Stormin' Mormons

I was grilling some meat for dinner a few weeks ago, and I ran inside for a moment to grab a plate when the front doorbell suddenly rang. I opened the door, and two backpacked, bespectacled Mormons stood there, anxiously waiting to get either an invitation for coffee and biscuits (which they'll decline) or a swift broom to their backs. We exchanged greetings, and I let them know that I will offer neither coffee nor a broom -- but, I told them, it had been some time since we've had a "visit." They both licked their lips in anticipation.

The veteran missionary of the two, all but nineteen years old, immediately got to business. They were here, he said, to talk to me about the "good news" of "another testament of Jesus Christ." I told them that's all right with me -- but if they want to keep my attention, they'll need to follow me out back because I had meat on the grill.

So they followed me out back, mindful not to walk on my lawn (thank goodness); and, as I tended to the grill, they asked me about my faith, and I told them that I am a faithful Roman Catholic. They both nodded their heads -- and, I'm sure, recalled their training on how to talk to Papists. I didn't give them any time to react: I asked them if they believed the Catholic Church slipped into apostasy around the time of the Edict of Milan. They said yes.

I informed them that their belief contradicts the account in the Gospel of Matthew when Christ establishes His Church. Christ told St. Peter that the gates of Hell will not prevail against His Church; thus, I told the Mormons as I turned the chicken, I could not believe Joseph Smith's claims. And as the flames of the grill flickered into the sky, I couldn't help but remark how ironic it is that we're having this conversation of doom in front of fire...

The nodded their heads again, and realized this show is over. But they handed me one of their tracts anyway, told me to keep on praying, and bid me farewell.

But, as usual when I encounter interesting people, I kept on thinking about the life they live. I thought the older one -- the veteran -- would have made a good Catholic priest. He had that profound clarity that all good priests have. The younger one -- the rookie -- was too wet-behind-the-ears for me to make an adequate judgment; furthermore, I think he was far too concerned about remembering all of his missionary training for door-to-door combat than actually worrying about whether I read the Book of Mormon.

After dinner, I flipped open the pamphlet they left behind, entitled "How to Keep Your Family Together Forever." Supposedly, the LDS church brings in scores of converts as a result of their "family first" propaganda. Enticing, to be sure -- especially since our society believes that normal family life is a horror show. Yet, as I was reading the tract, I was reminded of anti-Mormon sentiment that claimed that, while on the surface looking squeaky clean, Mormons had lots of garmie-garbed skeletons in their closets. These critics -- who are mainly evangelical Protestants -- argue that the suicide rate in Utah is higher than average, which supposedly indicates that Mormonism is psychologically unhealthy.

In 2002 (the most recent date available), Utah tied with Oregon for #11 nationally in suicides per 100,000 people. Of the Mountain States, which typically -- for reasons unknown -- have the highest suicide rates in the nation, Utah had the lowest rate. Furthermore, is it even reasonable to equate the entire state of Utah with Mormonism?

Don't worry: before the Mormons left, I asked them if they've ever seen Napoleon Dynamite -- the greatest Mormon flick of all time.