Posted by:
steve benson
(
)
Date: September 29, 2010 10:21PM
Got this cut-out, conveyor belt, blank-stare auto-response email today from a wind-up Mormon believer (edited as the devout believer does, and may continue to respond back):
"Dear Brother Benson,
"As sad as it has made me from reading your posting regarding President Benson, I'm wondering if you remain a member of the church. For those of us who are converts to the church and admire those men who served as apostles, besides being prophets of the church, and to know that their family members could possible be writing something that could have some sort of negative affect on their family or action that they took seems to show irreverence to our Lord, Jesus Christ, since one of the ten commandments tells us to Honor our Fathers and our Mothers. the fact that those members of the twelve do honor our Heavenly Father by serving diligently in their callings as apostles or prophets is something that if I were you, I would be happy about.
"Perhaps one might forget that it is possible that former family members of those apostles or prophets in the early days might have not been able to get inside the tabernacle to hear their husband's or parents' speeches, and that is maybe why children were issued passes.
"No, it might have not been right for you or other children to have that chance to have such a pass, but maybe your family should have had all of you inside the tabernacle very early so that you would not have the guilty feeling about which you have written.
"I am glad that you were able to hold President Benson's hand when you were all together during the latter session of the conference. I admired him so much, and that admiration stemmed from the time I first saw him on television when President Eisenhower was sworn in as president.
"As a young girl who was not yet a Mormon, I was curious about all those people who were called to help the President of our country who happened to have his swearing in be the first to be shown on television.
"That was quite something for me to see, since my family did not own a television and got only to see it on the next door neighbor's set, and at that it seemed we were lucky to be able to do that since school had been let out for the day just so everyone could see it.
"Reading negative things about conference does not make me happy, nor do I think that our Lord, Jesus Christ, nor our Heavenly Father would be happy to see something posted as that.
"I sincerely hope that you will be able to enjoy seeing this October's conference and enjoy it. The fact that there are many more members in our church today than was during President Benson's time is something that makes me happy.
"The fat [sic] that we have so many more temples makes me happy.
"The fact that there is more information for those of us who are trying to find our ancestors so that we can take their names to the temples makes me happy.
"I wish your family well, and do smile, dear Brother Benson.
"Sincerely,
"Sister [name deleted]"
_____
My reply to this Mormon "sister's" inquiry about whether I was still a member of the LDS Church was a follows:
"Nope. Left voluntarily in 1993. Thanks for asking.
"I will not be watching Conference.
"I am not into cults."
The Mormon "sister" answered back:
"Thank you for your reply."
I responded:
"Dear [name deleted]:
"You have private doubts about your faith, otherwise you wouldn't be so intently attempting to drive them away by invoking your memorized testimony.
"Robotic recitation in response to those inner demons of yours will not help you.
"Using your noggin will.
"Good luck."
_____
Below is a narrative of mine about which the dear auto-piloted Mormon "sister" was blindly complaining:
--Back way Passages, Teleprompters, Food Fests and Church Security: "Insider" Memories of General Conference--
--Introduction
As we all bask in the baloney (or other appropriate word inserted here) of General Conference, I'd like to share a few recollections on having experienced the charade "from the inside," so to speak (with apologies to those who have heard these before).
--Teleprompted by the Spirit
At General Conference time, members of ETB's family (along with the relations of other GAs) were provided special, nontransferable passes--identified as such--for admission into the sessions. They were issued to us through ETB's office manager and used to access the Tabernacle at a designated portal. We'd cut in line, flash the ticket, and be escorted to our seats. It wasn't fair or right, but neither concept operates in Mormonism.
One of the more interesting vantage points for viewing Conference was sitting high up in the dome, behind the Tabernacle Choir, next to the white plastered walls and massive organ pipes. To get there, the ushers would lead us through a low-ceiling wood-paneled carpeted area behind the dais, to a back passageway and up a narrow stairwell to the crow's nest. From there, I could look down over the bald spots of the fellows in the men's section, directly on to the pulpit.
While it provided a unique view, it was also as hot as hell. There were big, colored lights up where we sat, used for shining on the smooth, blank walls behind us for special effect. Sitting there in our Sunday best, we did a slow cook--but it wasn't due to any burning in the bosom. During the last few times I sat up there, I would read anti-Mormon literature that I had been handed at the gates of Temple Square a few minutes earlier, since it was often more interesting than the GA sermons.
From high atop the Choir lair, I could see the GAs reading from their teleprompted scripts. The texts would scroll across a screen embedded in the top of the pulpit and then reflect up on panes of glass strategically positioned in front of the speakers.
Not only were the sermons teleprompted, I witnessed the Lord's anointed getting cues on their prepared prayers by artificial means. Everything was tightly timed, with the GAs supposed heartfelt petitions to heaven, as well as their ostensibly Holy Ghost-inspired sermons, precisely orchestrated and slotted into the overall script, so that the camera operators could, on cue, cut to commercial breaks, or to warm and fuzzy Red Square (er, Temple Square) vignettes, or to the chime of the Nauvoo Bell.
--We Thank Thee, Oh, God, We're Related to the Prophet--and Can be Seen at General Conference in These Latter Days
When Benson family members weren't perched up behind the Tabernacle Choir, we could sit in specially roped-off benches, front and center, on the main floor of the Tabernacle, along with the other family and friends of the "we're-oh-so-special" GA crowd.
We became increasingly uncomfortable with what we considered to be an arrogant arrangement and so decided that we would remain behind and simply watch Conference on TV at the Salt Lake home of my parents.
My mother became quite upset when we told her of our decision. She said that ETB wanted his family to be with him--in the Tabernacle--during Conference so that he could look down from the dais and see us all there on those hard, fake wood-stained benches as a sign of our love and support.
I told my mother that if this was what my grandfather wanted, then we would sit there in the Tabernacle until ETB got up and left. That meant that because he was now pretty old and frail, his assistants would often escort him out of the Conference session at the hour break--during the rest song, when everyone would stand up, stretch and sing a hymn before dropping back on their faithful posteriors for the second half of indoctrination.
So that's what we did. ETB would be escorted out during the break, waving weakly, and we would likewise exit (without waving, by the way). We would meet up with him in the back area, out of sight behind the dais, where we would join him and his handlers in escorting him through an underground tunnel over to his Eagle Gate condo that was across the street from Temple Square.
Or, if his assistants got ETB out ahead of us, we would simply make our own way out of the Tabernacle and go over to his apartment. By then, ETB's staff had wheel chaired him into his small, private study, where they would place him in a soft, leather reclining chair. They would then either turn on the TV for the second half of Conference or merely play soft music for him to listen to.
I, and other members of the family, would join ETB here for the duration of the Conference session. I would sit by his side, holding his hand and occasionally speaking to him softly. He would smile, squeeze my hand and sometimes say a word or two. But most of the time, he would not say or do much of anything, but just sit there.
--Inside the Tabernacle, Trying to Talk to Church Security
When we did sit in the Tabernacle's seating area set aside for GA family members and Church-designated dignitaries (like Senator Orrin Hatch), I would often spot a friend of mine, with whom I had grown up and played as a boy in Salt Lake City.
His name was Doyle. Doyle (now known as "Duff") had morphed into a buff, jut-jawed dude with a microphone screwed into his ear. Doyle, you see, had landed a job working the Church security Conference detail.
I would sit there on the benches and observe him standing silently down in front of the plush seats for the GAs, intently scanning the audience. Prior to the kick-off of the Conference sessions, as we made our way to our seats, I would say hi to Doyle. He would respond with a tight-lipped smile, nod briefly and not say much more.
--GA Gluttony
It used to be a tradition among the "perkified" that between breaks of the Conference morning and afternoon sessions, GAs and their families were treated to a sumptuous lunch, high atop the Church Office building.
The GAs relations (as well as friends and dates brought along by, say, their grandchildren) would gather at large tables, where they would be served heaping plates full of hot food, brought to them by young, crisply dressed girls. It was a place to eat, to be seen and to impress.
Meanwhile, during this GA gorge fest, we could look out the windows of this Great and Spacious Building, down at the lawn directly outside the Tabernacle, where the "great unwashed"--those LDS "little people"--were clustered on blankets brought from home, eating cheap box lunches which they had bought or food they had packed themselves--waiting and hoping to get into the afternoon session.
With our bellies full and burping pleasantly, Benson family members would eventually make their way down to the Tabernacle where we would again flash our passes, cut into line at the last minute ahead of people who had been waiting for hours, and make our way into "our" special seating.
One year, after returning home to Arizona from Conference, a member of our ward mentioned that she had seen us at Temple Square as we maneuvered our way into the Tabernacle, where she and her family had long been waiting, trying to get in by standing in line. It was an uncomfortable encounter --and we knew the arrangement was not right.
We finally had enough of this kind of undeserved treatment, so decided in the future to wait in line with everyone else. If we couldn't make it in to the Tabernacle because seating ran out, we would go over to the Assembly Hall and listen to Conference being piped in from across the way.
--Conclusion
Some time later (by that time having jettisoned the Mormon faith), I was glancing at the TV as General Conference was broadcasting its prophets, seers and teleprompted revelators imparting their words of wisdom to those who were managing to sit through it all. It reminded me of my former days as a Mormon and I knew what had to be done:
I went and got a flat tire on my truck fixed.
Edited 5 time(s). Last edit at 09/30/2010 12:06AM by steve benson.