Details forthcoming.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Today is a football Saturday. LSU is in town. A good portion of my family—my parents, my brothers, Bill and Anne, Parker and Austin—is here for the game. Austin texted me two days ago informing that he’d reached a “psycho-spiritual breakthrough within the Nowness of the Yes.” I texted back a smiley face. The text hadn’t read “delivered” for more than a few seconds before my phone started buzzing. Austin was calling.
“Hey, man,” I said. “Super excited that you guys are coming up here.”
“Brother,” he replied, almost panting, his voice coated in equal parts exasperation and exhilaration. “It finally happened. IT finally happened.”
I didn’t know what to say so I said nothing.
“IT finally, finally happened! Do you understand?”
“…uh, that’s awesome. I’m really happy for you.”
“I just can’t, I can’t believe it, brother. I mean all these years and then finally it was like I realized that my whole life the one thing I’ve been missing is daily concentrated lackadaisical pondering sessions. You see what I mean?”
“…”
“Rhett, you still there?”
“Yeah, I’m here.”
“Rhett, Rhett, it happened for me! I finally get it! I get life, brother. And it’s just so simple when you finally get it. When you finally understand. Look, I was going about my daily Now awareness and was really trying to align my consciousness with deep nothingness and chaotic peace, of course in light of the thrown off burdens of the semi-bearable lightness of being. And then I just happened upon this bookstore—a used bookstore of all places!—and found the thing I’ve been searching my whole life for: a guide, a lodestar in lines, a prose printed pharos-
“You’re talking about a book?”
“Not just a book, brother! The book of all books. Written by the eternal guru Sir Duke Baron Wisesage Doctor Haadiya Haady Maari-Maatanga Quamar Ichpujani Wilson. Have you, have you heard of him?”
“No,” I said.
“He’s unbelievable, Rhett. His personal story alone is fodder enough for three, four movies. But anyways, the book is called The Nowness of the Yes, like the text I sent you, just now, you know-
“Yeah.”
“Rhett, Rhett, Rhett, oh brother. It will change your life. It will change everything. What he basically says, and it’s just so beautifully simple in its genius, is that all the problems in the world, all the things different religions have incorrectly labeled ‘sin,’ are a product of people hustling and bustling around, chasing success and money and trying to get ahead. Pigeon watching, he says, is the answer to everything. Daily concentrated lackadaisical pondering sessions. If the whole world, just imagine, he says, it’s easy if you try, imagine if the whole world stopped working and stopped trying to be ‘successful’ and just found a nice park bench, sat down, and watched the pigeons in silence, imagine what kind of world we’d have…brother, I don’t think I’ll ever be the same again. I haven’t gone to class in a week and a half now. I’ve been pigeon watching for twelve, fifteen hours a day.
“…”
“Rhett, are you…Rhett, you there?”
“Yeah.”
Everyone is staying at Uwe and Shelby’s. Bill and Anne have been in Starkville for a few days. Bill has been working with David on a house in Sessums. They’re putting in a new bathroom.
The game isn’t until seven o’clock tonight. We plan on getting onto campus by noon or one for the tailgating and all the pregame stuff. I wake up early and try to get some work done on my dissertation. And then, just as I crack open the computer and take my first sip of coffee, there’s a knock at my door. I check the time. 8:20. Who could it be this early?
I open the door and see two young guys, no older than twenty I’d guess, dressed in matching black slacks and white short-sleeved dress shirts. One is wearing a plain black tie. The other is wearing a purple tie with small white dots; each sport a nametag on which is written, right below the name: The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints.
“Good morning, sir. I hope we didn’t wake you.”
I shake my head. “No, no problem.”
“We are missionaries from the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints. My name is Elder Redd and this is Elder Sherlock.”
I shake their hands in tandem, beginning with Elder Redd.
“Do you have a moment?”
“Sure, come on in.”
When I think of Mormons I think of a people of prodigious natural beauty and artist talent. For who can watch a Kirby Heyborne movie without taking great pleasure? Napoleon Dynamite, one of my favorite movies of all time (although conspicuously lacking the contribution of Mr. Heyborne), and a comedy classic that just happens to take place in my home state, sprung from the loins of Mormon cinematic genius.
Most people know Napoleon Dynamite is set in Idaho (in Preston, a very small town on U.S. 91 about an hour south of Pocatello and near the Utah border). Few people know the depth of Mormon influence on the film. The director, screenplay writers, the actors who play Napoleon, his friend/crush Deb, and Napoleon’s technological wizard brother, Kip, are all Mormons, along with many others who worked on the project, I assume. The final product evolved from a short film entitled Peluca, first conceived in a BYU film class.
All of Idaho is beautiful. I’m very partial to Boise and its oasis-like quality amidst a desert climate reminiscent of Nevada. I love northern Idaho, with its deep forests, Palouse hills, and plentiful snowfall. Central Idaho is great. And the southeastern part of the state that runs from Preston up through Pocatello and Rexburg, even to Idaho Falls, envrirons that could sport the moniker “Mormon Idaho” without exaggeration, has its charms as well. I’ve always thought representatives from these counties should petition Congress to reestablish the ancient State of Deseret, even if in a greatly diminished form compared to the mid-nineteenth century behemoth.
Bear Lake is the crown jewel of Mormon Idaho, physically in two states, straddling the border with Utah in the extreme southeastern part of the Gem State. Bear Lake has been nicknamed the “Caribbean of the Rockies” because limestone deposits give it a bright turquoise color. It’s worth the trip. I wonder if either Elder Redd or Elder Sherlock have any family from Mormon Idaho. I wonder what they think of Napoleon Dynamite. I know, intuitively, that they are huge Kirby Heyborne fans because not to be is some kind of crime within the complex webs of LDS jurisprudence.
The missionaries sit down at my table. I pour them some orange juice. I grab a glass myself.
Elder Redd gets right to it. “Can I ask you your religious affiliation?”
“I’m Catholic,” I say.
“Catholic. Well, you know there’s a lot of things that are similar between the LDS Church and the Catholic church.”
I take a few sips of my juice. He continues.
“What our goal is,” he motions towards Elder Sherlock who is bonker-chugging, pop-lock chugga-lugging his juice, emitting desperate gasps of air in between swigs, along with a few snorts and quick twitched lip licks, “is to increase your own faith. Not to challenge it. Not to change it, or you,” he brushes his hands in the air in front of him as he says this, “but to add to your faith in Jesus Christ. To show you why the fullness of truth is in the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints.”
“Well,” I say, “it looks like we’re at an impasse. I believe the fullness of truth is in the Catholic Church. So for me to add anything would be to dilute that fullness. You get what I’m saying, like in the final parts of the Book of Revelation.”
“I understand,” Elder Redd says, “but we believe the whole point of faith is to see things through Heavenly Father’s eyes. Not my eyes, not yours. You see, when the priesthood was restored in May of 1829 what had once been damaged was now repaired. The connection that had been lost to Christ and to the Church was now recovered. Our whole mission is to share that with people, like you, so they can join i
n this good news themselves.”
“How do you square that with what Christ says in Matthew 16?”
“How do you mean?”
“Christ tells Peter that he, Peter, is the rock, and upon this rock Christ will build His Church and the gates of hell won’t prevail against it. I think you’d agree there’s a strong emphasis on the singular; my Church, not churches, denominations, sects. Don’t you think this passage becomes nullified, along with Jesus’ entire plan for the Church, if it fell apart, like you claim, if it became absent for nearly one thousand eighteen hundred years and had to be restored?
Wouldn’t the gates of hell have prevailed? What about all those believers living in between the establishment of the Church and its restoration? They’d have no recourse to salvation, no access to the life giving structure of the Church. I’m sure you know that we have this doctrine, extra ecclesiam nulla salus, ‘there is no salvation outside the Church,’ the point being that the Son of God, God Himself, came to Earth and founded His Church and so, it stands to reason, you’ve gotta follow the dictates of this One Church because that’s how God wants it. Maybe it really is that simple. But not only that, there are these conduits of His grace, all these helps, the sacraments, most especially Baptism and the Holy Eucharist which we need; I mean, we need them. And so about ‘no salvation outside the Church,’ I’d guess you guys have a similar philosophy. Isn’t that the whole point of your missionary work? To get people inside the one true church founded by God. And to proclaim the urgency of this, the necessity of it all, because if it’s not necessary, if there’s tons of routes to the summit, then who cares, you know? But so if both of us share this same basic philosophy, even if the content differs so much, then tell me again what happened to all those poor souls who hoped in Christ, trusted in His promise of a Church that would stand the test of time? He either lied or wasn’t able to, wasn’t strong enough, to keep this pledge, both terrifying in the implications I think you’d agree. Do we have this great chance of salvation simply because of luck, because we were born in 1982 and not 1682? Look, what I’m saying is is that if ‘Word’ is the result of our own impoverished language, and the far better term is ‘Logos,’ the Incarnate Logos of God, then where is the logos of everything you’re talking about; the reason, the structure and the simple rationality of it all? How does it make sense within the Christian framework you say we share?”
Elder Redd starts tapping his fingernails on the table, perhaps unconsciously. He still hasn’t touched his juice.
“But by your logic—ah, logic, from the Logos, right, we’re on the same page, right?—wouldn’t it be the same problem for those born before the time of Christ?” he asks. “Couldn’t they too then just ask, ‘what happened to all those people?’ ”
“Sure,” I say. “I agree with you, that people could ask that. But look at what the Catholic Church teaches on this matter. So much of it comes down to the circumstances of the individual in question. Our Catechism—I think it’s number eight hundred and forty something—teaches that while this doctrine of no salvation outside the Church stands, it doesn’t apply to those who through no fault of their own do not know Christ or the Church. It goes on to say that these people can achieve salvation, the means by which, I guess, is known to God alone.”
“Okay,” Elder Redd says, “so then no need for your sacraments.”
“No,” I say, “there’s every need; every need in the normal circumstances of things. Look at John Chapter 6: unless we eat Christ’s body and drink his blood we have no life within us. We need the Eucharist. John 3:5: without baptism we cannot be born again into the Kingdom of God. The end of Mark’s gospel and its two stipulations on salvation: whoever believes and is baptized, packaged deal, will be saved. And then John 20 when Christ establishes confession, he breathes on his disciples, the only time we see this anywhere else in Scripture is in the Genesis creation account. So, yes, of course, the sacraments are not just important but essential. And anyone who has heard and understood this truth is bound in some way to try and act on it.”
“So now Elder Sherlock and myself will surely be damned. Now we’ve heard the ‘truth’ from you,” Elder Redd scare quotes the word truth so hard I see his knuckles turn white, “and if we don’t become Catholics immediately it’s the great lake of fire for us.”
“I can’t judge you. I definitely hope you’re not damned. Even if for a very selfish interpretation of do unto others, I mean I don’t want me or my family in hell, so how can I wish that on anyone?”
“So do you or do you not believe in hell?”
“Of course I believe in hell. I’m saying I hope no one goes there.”
“But you think people are there. Actual, real people who walked the earth are now there.”
“It would seem so,” I say, “tragically. The judgment of nations in Matthew’s Gospel, the sheep and the goats, those on the right and left, the consensus on the matter by the Church Fathers, the revelations of the Blessed Mother at Fatima...look, when it comes to hell I love this one prayer best of all: ‘Oh my Jesus, forgive us our sins, save us from the fires of hell, lead all souls to heaven, especially those in most need of thy mercy.’ ”
“You’re saying the emphasis is on all in that prayer,” Elder Redd says.
“Yes.”
“But again, back to your original criticism, those people who lived before Christ, what did they have, nothing then?”
“Nothing? No. They had the Jewish Covenant, The Law.”
“But I mean the pagans.”
“Don’t we agree on natural law? On conscience? That if we’re made in God’s image and likeness then we really are fundamentally more similar than dissimilar? Everyone can know basic right and wrong, without any religion. If they had no way of knowing the fullness of truth, truth capital T, that can’t be held against them. I’m not saying they’re guaranteed to be saved, only not guaranteed of damnation. And that I’m really, really hoping for God’s mercy because I need it.”
“You’re saying a good man is a good man.”
“Sure.”
“Then why not become the best man you can be? Join the LDS Church.”
“I think I’ve explained my position pretty well.”
“It seems to me you’re saying that you both believe your church is necessary for salvation and that it’s not,” Elder Redd says.
“I’m not saying that,” I counter. “Far from it. Here, let me give you my final best summary of my view and I’ll leave it at that, okay?”
Elder Redd nods. Elder Sherlock is in the kitchen, pouring himself a third glass of OJ, with that finishing off a two days past date carton. If these missionaries have given me a spirited and interesting theological discussion, along with helping me clean out my fridge, I might just call it a day now and get to some smiling and relaxing, feet up, hands up, beer upon lakes of beer a la St. Brigid’s great lake of beer for the King of kings beersteins up, up and away.
“I believe Jesus Christ, who is God Himself, founded one Church, the Catholic Church. Simply put, the universal Christian Church outside of which, in normal circum-stances, there is no salvation because within her are all our means to salvation placed there, once more, by God. I believe if a man is a good man, but doesn’t know Christ, and can’t be faulted for this, he can be saved. But God alone knows how this works. I believe in the reality of Heaven and Hell, but hope all people, somehow, find God’s mercy and go to the former. Hence my great hope in purgatory, especially as Pope Benedict articulated it in Spe Salvi—
“What do you mean?”
“It’s too much to get into now, but basically who is so bad, so hateful of God and man, who completely refuses God’s mercy and wants to, like Lewis said, lock the door from within? On the other hand, who is so good, so pure and detached from the world, so completely in love with God, loving God with all their heart mind body and soul, and their neighbors really as themselves, even better than that, to go straight to heaven?”
“I d
on’t buy some middle place,” Elder Redd says. “You die and that’s it. Your fate is sealed.”
“Yes you do,” I protest. “The whole Spirit World thing, Spirit Prison-
“It’s not exactly the same thing as Catholic purgatory.”
“Well, whatever you do believe, purgatory isn’t a middle place. You’re saved. Everyone in purgatory is guaran-teed heaven, it’s a waiting room, a place of purification above all, not some middle ground of uncertainty.”
“I don’t buy it.”
“Getting back to my final summary of my beliefs-
“Please do.”
“Yeah, so, yes to the necessity of the Church and sacraments for salvation. Yes in the 99.9 percent of normal circumstances. You do have your Saint Dismases-
“Who?”
“The good thief crucified by Christ’s side. You know, the one guy ridicules Christ, if you’re the Son of God then come down from the Cross, that kind of thing, while the other one, Dismas-
“But the other answered,” Elder Redd says, closing his eyes for a brief moment, “and rebuking him said, ‘Do you not even fear God, since you are under the same sentence of condemnation? And we indeed are suffering justly, for we are receiving what we deserve for our deeds; but this man has done nothing wrong.’ And he was saying, ‘Jesus, remember me when You come in Your kingdom.’ And He said to him, ‘Truly I say to you, today you shall be with Me in Paradise.’
“I really like that Gibson had the crow gorge the bad guy’s eye out,” Elder Sherlock says, “it was my favorite part of the movie.”
“Exactly,” I say, to Elder Redd. “This is the best example, I think, of the 0.01 percent. No purgatory for this guy, he goes straight to the Promised Land. No sacraments, either, nothing but pure faith. And so Protestants of course twist this to say that you don’t need the Church or Sacraments or anything, just faith like this, and you’re saved.”
The Holdout Page 11