05 A Mormon in the Cheap Seats: On Testimonies

I like fast and testimony meetings. I like them even though I sometimes feel like I’ve wandered into a UFO convention by mistake.   I like them despite the clichés, the predictable scripts, and the annoying claims of religious certainty.

I like them because it’s an unfiltered look at our Mormon faith in its natural habitat-that is, in the minds and lives of the people living it.   After all the manuals have been written, the conference talks published, and official pronouncements read from the pulpit-this is what’s left.   It’s our own private Mormon reality show.

We should bring a reverence and a degree of gratitude for the privilege of being witness to it.   There aren’t that many forums where adults share their most intimate religious thoughts and feelings.   At times the honesty can be unnerving.

Testimonies are like magic tricks.   Instead of the pledge, the turn and the prestige, testimonies have four parts: context, experience, explanation, and conclusion.   Understanding how testimonies are put together makes fast and testimony meetings more interesting, if not more worthwhile.

For example, when I was thirteen or fourteen, a woman stood up and recounted, while sobbing convulsively, how Satan had personally nudged her car off the interstate the day   before to prevent her from attending the temple.   For her, the incident was confirmation that Satan didn’t want her to attend the temple, and therefore the church was true.

This testimony has all the right components: 1) trip to the temple (context), 2) car accident (experience), 3) it was Beelzebub’s handiwork (explanation), 4) the church is true (conclusion).   It’s as easy as 1-2-3-4.   In this case, however, most of us in the cheap seats probably got off the bus somewhere between the second and third stops (particularly if we know that the accident occurred in the middle of a torrential downpour and that the interstate was probably covered in an inch of water).   For us, hydroplaning probably seems like a better explanation.

But we were on the bus for half the trip-and there is value in that.   In general, the higher up in the cheap seats you are, the more hesitant you are to accept, at face value, the explanations and conclusions of others offered in steps 3 and 4.

Here’s another example. A gentleman makes his way to the pulpit.   He pauses for effect, and then, in a somber tone, carefully works his way through all five fingers of the testimony glove.   Midway through, he adopts the “pulpit lean” to give his remarks more weight.   [Note: For the uninitiated, the pulpit lean involves standing behind the pulpit and rotating your torso enough to bring one hip into light contact with the back of the pulpit, then resting your elbow  on the surface of the pulpit  on the same side. This stance may require some practice in front of a mirror in the privacy of your own home to perfect.]  

In this case, there isn’t any context.   No specific experiences are related.   It’s just a floating list of conclusions presented as spiritual certainties.   It’s ironic that the most expansive claims of spiritual knowledge are  often the emptiest.

These kinds of testimonies remind me of Boyd K. Packer’s suggestion that church members bear public  testimony, as a kind of experiment,  of the things they hope are true, but privately have doubts about.   It’s one example of church members being encouraged to be less than truthful as an act of faith.

One more example.   An older woman stood up a few months ago and described how she had held the hand of her husband as he had passed away.   They had been married for more than forty years. “Prayer,” she said, “had made it bearable.”   For her, prayer had taken the vertigo out of the overwhelming loss and tempered the enveloping loneliness.   Her testimony was a gift of distilled life experience presented simply and matter-of-factly.   For me, it took the air out of the room.

In this case, the context is clear (the passing of her husband), and so is the experience (the solace of prayer), but she sat down before getting to steps 3 or 4.   For those of us in the cheap seats, we prefer it that way.

The first  testimony–the one about being prevented from attending the temple by Satan–is an opportunity to recognize that not everyone makes sense of the world in the same way you do.   And that’s not a bad thing.

The  second example–Mr.  Testimony Glove–  is  why I suggest always having some reading material on hand.   I recommend The New Yorker, or if you enjoy short stories, either The Paris Review or American Short Fiction.

The  last example is why I still go to church.