpone or completely eliminate major spiritual growth opportunities that encounters with non-correlated facts (I like William James’s term “wild facts”) can lead to.
But I’m not totally with you in your reading of the “hidden premise.” First, I edit Jeff’s column and know him pretty well, and he certainly doesn’t believe that “a healthy church member is an undisturbed church member. The member through which the virus has not passed is spiritually stronger.” So let’s not lay that at Jeff’s door. I can see the hidden premise more fairly applied to a strain of thought among some LDS folk, and perhaps even among some leaders. But my experience with leaders at the upper levels is that, for the most part, they don’t believe that. As one said to me in relation to Sunstone but that I can see would apply also to apologetic groups, as well and the questions raised in this post (paraphrased): “The issues you deal with are things that are going to come up for many members in the course of their life. I’m personally glad you’re there to provide an opportunity for them to wrestle with those things in a community setting rather than having them encounter the questions, not immediately find anyone in their ward or family to talk with constructively, get depressed and leave the Church thinking that no one else has their same questions.” Church leaders have all been stake and mission presidents. They’ve had stewardships that have brought them into contact with folks they love who have wrestled with such things, and to some degree, they, too, have had to face some mismatches between rhetoric and reality.
Though I have a ton more to say, I don’t want this post to be too much longer, but let me offer a bonus to SunstoneBlog readers by posting a link to this article by Mike Ash in the new Sunstone issue that has been hitting mailboxes these past couple of weeks. I point you especially to the two-page sidebar, “Information Innoculation: Helpful or Harmful” on pages 5-6 of the PDF file (pages 38 and 39 in the magazine). It is a much more thorough look at the issue of inoculation than Jeff Burton was able to give in his Borderlanders article that your post is reacting to.
I’ll revisit this thread to see if anyone bites on engaging some of the issues Ash raises. I’d especially like to see what folks think of the comments by Stanley Kimball about Level A, B, and C teachings, and especially Kimball’s sense that were he a Church leader, he’d probably make the same decisions about what exposure level at which to keep Sunday instruction.
Cheers,
Dan
Comment # 13 by Dan | Dec 18, 2006 | Reply
Good critique, Dan. You’re right that I wrote my post without much knowledge of Jeff beyond what the few articles of his I have read. I’m glad to know a little more about him.
Instead of innoculation, maybe we should talk about sanatoriums. I’ve been rereading Thomas Moore’s Care of the Soul where he talks about hospitals and other places of healing, not as places one goes to rid oneself of the disease, but a place to understand the disease and to interact with other people who are going through the same thing.
When you emerge, you are not the same person. Your body has been altered, perhaps it is weaker. But your soul has benefitted.
Comment # 14 by Stephen Carter | Dec 18, 2006 | Reply
Okay, so I can’t wait!
Gluby and Parker, I just don’t see obedience as anywhere close to as central as you do—especially as you frame it regarding to what is the essential message of Christianity. Certainly it’s one note in the Christian melody and perhaps a bit more familiar chord in Mormondom, but to portray it as so totalizing seems to me a real perversion of both systems. (Gluby: “ever-looming guillotine blade over the neck of rationality and independent moral or spiritual discovery”? A Christianity that if it could would want to “stone to death children who investigate other religions”?) I can’t see obedience even making my top five list of what the key themes are, and I don’t see myself as simply ignore[ing] or rationaliz[ing] away” those elements. It certainly isn’t anywhere close to central in scripture.
Why do you focus there instead of on first principles, “true religion” as service to the downtrodden and social justice, eternal progression, Zion building, spiritual gifts, and all the expansive ideas?
I’m with everyone who has called for the LDS church (and churches in general) to value spiritual journeying more than it currently does, but I don’t see any benefit in going to such extreme characterizations in order to make the point. Clearly plenty of people grow and journey who are grateful for the fundamental grounding they received in Mormonism, for the growth opportunities church-service and stewardships have offered and continue to offer them, and for the feedback they continue to get from their more theologically conservative colleagues when they express an opinion that just doesn’t match reality.
Dan
Comment # 15 by Dan | Dec 18, 2006 | Reply
Stephen,
I love your call at the end of your original post for “more vigorous, more honest, more person-oriented (rather than principle-oriented) church environments. A place where doubts are welcomed, where people who have been decentered can find an empathetic community, a place where people can find virtue in their ‘disease.’” And your reminder that “Jesus said he didn’t come to minister to the healthy, but to the afflicted. Perhaps afflicted is another word for growing. The Church of Jesus Christ of the Latter-day Afflicted.” These, along with your introduction above of the sanatoriam idea are all terrific. I want my Sunday meeting and general ward environment to be those things, too.
Fowler (a shock, I know, to hear me mention him or Stages of Faith ) is wonderful on that point. In the final chapter of SofF, he urges churches to take continuing spiritual development in adulthood seriously, suggesting that they: de-emphasize “belief” in propositional, doctrinal formulations; focus on faith as relational (truth is “a pattern of being in relation to others and to God”); make provisions for “adults to bring their struggles with faith to word” (that they “be given the help of active listening in order to tell their present stories and visions of faith, and to hear those of others.”); and create a “climate of developmental expectation.”
All these things, if begun, would make my Mormon life much more fulfilling, and I know that we as a church could make far more progress in these areas than we currently are. But until we move ahead in a major way, that’s why I’m involved with Sunstone; that’s what I think we as a foundation are very much about.
But, as I hinted at in asking what folks think about the A, B, and C level teachings mentioned in the Ash sidebar, I’m not at all sure this sort of thing should be the sine qua non of the Sunday and ward experience. What do you, or anyone else, think? How do we balance all the other needs the Church is called to meet with our felt need for our faith struggles to be heard?
Comment # 16 by Dan | Dec 18, 2006 | Reply
I find the ABC levels to be a bit misleading. I don’t think it goes A= good, true and harmonious, B= anti-Mormon ((evil, false and chaotic), C= Reconciliation of the existence of B.
I’d be more willing to say, A = One story, B = a competing story, C = the synthesis of the two.
You could definitely run circles around me here, Dan. But I’ve always liked Hegel’s idea of thesis, antithesis and synthesis. When a thesis and an antithesis come together it is never to the total destruction of one or the other, it is always to a synthesis of the two.
The mindset of both A and B try to preclude the possibilty of C. And as long as people accept that premise, they will be at the mercy of the best storyteller.
If I were running the church, I have to admit that I’d run it into the ground. Stanley is right, keeping everyone on story A is the best way to run a large institution. Large institutions are interested in preserving themselves, and in order to do so, they have to convince its followers that it is in their best interest to keep following.
No church would grow if it were a way station, or if it were trying to help people on to the next level. But, hey, maybe institutional growth is overrated.
In answer to your last question, “How do we balance all the other needs the Church is called to meet with our felt need for our faith struggles to be heard?” my answer is pretty simple so far. I keep my mouth shut in church. The way I figure it, my needs are outweighed 300 to 1. It would be pretty selfish of me to mess up something that is going so well for so many other people.
So, in the privacy of my office, I write my struggles and try to make them into something beautiful (you’d be amazed at how frequently I fail). Then I send them to people who care. Frankly, I don’t think the church is interested in my particular talents. But other people are, so I’ll take the best route to get to them instead of insisting that the Church make a place for me.
Comment # 17 by Stephen Carter | Dec 19, 2006 | Reply
Dan,
The reason I emphasize obedience as a fundamental principle of the Church is simply because ethnographically it screams out at you. I think it is so penetrating that there are times we wish to close it off, inoculating ourselves against both the demands and the implications that often we can feel better than we can articulate. I don’t think there is any question that the law of obedience is the first law of the Church; the law of sacrifice is the second. Because the law of obedience is so prominent we seldom get to the law of sacrifice, or we redefine it so that it becomes a thinly veiled obedience. The law of sacrifice as I understand it is giving over yourself to the still small voice (in its many varied appearances). Or, as someone has said, “Carefully observe the way your heart draws you and then choose that way with all of your strength.”
How often in Church are you reminded that “to obey is better than sacrifice?” How often are we told to “follow the brethren?” It doesn’t require a seer stone to translate “follow” as obey. Review the temple recommend questions. Are they about conformity and obedience, or about your spiritual welfare? Isn’t it interesting that not even a simple question about prayer is on the list. Ask your September friends where they think obedience stands in one’s relationship to the Church.
No I don’t think it overstates it at all to say that obedience is a fundamental and central aspect of Church governance. That doesn’t mean that obedience is a dirty word, or an inexcusable practice. I don’t think any one of us think that the Ten Commandments no longer serve a purpose. But in terms of the spiritual journey I think it was Joseph Campbell who reminds us that we have to go out into the desert and slay the “Thou shalt Not” dragon, less it burn us to a crisp, or gobble us up, or whatever it does that anesthetize us against the spiritual voice (compass?) guiding us on our own journey (mission? Vocation?).
Parker
Comment # 18 by Parker | Dec 19, 2006 | Reply
Hi Stephen,
Enjoying the conversation! The ABC thing is definitely simplistic, and I, too, like Hegel’s model. In fact, the thesis/antithesis/synthesis model has always fit well, IMO, with the developmental theory stuff I’m so fond of. Every earlier stage, though it is to be transcended, is vital, and growth is always a “transcend and include” affair.
My only small disagreements with anything you say in your post #17 come in the area of not quite qualifying enough for my taste the matter of institutions acting to preserve themselves when the institution in question is a church whose very charter, in large measure, is to roll forth and fill the earth (dubious exegesis of Daniel notwithstanding). I’m with you if you mean “growth for growth’s sake” is overrated, but I’m not overly suspicious of organizational dynamics that keep working on ways of being more effective in reaching more people, especially if the group is convinced, and I’m sure LDS leaders are, that their message and mission is a worthy one.
Where I’m hoping for change to come some day is in trying to run the whole thing from Salt Lake City in the strong, hands-on sense that is currently being tried. Given ideas about priesthood keys and a sense of the rigid hierarchical structure as divinely designed, large-scale change is likely a long way off, but I think a lot less looking to Utah for direction on everything could lend to much more effective, dynamic on-the-ground pastoring that can lead to the kind of nurturing that participants in this thread have been calling for.
I’m sure my idea of giving more power to the inmates would also “run the Church into the ground” as you’re afraid you would were you in charge, but it’d sure be interesting! I’m sad that you and others have opted for less sharing during meetings and in other formal Church settings. We’re glad you share your journey and ideas with us in places like this! I just wish you’d try it more in face-to-face Sabbath settings. I tell you, it’s not that hard to get really interesting and constructive discussions going even there. A few setbacks will come up here and there, but even those often lead to great things in the hallways afterward and in phone calls and conversations in the weeks following.
Comment # 19 by Dan | Dec 21, 2006 | Reply
Parker,
I always enjoy interacting with you, and I especially love your example and call for deeper spirituality and listening to our hearts and following the path our own compasses are pointing out. I hadn’t remembered the Joseph Campbell quote about slaying the “Thou Shalt Not” dragon. Very cool. Thanks!
On the place we disagree, I can only sigh with a Wittgensteinian resolution to the truth that indeed all seeing is “seeing as,” all experience is “experiencing as.” Meaning (that we bring with us and that operates at a subconscious level) truly must be part of the very things we see and experience for you and I clearly are not having the same encounter. I certainly still meet obedience rhetoric in Church settings, it’s absolutely not foreign to today’s LDS culture, but it isn’t at the level of a “scream” for me, not “so penetrating” that it is part of my experiencing at anywhere close to the level it is for you and Gluby.
If there were fifty unique ideas offered during a given three-hour block, my guess is in an average week, fewer than five would be most accurately characterized by the obedience or follow the brethren theme. But as I encounter those things, far more often I experience what folks mean as they are “looking to” them (for counsel, example, encouragement) more than they want to “obey” or “conform.” Far more often, my experience is of people just trying to do their best, raise their families, be good neighbors, fill their minds with good things, comfort others. They come to church for strength from community, good sentiments, service. With you, I’d like to see more emphasis on worship, prayer, and encounter with mystery, but I just can’t go with you on the fundamental principle of the Church being obedience. (And I can’t even begin to extend that into the wider Christian religion the way Gluby does in his post.) If I have time, it’d be a good exercise to look at the past year’s worth of conference addresses. I wonder if they’d bear out something closer to your experience or mine with regard to current dominant gospel messages?
Cheers!
Dan (aka: “Mr. Sunshine”)
Comment # 20 by Dan | Dec 21, 2006 | Reply