March 30, 2024
Angel Beats
In the first scene, Yuzuru Otonashi wakes up in the afterlife and promptly gets killed again. He doesn't die because he's already dead. Which is a good thing, because he's fallen in with a gang of like-minded teenagers who have decided they do not want to "go gentle into that good night," and have armed themselves accordingly.
That means fighting Angel, who's gotten very good at killing them in turn (getting killed here is like a painful time-out in the penalty box). Angel's ungentle job it is to see that they do go gentle into that good night. And that means being good students instead of a bunch of delinquents.
You see, Angel is the student council president. Purgatory is a Japanese high school. And Angel has appointed herself Charon, the ferryman.
Refreshingly, these rebels really are a bunch of delinquents, and despite all the scheming by Yuri, their bad girl leader, they're not good at being bad. Otonashi admits he would have joined whatever group approached him first. All they know is the current status quo, so that is what they defend—to their repeated deaths.
Though following Jun Maeda's reliable formula, this is executed with a good deal of dark humor that at times is quite funny.
Helped along by the fact that Angel isn't a mindless antagonist, and this hapless gang—who admit they don't really know what they're rebelling against (to quote Marlon Brando: "Whaddya got?")—aren't necessarily the protagonists. Because the only true enemy is the self.
Yeah, I know, that's about as trite as truisms get, but stick with it. It pays off.
There's an element of The Matrix here. The red pill students know they're dead but alive in an unreal world, while the blue pill students remain completely oblivious. Except here Maeda fills in the gaps that The Matrix misses, by giving all parties compelling, even moral, reasons for their opposing choices.
Though in substance and message, Angel Beats! reminds me more of Haibane Renmei, Yoshitoshi ABe's subtle and sublime meditation on grace and redemption. ABe's protagonist is Rakka, who is reborn into an afterlife that resembles a semi-rural village in mid-20th century Eastern Europe.
In the pastoral world of Haibane Renmei, there is no god to rail against, no highway to heaven, no sign posts pointing the way. Their only job is to live out their afterlives in the community while "working out their salvation with fear and trembling" (Philippians 2:12).
While Haibane Renmei is quiet and meditative, Angel Beats! is loud and obvious. It's the garage band version, with the volume turned up to eleven. Literally, as one of the gang's tools of subversion is a student rock band that stages illegal concerts to distract Angel's minions during their ammo resupply raids.
Angel Beats! also has a distinctly Buddhist slant. ABe created a purposely Catholic version of purgatory for Haibane Renmei. In Angel Beats! Christian salvation isn't in the cards. Whether you move onto the next world is purely a product of self-realization or satori, and only you can hold yourself back.
On this score, Joseph Smith would agree.
For our words will condemn us, yea, all our works will condemn us; we shall not be found spotless; and our thoughts will also condemn us; and in this awful state we shall not dare to look up to our God; and we would fain be glad if we could command the rocks and the mountains to fall upon us to hide us from his presence (Alma 12:14).
Everybody in this purgatory is terrified of resurrecting the memories of who they were before they died, and instead are obsessed with what could have been versus what actually was. As Socrates said, "The unexamined life is not worth living." So the dead stay dead until they face that examination directly.
Still, it wouldn't hurt if someone could figure out these eschatalogical truths first and then point the way to everybody else. Eventually joining forces, that is what Angel and Otonashi end up striving to do, until the only job left to them is to save themselves.
Related posts
The catechism of Angel Beats!
Make 'em laugh, make 'em cry
Set Apart
Angel Beats! (Crunchyroll)
Labels: anime, anime reviews, buddhism, fantasy, haibane, jun maeda, lds, religion, shinto, your name
June 15, 2017
Church of the extrovert
"Different" is not always "good." Too much "difference" in close proximity causes wars. Especially when it comes to theology, I don't see the point in "kicking against the pricks" if you can't align yourself theologically with a religion. Go find another cause or church.
(In other words, my "activism" ends exactly at the point I'd have to get out of my armchair to do anything about it.)
On the other hand, a religion that promotes itself as having a "catholic" outreach must realize that differences in human nature exist. Unfortunately, it's easier to pursue utopian universality by pretending that everybody is (or should be) a clone of whoever's in charge.
As a case in point, an article about psychological depression in the Winter 2017 BYU Magazine uses missionary service to illustrate several aspects of the problem and then completely misses the point. Because one size fits all.
Consider the sidebar featuring the anecdote in which Lindsay, "a self-
The "advice" that follows never acknowledges that perhaps being "bold and assertive and confident" isn't for everybody and certainly not for every missionary. Instead, one is supposed to "increase resilience" and develop "coping skills." In other words, conform.
The coping strategies that worked for her--"spending time alone or reading a book"--are not allowed. Perversely enough, the only acceptable alternative this Hobson's choice offered her was to be labeled mentally ill.
To be sure, people have all kinds of issues, and being "with a companion 24/7 that [you] didn't choose, learning a foreign language, and adapting to a different culture" are some of the demanding pressures that inevitably come with being a Mormon missionary.
But, frankly, those pressures--which are finite in duration and not that much more demanding than the rest of post-mission real life--are peanuts compared to the expectations of unavoidable social engagement. And yet these expectations are simply never questioned.
Buddhism and Catholicism long ago figured out that there are convert-the-world types and there are vow-of-silence types. If you're one of the latter and find yourself in a church that's pedal-to-the-metal on the former, you're going to have problems, period.
The church of the extrovert is fine for those who are extroverts, want to become extroverts, or are willing to put up with being around extroverts. It's a Darwinistic gauntlet that systematically filters out the "unfit" personality types. That's fine too. It's a free world.
But if being the life of the party is the necessary condition the viability of the organization depends on, a church that prioritizes sociability and good PR may not be long for this earth. As Rod Dreher argues in The Benedict Option,
In his conversation with Albert Mohler about the book, he further explains:
(The "Benedict" Dreher refers to is not Pope Benedict XVI but the sixth century Benedict of Nursia. He founded the Order of Saint Benedict that defined the structure and objectives of monastic life and helped preserve Western Civilization through the Dark Ages.)
On the other hand, the Mormon church recently began dismantling its tight relationship with the BSA organization, and has hinted that it may divorce it entirely. So rejecting the popular secular option is always a possibility (though it remains increasingly unlikely).
(In other words, my "activism" ends exactly at the point I'd have to get out of my armchair to do anything about it.)
On the other hand, a religion that promotes itself as having a "catholic" outreach must realize that differences in human nature exist. Unfortunately, it's easier to pursue utopian universality by pretending that everybody is (or should be) a clone of whoever's in charge.
As a case in point, an article about psychological depression in the Winter 2017 BYU Magazine uses missionary service to illustrate several aspects of the problem and then completely misses the point. Because one size fits all.
Consider the sidebar featuring the anecdote in which Lindsay, "a self-
The "advice" that follows never acknowledges that perhaps being "bold and assertive and confident" isn't for everybody and certainly not for every missionary. Instead, one is supposed to "increase resilience" and develop "coping skills." In other words, conform.
The coping strategies that worked for her--"spending time alone or reading a book"--are not allowed. Perversely enough, the only acceptable alternative this Hobson's choice offered her was to be labeled mentally ill.
To be sure, people have all kinds of issues, and being "with a companion 24/7 that [you] didn't choose, learning a foreign language, and adapting to a different culture" are some of the demanding pressures that inevitably come with being a Mormon missionary.
But, frankly, those pressures--which are finite in duration and not that much more demanding than the rest of post-mission real life--are peanuts compared to the expectations of unavoidable social engagement. And yet these expectations are simply never questioned.
Buddhism and Catholicism long ago figured out that there are convert-the-world types and there are vow-of-silence types. If you're one of the latter and find yourself in a church that's pedal-to-the-metal on the former, you're going to have problems, period.
The church of the extrovert is fine for those who are extroverts, want to become extroverts, or are willing to put up with being around extroverts. It's a Darwinistic gauntlet that systematically filters out the "unfit" personality types. That's fine too. It's a free world.
But if being the life of the party is the necessary condition the viability of the organization depends on, a church that prioritizes sociability and good PR may not be long for this earth. As Rod Dreher argues in The Benedict Option,
If believers don’t come out of Babylon and be separate, sometimes metaphorically, sometimes literally, their faith will not survive for another generation or two in this culture of death.
In his conversation with Albert Mohler about the book, he further explains:
My life is shaped around the chanting of Psalms and on all kinds of sensual ways that embody the faith. Of course you can have smells and bells and go straight to hell; that doesn't change you and lead to greater conversion. But for me as an Orthodox Christian and me as a Catholic, the faith had more traction and it drew me in closer and closer. I don't know if evangelicals can do that, because as I look at evangelicalism I see people who are zealous for the Lord, no doubt about it, but also susceptible to every trend that comes along.
(The "Benedict" Dreher refers to is not Pope Benedict XVI but the sixth century Benedict of Nursia. He founded the Order of Saint Benedict that defined the structure and objectives of monastic life and helped preserve Western Civilization through the Dark Ages.)
On the other hand, the Mormon church recently began dismantling its tight relationship with the BSA organization, and has hinted that it may divorce it entirely. So rejecting the popular secular option is always a possibility (though it remains increasingly unlikely).
Related posts
Up with introverts
The weirdest two years
Understanding Japanese women (and introverts)
Labels: buddhism, history, introversion, lds, religion, social studies
April 13, 2017
The evolution of the missionary program
Going back half a century or so, here's how how I interpret the convoluted and often incoherent evolution of the Mormon Church's missionary program.
Stage I. Mine was one of last cohorts of the legacy system. This was the "Every Young Man Should Serve a Mission" era. (As for the young women, well, if you still hadn't gotten hitched by twenty-one, then sure. But why haven't you gotten hitched?)
In the late 1970s, the church's PR efforts hit Madison Avenue and sociologists started paying serious attention to the church's growth numbers. These studies famously culminated in Rodney Stark's 1984 calculation of a 64 million to 267 million growth in membership over the next century.
Ah, here was "independent" confirmation of the inevitable Mormon hegemony, cementing Mormonism's "fastest growing religion" status (an error that continues to this day). Buoyed by these dubious statistical projections, church leaders convinced themselves they were going to convert the world.
Except the numbers Stark and others were using in their models came from the church itself. The public membership numbers the church publishes each year don't count butts in pews. They're derived from open-ended accounting methods based the accumulation of unexpired membership records.
In other words, if you got baptized and never attend church again, you would still contribute to the membership totals until you reached a hypothetical life expectancy and were deemed statistically dead.
In fact, the church does count how many butts are in the pews every Sunday. Otherwise it'd end up building chapels that sat empty and unused. But like Fox Mulder, they want to believe. And like the Cigarette Smoking Man, they keep the numbers that matter close to the vest.
In any case, wishful thinking eventually ran into the brick wall of reality. To start with, consider the workforce. The more they stressed the hard sell, the more missionaries figured out how to game the system.
Stage II. As these get-big-quick schemes began imploding in missions like Tokyo South, the church decided that not enough young men were serving missions. And it cost too much. The answer was to match mission lengths for men and women at eighteen months.
Mission financing was taken over by the church and quasi-socialized (and then tweaked to preserve the tax incentives) so everybody faced the same up-front costs.
Sounds good in theory. Except a whole lot of twenty-year-olds were more than happy to take a six-month discount on "the two best years." The church was suddenly faced with the challenge of keeping the spiritual sales force intact during its most productive period (the last six months).
That idea was deep-sixed. The cost-sharing measures were preserved.
Stage III. Instead of greasing the skids, maybe it was time to borrow from those Marines Corps ads: "The few, the proud." Raise standards. Toughen the requirements. Emphasize quality over quantity. Missionaries were an elite group, not the hoi polloi.
But once again, too many kids decided that this was good excuse to give the whole ordeal a pass. Especially when dealing with theological cannon fodder, there's strength in numbers. Quantity matters more than quality (because you're never going to have that much quality).
Stage IV. In the meantime, the cruel world was intruding all over the place. Years of cultural diplomacy with China never paid off, delivering a blow to the multi-level marketing strategy I was taught in the MTC. (Seriously, with a few script changes, it could have been turned into any sales pitch.)
The convert-the-world true believers no longer believed quite so much, accepting the stark reality that, in real terms, church membership growth tracks closely to the natural rate. By "natural" I mean the birds and the bees. Mormon boy meets Mormon girl and a bunch of Mormon kids result.
Behind the scenes, the number crunchers at church headquarters were doing (more accurate) butts-in-pews analyses that pointed to a strong correlation between "served a mission" and "shows up to church on Sunday."
That meant maximizing the number of Mormon kids going on missions, which had the best odds of turning them into Mormon adults. It didn't matter if they converted anybody on their mission as long as they converted themselves. Think of it as an institutionalized sunk cost fallacy in action.
It was time to grease the skids again, but with a different set of variables. Knock one year off the start date for men, two years for women. Guys wouldn't have to red-shirt their freshman year and women wouldn't be taking themselves out of the college (BYU) dating market.
Plus, an eighteen-year-old is that much more susceptible to peer group pressure. What are you gonna do straight out of high school? Answer: go on a mission. What joining the military used to be.
This time it looks like they got it right. So far, the new program has been hugely successful. Pay no attention to the slumping conversion rates. Missionaries now spend less time proselytizing and more time trying to be useful. It's turned into the Mormon Peace Corps.
Frankly, that's what the missionary program should have been all along.
Stage I. Mine was one of last cohorts of the legacy system. This was the "Every Young Man Should Serve a Mission" era. (As for the young women, well, if you still hadn't gotten hitched by twenty-one, then sure. But why haven't you gotten hitched?)
In the late 1970s, the church's PR efforts hit Madison Avenue and sociologists started paying serious attention to the church's growth numbers. These studies famously culminated in Rodney Stark's 1984 calculation of a 64 million to 267 million growth in membership over the next century.
Ah, here was "independent" confirmation of the inevitable Mormon hegemony, cementing Mormonism's "fastest growing religion" status (an error that continues to this day). Buoyed by these dubious statistical projections, church leaders convinced themselves they were going to convert the world.
Except the numbers Stark and others were using in their models came from the church itself. The public membership numbers the church publishes each year don't count butts in pews. They're derived from open-ended accounting methods based the accumulation of unexpired membership records.
 |
| The truth is way out there. |
In fact, the church does count how many butts are in the pews every Sunday. Otherwise it'd end up building chapels that sat empty and unused. But like Fox Mulder, they want to believe. And like the Cigarette Smoking Man, they keep the numbers that matter close to the vest.
In any case, wishful thinking eventually ran into the brick wall of reality. To start with, consider the workforce. The more they stressed the hard sell, the more missionaries figured out how to game the system.
Stage II. As these get-big-quick schemes began imploding in missions like Tokyo South, the church decided that not enough young men were serving missions. And it cost too much. The answer was to match mission lengths for men and women at eighteen months.
Mission financing was taken over by the church and quasi-socialized (and then tweaked to preserve the tax incentives) so everybody faced the same up-front costs.
Sounds good in theory. Except a whole lot of twenty-year-olds were more than happy to take a six-month discount on "the two best years." The church was suddenly faced with the challenge of keeping the spiritual sales force intact during its most productive period (the last six months).
That idea was deep-sixed. The cost-sharing measures were preserved.
Stage III. Instead of greasing the skids, maybe it was time to borrow from those Marines Corps ads: "The few, the proud." Raise standards. Toughen the requirements. Emphasize quality over quantity. Missionaries were an elite group, not the hoi polloi.
But once again, too many kids decided that this was good excuse to give the whole ordeal a pass. Especially when dealing with theological cannon fodder, there's strength in numbers. Quantity matters more than quality (because you're never going to have that much quality).
Stage IV. In the meantime, the cruel world was intruding all over the place. Years of cultural diplomacy with China never paid off, delivering a blow to the multi-level marketing strategy I was taught in the MTC. (Seriously, with a few script changes, it could have been turned into any sales pitch.)
The convert-the-world true believers no longer believed quite so much, accepting the stark reality that, in real terms, church membership growth tracks closely to the natural rate. By "natural" I mean the birds and the bees. Mormon boy meets Mormon girl and a bunch of Mormon kids result.
Behind the scenes, the number crunchers at church headquarters were doing (more accurate) butts-in-pews analyses that pointed to a strong correlation between "served a mission" and "shows up to church on Sunday."
That meant maximizing the number of Mormon kids going on missions, which had the best odds of turning them into Mormon adults. It didn't matter if they converted anybody on their mission as long as they converted themselves. Think of it as an institutionalized sunk cost fallacy in action.
It was time to grease the skids again, but with a different set of variables. Knock one year off the start date for men, two years for women. Guys wouldn't have to red-shirt their freshman year and women wouldn't be taking themselves out of the college (BYU) dating market.
Plus, an eighteen-year-old is that much more susceptible to peer group pressure. What are you gonna do straight out of high school? Answer: go on a mission. What joining the military used to be.
This time it looks like they got it right. So far, the new program has been hugely successful. Pay no attention to the slumping conversion rates. Missionaries now spend less time proselytizing and more time trying to be useful. It's turned into the Mormon Peace Corps.
Frankly, that's what the missionary program should have been all along.
Related posts
How it began
The truth is worse
Tokyo South is alive
The weirdest two years
The problem with projections
Labels: books, ebooks, lds, peaks island press, publishing, religion, tokyo south
December 03, 2015
The Mormon "koseki" problem
So I was writing about Angel Beats! and that got me musing about infant baptism, about the same time that the Mormon church announced that the children of gay parents would not be eligible for baptism until they were legal adults.
As my brother quipped, "And yet the child of two heterosexual Satan-worshipping prostitutes would be?"
The first thing that occurred to me was that the Mormon church had reinvented Original Sin. Hey, kids, welcome to Limbo! "Limbo" isn't official Catholic doctrine. Apparently this is.
But the bigger question is why the church even bothered. Who thought this was a problem that needed solving? What, there were maybe five people in the entire world that such a policy would have otherwise applied to (before turning it into a cause célèbre)?
It struck me as the kind of rule-making engineered by a mid-level bureaucrat who panicked one day when a hypothetical raised by a local bishop clawed its way up the chain of command and he realized that they didn't have a form to handle it.
You see, the church has a koseki problem. Cultural and religious reasons aside, one reason gay marriage has made halting progress in Japan is for the same record-keeping reason.
The koseki tohon (family register) is the official census record in Japan, and the legal equivalent of a person's birth certificate. All major life events--birth, adoption, marriage, death--are recorded in the koseki. If it's not in the koseki, it didn't legally occur.
The Japan Times explains:
The koseki is a patrilineal document as well as a genealogical record. Before privacy laws were enacted, private investigators, employers, and marriage brokers could peruse any person's koseki for evidence of disreputable fruit hanging in the family tree.
With its roots in medieval Japan and its first major revision back in 1872, with public access to koseki records only being restricted in 2008, the koseki system has adjusted slowly to modern times. Consider, for example, the following:
Adult adoption, on the other hand, remains surprisingly common.
As many as 10,000 mukoseki ("no koseki") Japanese have fallen through these cracks, children of Japanese citizens but non-persons in the country of their birth.
A few progressive wards in Tokyo have carved out exceptions, but nothing approaching a national solution is on the horizon. (Keep in mind that Japan is just getting around to creating a social security numbering system and fax machines remain ubiquitous.)
So what does this have to do with the Mormon church? Unlike most faiths, the Mormon church keeps the equivalent of a koseki for every member (which is both weird and kinda scary). Like the koseki, this database is patrilineal in theology and structure.
And like the koseki, simply changing the values in a database field can't help but make a cultural statement, with a boatload of political implications in tow. Perversely, the kind of statements and implications that the Satan-worshipping prostitute avoids.
Here is where that mukoseki status serves to resolve the church's gay marriage dilemma. No koseki? The kid doesn't exist. Neither do the parents. Not our problem.
Frankly, the church should borrow from the Amish and not baptize anybody until they're eighteen. Oh, and I'd tell the Japan census bureau that the clarity of the Jewish matrilineal system has much to recommend for it.
As my brother quipped, "And yet the child of two heterosexual Satan-worshipping prostitutes would be?"
The first thing that occurred to me was that the Mormon church had reinvented Original Sin. Hey, kids, welcome to Limbo! "Limbo" isn't official Catholic doctrine. Apparently this is.
But the bigger question is why the church even bothered. Who thought this was a problem that needed solving? What, there were maybe five people in the entire world that such a policy would have otherwise applied to (before turning it into a cause célèbre)?
It struck me as the kind of rule-making engineered by a mid-level bureaucrat who panicked one day when a hypothetical raised by a local bishop clawed its way up the chain of command and he realized that they didn't have a form to handle it.
You see, the church has a koseki problem. Cultural and religious reasons aside, one reason gay marriage has made halting progress in Japan is for the same record-keeping reason.
The koseki tohon (family register) is the official census record in Japan, and the legal equivalent of a person's birth certificate. All major life events--birth, adoption, marriage, death--are recorded in the koseki. If it's not in the koseki, it didn't legally occur.
The Japan Times explains:
People without a family registry are ineligible for passports and driver's licenses, as well as such basic but critical services as public health insurance and national pension benefits. In addition, their lack of a legally valid identity leaves them open to a multitude of other potential problems.
The koseki is a patrilineal document as well as a genealogical record. Before privacy laws were enacted, private investigators, employers, and marriage brokers could peruse any person's koseki for evidence of disreputable fruit hanging in the family tree.
With its roots in medieval Japan and its first major revision back in 1872, with public access to koseki records only being restricted in 2008, the koseki system has adjusted slowly to modern times. Consider, for example, the following:
- When a couple marries, only one family name can appear on the koseki. Except in the case of adult adoption, the woman almost always gives up her maiden name.
- The child of a divorced woman who gave birth before legally remarrying will be listed on her previous husband's koseki.
- To gain custody, the child must be "abandoned" by his "legal" father and adopted by his biological father. This is one reason child adoption is rare in Japan.
Adult adoption, on the other hand, remains surprisingly common.
- Even more bizarrely, there are circumstances where the child doesn't end up on either parent's koseki and so legally ceases to exist.
As many as 10,000 mukoseki ("no koseki") Japanese have fallen through these cracks, children of Japanese citizens but non-persons in the country of their birth.
- And, of course, there's no effective way to deal with gay marriage, especially the child of two women (although for an eldest male, adult adoption becomes an interesting alternative).
A few progressive wards in Tokyo have carved out exceptions, but nothing approaching a national solution is on the horizon. (Keep in mind that Japan is just getting around to creating a social security numbering system and fax machines remain ubiquitous.)
So what does this have to do with the Mormon church? Unlike most faiths, the Mormon church keeps the equivalent of a koseki for every member (which is both weird and kinda scary). Like the koseki, this database is patrilineal in theology and structure.
And like the koseki, simply changing the values in a database field can't help but make a cultural statement, with a boatload of political implications in tow. Perversely, the kind of statements and implications that the Satan-worshipping prostitute avoids.
Here is where that mukoseki status serves to resolve the church's gay marriage dilemma. No koseki? The kid doesn't exist. Neither do the parents. Not our problem.
Frankly, the church should borrow from the Amish and not baptize anybody until they're eighteen. Oh, and I'd tell the Japan census bureau that the clarity of the Jewish matrilineal system has much to recommend for it.
Related posts
Angle Beats!
The hidden reason for the policy change
The koseki system in The Twelve Kingdoms
Labels: anime, demographics, japan, lds, politics, religion, technology
March 21, 2013
Tonan no Tsubasa (22)
The vanguard company of 150 Mormon pioneers covered approximately 1000 miles in four months. The wagon train consisted of 73 wagons, one cannon, 93 horses, 52 mules, 66 oxen, 19 cows, 17 dogs and a number of chickens. It carried enough supplies to fully provision the group for one year once it got to Utah.
The Shouzan covers a shorter distance (one way), but there are fewer foraging opportunities (though kijuu will eat dead youma). Shitsu Kiwa has a big wagon and is unaware of how experienced travelers eat (covered in chapter 24). As a result, his group alone would require a considerable amount of livestock.
To paraphrase Napoleon, "The Shouzan marches on its stomach."
The Shouzan covers a shorter distance (one way), but there are fewer foraging opportunities (though kijuu will eat dead youma). Shitsu Kiwa has a big wagon and is unaware of how experienced travelers eat (covered in chapter 24). As a result, his group alone would require a considerable amount of livestock.
To paraphrase Napoleon, "The Shouzan marches on its stomach."
Labels: 12 kingdoms, lds, tonan
March 04, 2013
The zombie mission
Accommodating the surge in missionaries brought about by lowering the age requirement, 18 for men (down from 19) and 19 for women (down from 21), the Mormon church has added 58 missions (mostly by dividing existing ones), bringing the total slate to 405.
Hearing that news, a light went on in my head. No—it couldn't be—but it did make sense—so with baited breath I checked the official list. And wouldn't you know it: Tokyo South is back!
Tokyo South was born in 1978, a few months before I arrived in Japan. After a three-decade long roller-coaster ride, it was shuttered in 2007, merged with Tokyo North to create the original entity from which it had sprung. Now it stalks the earth once again.
Tokyo South is the zombie mission. It won't stay dead!
But while the new rules (especially for women) will push up the total missionary workforce numbers, I have to wonder if these levels can be sustained once the current surge washes through the system.
Back in the day, missionary service was considered a Mormon male rite of passage, like the military draft used to be. And then, as I observe in the introduction to Tokyo South, the church shifted to "the few, the proud" mode.
Now it's gone back to casting a wide net. Well, if big numbers are the goal, the only question is how low the common denominator can go. As Tokyo South shows: pretty dang low. And yet, I've since concluded, this isn't necessarily a bad thing.
Still, for every "spring forward," there's a "fall back." Call it the "Daylight Saving Time effect." I won't be surprised if Tokyo South goes back on the chopping block in a few years. That it was axed in the first place shows how tenuous the church's hold has become in Japan.
Hearing that news, a light went on in my head. No—it couldn't be—but it did make sense—so with baited breath I checked the official list. And wouldn't you know it: Tokyo South is back!
Tokyo South was born in 1978, a few months before I arrived in Japan. After a three-decade long roller-coaster ride, it was shuttered in 2007, merged with Tokyo North to create the original entity from which it had sprung. Now it stalks the earth once again.
Tokyo South is the zombie mission. It won't stay dead!
But while the new rules (especially for women) will push up the total missionary workforce numbers, I have to wonder if these levels can be sustained once the current surge washes through the system.
Back in the day, missionary service was considered a Mormon male rite of passage, like the military draft used to be. And then, as I observe in the introduction to Tokyo South, the church shifted to "the few, the proud" mode.
Now it's gone back to casting a wide net. Well, if big numbers are the goal, the only question is how low the common denominator can go. As Tokyo South shows: pretty dang low. And yet, I've since concluded, this isn't necessarily a bad thing.
From a purely practical standpoint, the mission should not have become the venue of choice for Personal Growth and Rehabilitation. But we are an imperfect species, and if not now, when? More importantly, the church remains in short supply of what universal conscription supplies the nation in times of crisis (an organized religion, by definition, being constantly in a time of crisis): a common cause and experience that reaches simultaneously across generations.
Still, for every "spring forward," there's a "fall back." Call it the "Daylight Saving Time effect." I won't be surprised if Tokyo South goes back on the chopping block in a few years. That it was axed in the first place shows how tenuous the church's hold has become in Japan.
Related posts
How it began
The evolution
The truth is worse
Tokyo South is dead
The weirdest two years
Labels: lds, religion, tokyo south
October 08, 2012
18 going on 19
The first thing that struck me about the church's lowering of missionary eligibility to 18 for men and 19 for woman (from 19 and 21) is that it's an exact reversal of the "quality not quantity" push from a decade ago (to say nothing of the even earlier 18 month scheme).
This move is expected to kick up the quantities big time. Purely in marketing terms, a "flood the zone approach" is probably the most effective, though I have to wonder where more missionaries would make that big of a difference. What zones need to be flooded?
In places like Japan, the missionary presence has collapsed over the past two decades. Back during the Tokyo South heyday, "flooding the zone" raked in big returns until whole thing burst like Japan's real estate bubble, and long-term activity flattened to single digits.
It could well be that the church is finally getting into China and needs to be able to crank up the numbers quick. Though the church has been on the verge of getting into China for the last forty years.
More likely that Romney's coattails are proving long and wide indeed, and the church plans on riding them well past the election. Though the Hawthorne effect suggests that recruitment (on both sides of the equation) will regress to the mean once the novelty wears off.
A pragmatic and publicly-stated explanation, especially for men, is that it's an effort to rationalize the U.S. missionary system with existing exemptions for non-U.S. institutions that don't accommodate a two-year sabbatical in the middle of college or military service.
For the sake of simplicity, why not just rationalize it for women as well? Perhaps that's a tiny attempt to keep missions from turning into massive gôkon (group dating) outings.
Making missions more amenable to matchmaking will do more for long-term church growth than proselyting, though it's bound to produce the inevitable moral fallout (randy missionaries not waiting to start hooking up). An acceptable operational cost, I suppose.
I definitely foresee a big demographic impact on the BYU matrimonial scene. Mormon sociologists should start collecting data now.
Though I wouldn't be surprised if the church did a study and discovered that 18 year old boys were slightly more pliable and less jerkish than 19 year olds. Because (and I speak from personal experience, not excluding myself) being jerks is one thing 19 year olds excel at.
This move is expected to kick up the quantities big time. Purely in marketing terms, a "flood the zone approach" is probably the most effective, though I have to wonder where more missionaries would make that big of a difference. What zones need to be flooded?
In places like Japan, the missionary presence has collapsed over the past two decades. Back during the Tokyo South heyday, "flooding the zone" raked in big returns until whole thing burst like Japan's real estate bubble, and long-term activity flattened to single digits.
It could well be that the church is finally getting into China and needs to be able to crank up the numbers quick. Though the church has been on the verge of getting into China for the last forty years.
More likely that Romney's coattails are proving long and wide indeed, and the church plans on riding them well past the election. Though the Hawthorne effect suggests that recruitment (on both sides of the equation) will regress to the mean once the novelty wears off.
A pragmatic and publicly-stated explanation, especially for men, is that it's an effort to rationalize the U.S. missionary system with existing exemptions for non-U.S. institutions that don't accommodate a two-year sabbatical in the middle of college or military service.
For the sake of simplicity, why not just rationalize it for women as well? Perhaps that's a tiny attempt to keep missions from turning into massive gôkon (group dating) outings.
Making missions more amenable to matchmaking will do more for long-term church growth than proselyting, though it's bound to produce the inevitable moral fallout (randy missionaries not waiting to start hooking up). An acceptable operational cost, I suppose.
I definitely foresee a big demographic impact on the BYU matrimonial scene. Mormon sociologists should start collecting data now.
Though I wouldn't be surprised if the church did a study and discovered that 18 year old boys were slightly more pliable and less jerkish than 19 year olds. Because (and I speak from personal experience, not excluding myself) being jerks is one thing 19 year olds excel at.
Labels: lds, tokyo south
September 20, 2012
Winging it
In a comment on the previous post, I describe Romney-the-politician as a seasoned stake president (literally!) who's spent (a few too many) years behind the pulpit.
Here's why. Because of the lay structure of local congregations, Mormon leaders get adept at winging it behind the pulpit, padding out worship services, filling in for missing speakers on the spur of the moment. Even I, a clinical introvert, harbor no dread of public speaking thanks to my years in church.
Unfortunately, "winging it" is antithetical to predictability and reliability, which is why, to the dismay of historians (and anti-Mormons) who feast on the often wacky sermons of yore, modern Mormon General Conference talks are heavily vetted and thoroughly teleprompted.
Romney has become overconfident winging it, and his off-the-cuff remarks prove it. As Joe says, it's hard to think deeply when speaking extemporaneously, and a common recourse is to fall back on false syllogisms. And as Dan points out, the "47 percent" number is comically imprecise to start with.
As a starving artist, I belong to the 47 percent. I haven't paid income taxes in years. But believe me, the check I cut to the IRS to cover all my other tax obligations ain't pocket change. Still, get rid of that silly number and Romney makes a valid point: "middle class" is a state of mind.
People (and corporations) who ought not to do become dependent upon government, do believe that they are victims, do believe that government has a responsibility to care for them, do believe that they are entitled to health care, to food, to housing, "to you name it."
I don't think of myself as either "poor" or "entitled" (though I'm not so principled that I'll turn away the blessings of state paternalism when push comes to shove). I'm a middle class kid undergoing a momentary financial setback (that's gone on for about a decade).
Incidentally, this is why comparing health care systems is problematic, because how much a country like Japan spends on health care depends a great deal on what its citizens expect out of health care, what they feel "entitled" to. The average Japanese feels entitled to a lot less than the average American.
It's much easier to build an affordable social safety net when it doesn't have to hold the entire population, when the average person avoids testing its strength. During its Great Recession, Japan had low unemployment rates, a product of the social stigma and meager unemployment insurance.
For this reason, my sense is, on this issue, Romney ends up being right even when he's wrong. Other that huffing and puffing commentators who live to be offended, average people who hear him say that will think: Well, that's not me, even when it is. That's why Rush Limbaugh wishes Romney said it on purpose.
Alas, he didn't. Romney, to his credit, is a pragmatist and a problem solver. He's not a man with bedrock political principles who, like Reagan, spent years honing the rhetorical skills required to defend and explain them.
He's just winging it.
Here's why. Because of the lay structure of local congregations, Mormon leaders get adept at winging it behind the pulpit, padding out worship services, filling in for missing speakers on the spur of the moment. Even I, a clinical introvert, harbor no dread of public speaking thanks to my years in church.
Unfortunately, "winging it" is antithetical to predictability and reliability, which is why, to the dismay of historians (and anti-Mormons) who feast on the often wacky sermons of yore, modern Mormon General Conference talks are heavily vetted and thoroughly teleprompted.
Romney has become overconfident winging it, and his off-the-cuff remarks prove it. As Joe says, it's hard to think deeply when speaking extemporaneously, and a common recourse is to fall back on false syllogisms. And as Dan points out, the "47 percent" number is comically imprecise to start with.
As a starving artist, I belong to the 47 percent. I haven't paid income taxes in years. But believe me, the check I cut to the IRS to cover all my other tax obligations ain't pocket change. Still, get rid of that silly number and Romney makes a valid point: "middle class" is a state of mind.
People (and corporations) who ought not to do become dependent upon government, do believe that they are victims, do believe that government has a responsibility to care for them, do believe that they are entitled to health care, to food, to housing, "to you name it."
I don't think of myself as either "poor" or "entitled" (though I'm not so principled that I'll turn away the blessings of state paternalism when push comes to shove). I'm a middle class kid undergoing a momentary financial setback (that's gone on for about a decade).
Incidentally, this is why comparing health care systems is problematic, because how much a country like Japan spends on health care depends a great deal on what its citizens expect out of health care, what they feel "entitled" to. The average Japanese feels entitled to a lot less than the average American.
It's much easier to build an affordable social safety net when it doesn't have to hold the entire population, when the average person avoids testing its strength. During its Great Recession, Japan had low unemployment rates, a product of the social stigma and meager unemployment insurance.
For this reason, my sense is, on this issue, Romney ends up being right even when he's wrong. Other that huffing and puffing commentators who live to be offended, average people who hear him say that will think: Well, that's not me, even when it is. That's why Rush Limbaugh wishes Romney said it on purpose.
Alas, he didn't. Romney, to his credit, is a pragmatist and a problem solver. He's not a man with bedrock political principles who, like Reagan, spent years honing the rhetorical skills required to defend and explain them.
He's just winging it.
September 17, 2012
How they say it
Even before Mitt Romney gave his big acceptance speech at the Republican convention, the pundits were dissecting how he spoke as much as what he said. It's good to remember John Althouse Cohen's observation that
But applying Occam's Razor to the question of how, there's a simple explanation for why Romney gives a speech the way he does.
As Orson Scott Card describes here, the Mormon church is the equivalent of Toastmasters International. Local churches are run by a lay clergy, so the average member ends up giving lots of sermons (Mormons call them "talks").
Because the church promotes exclusively from within, this mutually-reinforcing speaking style influences, and is highly influenced by, how high church officials speak.
The gold standard of Mormon sermonizing is the church's semiannual General Conference. There's one coming up in October. It'll be on cable. Or go here and see where Mitt Romney learned how to talk in public.
My sister hears some of Thomas Monson's mannerisms in Romney's speeches. I've been not listening to Monson as long as I've been alive (he's been a big Mormon Pooh-Bah that long), and Romney's not that bad.
I say not listening because the way Monson delivers a talk drives me nuts. I really do believe he's 100 percent sincere, and millions hang on his every word. But there's certainly no accounting for rhetorical taste.
Most ordinary citizens who tried to run for president would probably come off as wooden and unhip. The candidate who can "connect" with most people is actually unlike most people.
But applying Occam's Razor to the question of how, there's a simple explanation for why Romney gives a speech the way he does.
As Orson Scott Card describes here, the Mormon church is the equivalent of Toastmasters International. Local churches are run by a lay clergy, so the average member ends up giving lots of sermons (Mormons call them "talks").
Because the church promotes exclusively from within, this mutually-reinforcing speaking style influences, and is highly influenced by, how high church officials speak.
The gold standard of Mormon sermonizing is the church's semiannual General Conference. There's one coming up in October. It'll be on cable. Or go here and see where Mitt Romney learned how to talk in public.
My sister hears some of Thomas Monson's mannerisms in Romney's speeches. I've been not listening to Monson as long as I've been alive (he's been a big Mormon Pooh-Bah that long), and Romney's not that bad.
I say not listening because the way Monson delivers a talk drives me nuts. I really do believe he's 100 percent sincere, and millions hang on his every word. But there's certainly no accounting for rhetorical taste.
March 17, 2012
Mormonism & American Politics
I watched this forum on C-SPAN the other night. Haglund's memories of Romney as her stake president summed it up for me. Theologically and politically, his one true religion is pragmatism. In a weird way, it's reassuring to know Romney probably doesn't "believe" in any ideology, besides "what works." All in all, it's an interesting and remarkably fair discussion.
March 05, 2012
BOMM business lessons
Eduardo Braniff has discovered that pretty much everything anyone needs to know about business (and life) can be gleaned from The Book Of Mormon Musical, which he helpfully sums up in the this short Fast Company article.
Keep in mind the context. There are two problems with applying this too broadly. The first is to embrace heresy for the sake of heresy ("I offend, therefore I am"). The other is being unique for the sake of being unique, an idea that David Goldman argues has had "cataclysmic consequences in the arts."
Not just a Broadway outsider, a non-Mormon. This goes back to 1. When Mormons (or adherents of any stripe) dip their toes into heresy, the temptation is to beat a particular dead horse with Too Much Information. Or contrariwise, to completely miss the forest for the trees.
The most problematic taboos are the ones that evolve in an organization without anybody knowing why, without anybody questioning why. But because adherence to them signals loyalty to the organization, they're treated more seriously than commandments from on high.
Enterprises? It's shocking how slow churches are to define and live by their own gospels (you can't be held to your word if nobody knows what it is), or how willing they are to kick their gospels to the curb when they become inconvenient.
1. Taboos Shall Set You Free: [E]xperiences that afford us new behaviors and engender new beliefs are the ones we remember. So rather than preach the gospel, let's preach the forbidden.
Keep in mind the context. There are two problems with applying this too broadly. The first is to embrace heresy for the sake of heresy ("I offend, therefore I am"). The other is being unique for the sake of being unique, an idea that David Goldman argues has had "cataclysmic consequences in the arts."
2. Let the Philistines Past the Gate: I firmly believe that only an outsider would have been able to pull off The Book of Mormon on Broadway, and I'm not talking an off-off-off-Broadway outsider.
Not just a Broadway outsider, a non-Mormon. This goes back to 1. When Mormons (or adherents of any stripe) dip their toes into heresy, the temptation is to beat a particular dead horse with Too Much Information. Or contrariwise, to completely miss the forest for the trees.
The most problematic taboos are the ones that evolve in an organization without anybody knowing why, without anybody questioning why. But because adherence to them signals loyalty to the organization, they're treated more seriously than commandments from on high.
3. The Gospel According to Anyone: As much as we read about values-based corporate and brand cultures, it's shocking how slow enterprises have been to define and live by their own gospels. No matter where or what, people want to believe.
Enterprises? It's shocking how slow churches are to define and live by their own gospels (you can't be held to your word if nobody knows what it is), or how willing they are to kick their gospels to the curb when they become inconvenient.
August 25, 2011
The problem with projections
And now to the root of my baptism bubble. It's all about (it usually is) statistics (including the lies and the damned lies).
The beginnings in my case trace back to the late 1970s, when sociologists began paying serious attention to the Mormon church's membership growth. These studies culminated most famously in Rodney Stark's 1984 calculation of a 64 million to 267 million growth in membership over the next century.
Even if the church didn't directly, apologists didn't shrink from pointing to these studies and crowing about "independent" confirmation of inevitability of Mormon sectarian hegemony, and trumpeting the Mormonism's "fastest growing religion" status (an error that continues to this day).
There's one big problem with these rosy projections: the numbers Stark and others were using came from the church itself. The "official" membership numbers the church publishes don't count butts in pews. It's a number derived from membership records. It's a derivative.
Remember what happened the last time we treated derivatives like real things?
Every person a membership record has ever been generated for is included.(1) Because there are more "inactive Mormons" not attending church than "active" members, the database administrators have a problem: when to retire an entry. Answer: when you hit 110, you're officially dead.
In other words, Mormons who never attend church are, according to the church's membership database, the healthiest people on the planet.
Add to this "children of record." Although you don't "officially" become a Mormon until you are baptized, records are generated for children under eight. These records can be canceled at the local level, but that supposes somebody being around to remember (or care) to actually do so.
When my father was a membership clerk, he played private detective and went around tracking down these lost souls. That kind of fastidiousness is extremely rare.
Many COB (Church Office Building) watchers are aware of this, and try to invent other statistical proxies for church membership, such as the number of stakes. But outside Utah, stake and ward sizes are anything but a constant, the result being another loosely-derived derivative.
It is a very human problem. All bureaucracies behave like bureaucracies, and all bureaucrats behave like bureaucrats, whether church or state, whether the Boy Scouts or the Communist Party. Once you hint at measuring success using numbers, the Bernie Madoffs come out of the woodwork.
But that's unfair. The ones causing the most damage aren't the Mr. Potters in It's a Wonderful Life chortling as they screw over the little guy, but those convinced they're doing God's work (while screwing over the little guy).
The irony here is that the church knows exactly how many butts there are in the pews on any given Sunday. The ward clerk does a head count (one butt per head). By now, though, the disparity between reality and fantasy has grown so large there's no easy way to paper over the differences.
This "butt number" is one of the best-kept secrets in the world. The CIA could learn a thing or two.
I can imagine that Bernie Madoff never set out to run the biggest Ponzi scheme in history. But when it became apparent that he wasn't as smart as he thought he was, he didn't want to disappoint people or appear foolish, not unlike the bozos at Long Term Capital Management, who should have known better.
Madoff was once chairman of the NASDAQ stock exchange. The board of LTCM was graced by two Nobel laureates. This isn't about being smart enough, it's about knowing when to hold 'em, when to fold 'em, when to walk away, and when to run. Yep, a Kenny Rogers ballad may be all the wisdom we need.
Alas, even on a good day, very few of us are as smart as a country-western ballad. So the bean counters in the COB don extra-big blinders and gallop onwards, looking forward to the day when the entire world has converted to Mormonism but nobody shows up to church.
1. If you have your records "removed," are you counted or not? Dunno. But the record is never actually removed, especially if you're an excommunicated polygamist whack job. The church doesn't want you hopping to another ward and sneaking in through the back door. You can check out of this church anytime you want, but you can never leave.
The beginnings in my case trace back to the late 1970s, when sociologists began paying serious attention to the Mormon church's membership growth. These studies culminated most famously in Rodney Stark's 1984 calculation of a 64 million to 267 million growth in membership over the next century.
Even if the church didn't directly, apologists didn't shrink from pointing to these studies and crowing about "independent" confirmation of inevitability of Mormon sectarian hegemony, and trumpeting the Mormonism's "fastest growing religion" status (an error that continues to this day).
There's one big problem with these rosy projections: the numbers Stark and others were using came from the church itself. The "official" membership numbers the church publishes don't count butts in pews. It's a number derived from membership records. It's a derivative.
Remember what happened the last time we treated derivatives like real things?
Every person a membership record has ever been generated for is included.(1) Because there are more "inactive Mormons" not attending church than "active" members, the database administrators have a problem: when to retire an entry. Answer: when you hit 110, you're officially dead.
In other words, Mormons who never attend church are, according to the church's membership database, the healthiest people on the planet.
Add to this "children of record." Although you don't "officially" become a Mormon until you are baptized, records are generated for children under eight. These records can be canceled at the local level, but that supposes somebody being around to remember (or care) to actually do so.
When my father was a membership clerk, he played private detective and went around tracking down these lost souls. That kind of fastidiousness is extremely rare.
Many COB (Church Office Building) watchers are aware of this, and try to invent other statistical proxies for church membership, such as the number of stakes. But outside Utah, stake and ward sizes are anything but a constant, the result being another loosely-derived derivative.
It is a very human problem. All bureaucracies behave like bureaucracies, and all bureaucrats behave like bureaucrats, whether church or state, whether the Boy Scouts or the Communist Party. Once you hint at measuring success using numbers, the Bernie Madoffs come out of the woodwork.
But that's unfair. The ones causing the most damage aren't the Mr. Potters in It's a Wonderful Life chortling as they screw over the little guy, but those convinced they're doing God's work (while screwing over the little guy).
The irony here is that the church knows exactly how many butts there are in the pews on any given Sunday. The ward clerk does a head count (one butt per head). By now, though, the disparity between reality and fantasy has grown so large there's no easy way to paper over the differences.
This "butt number" is one of the best-kept secrets in the world. The CIA could learn a thing or two.
I can imagine that Bernie Madoff never set out to run the biggest Ponzi scheme in history. But when it became apparent that he wasn't as smart as he thought he was, he didn't want to disappoint people or appear foolish, not unlike the bozos at Long Term Capital Management, who should have known better.
Madoff was once chairman of the NASDAQ stock exchange. The board of LTCM was graced by two Nobel laureates. This isn't about being smart enough, it's about knowing when to hold 'em, when to fold 'em, when to walk away, and when to run. Yep, a Kenny Rogers ballad may be all the wisdom we need.
Alas, even on a good day, very few of us are as smart as a country-western ballad. So the bean counters in the COB don extra-big blinders and gallop onwards, looking forward to the day when the entire world has converted to Mormonism but nobody shows up to church.
1. If you have your records "removed," are you counted or not? Dunno. But the record is never actually removed, especially if you're an excommunicated polygamist whack job. The church doesn't want you hopping to another ward and sneaking in through the back door. You can check out of this church anytime you want, but you can never leave.
Related posts
The evolution
Blowing bubbles
The truth is worse
The weirdest two years
Labels: lds, religion, social studies, tokyo south
August 22, 2011
I'm being repressed!
I read this:
And after realizing it was not from The Onion, the first thing that popped into my mind was this:
A plague of professional offense-taking has been sweeping the nation for lo these many years. The antidote is to laugh it out of existence. The "MDL" is a good place to start.
(Frankly, practically every PR problem the Mormon church has is the result of trying solve its bad PR with more PR, instead of, you know, fixing the problem.)
Jewish people have the Anti-Defamation League "to stop the defamation of the Jewish people." Muslims have the Council on American-Islamic Relations "to enhance understanding of Islam." Now . . . the Foundation for Apologetic Information and Research is announcing the formation of the Mormon Defense League.
And after realizing it was not from The Onion, the first thing that popped into my mind was this:
Dennis: Come and see the violence inherent in the system. Help! Help! I'm being repressed!
King Arthur: Bloody peasant!
Dennis: Oh, what a giveaway! Did you hear that? Did you hear that, eh? That's what I'm on about! Did you see him repressing me? You saw him, didn't you?
A plague of professional offense-taking has been sweeping the nation for lo these many years. The antidote is to laugh it out of existence. The "MDL" is a good place to start.
(Frankly, practically every PR problem the Mormon church has is the result of trying solve its bad PR with more PR, instead of, you know, fixing the problem.)
Labels: annoying stuff, lds, religion
July 07, 2011
Blowing bubbles
Burrowing further back into my memories, I find another reason that made my "weirdest two years" so strange.
Shortly after arriving at the MTC, all the new missionaries headed to Taiwan, Japan and South Korea were shown a film (pretty sure it was 16mm, that's how old I am) featuring Spencer W. Kimball. In it he outlined the proselyting strategy in the Far East for the decades to come.
The impression I took away is certainly stronger that my recall of the precise details. The general idea was that the church would pour thousands of missionaries into those countries, baptize zillions, and then an army of Japanese and Taiwanese and Korean missionaries would invade China.
It was world conquering time. Hoorah! (Being a Mormon missionary reminds you why nineteen-year-olds make such good cannon fodder.)
Okay, not in those exact terms, but that's what the Risk board graphics implied. Including both Korea and Japan in the equation was culturally naïve, to say the least. And politically, China—which would be welcoming the church with open arms any day now (thirty years ago)—obviously didn't get the memo.
But as Oddball says in Kelly's Heroes: "Why don't you knock it off with them negative waves?" So thousands of missionaries were sent to Taiwan, Japan and South Korea. Missions divided and subdivided like bacteria in a petri dish.
Thinking about it now, it was exactly the same earnest spiel that every multi-level marketing business plan spells out: exponential growth is only a lot of hard work away. So when missions started delivering the big numbers, everybody was primed to believe it, proof that God was on our side.
Nobody wanted to know how. Caught up in the heady good times of any bubble, nobody does (except the cynics with the negative waves). Until the whole thing went pop and plop. And then came the inevitable Emily Litella moment: "Never mind."
Shortly after arriving at the MTC, all the new missionaries headed to Taiwan, Japan and South Korea were shown a film (pretty sure it was 16mm, that's how old I am) featuring Spencer W. Kimball. In it he outlined the proselyting strategy in the Far East for the decades to come.
The impression I took away is certainly stronger that my recall of the precise details. The general idea was that the church would pour thousands of missionaries into those countries, baptize zillions, and then an army of Japanese and Taiwanese and Korean missionaries would invade China.
It was world conquering time. Hoorah! (Being a Mormon missionary reminds you why nineteen-year-olds make such good cannon fodder.)
Okay, not in those exact terms, but that's what the Risk board graphics implied. Including both Korea and Japan in the equation was culturally naïve, to say the least. And politically, China—which would be welcoming the church with open arms any day now (thirty years ago)—obviously didn't get the memo.
But as Oddball says in Kelly's Heroes: "Why don't you knock it off with them negative waves?" So thousands of missionaries were sent to Taiwan, Japan and South Korea. Missions divided and subdivided like bacteria in a petri dish.
Thinking about it now, it was exactly the same earnest spiel that every multi-level marketing business plan spells out: exponential growth is only a lot of hard work away. So when missions started delivering the big numbers, everybody was primed to believe it, proof that God was on our side.
Nobody wanted to know how. Caught up in the heady good times of any bubble, nobody does (except the cynics with the negative waves). Until the whole thing went pop and plop. And then came the inevitable Emily Litella moment: "Never mind."
Related posts
How it began
The evolution
The truth is worse
The weirdest two years
The problem with projections
Labels: autobiography, lds, religion, social studies, tokyo south
June 27, 2011
The "truth" is worse
What he does get right in the process often ends up being right but in the wrong context. Which is not to say that I don't appreciate the effort.
To start with, Farmer is right that Trey Parker and Matt Stone treat the subject with kid gloves. The biggest reason is that they are mocking what they love, or at least like, which should be obvious from this classic Matt Stone quote: "I hate conservatives, but I really [expletive deleted] hate liberals."
Mormons are the kind of white, middle-class conservatives that are safe to dislike without wasting the emotional effort it takes to actively hate something. Farmer correctly concludes that Mormons are the new "retro-cool" group that anybody can make fun of, and Mormons should be very thankful for that.
But he goes off track when he complains that "Most egregiously, the play mischaracterizes Mormon theology," and then spends the bulk of his review telling us why in detail. Except that in a story like this, Parker and Stone only have to be in the ballpark. Getting the "look and feel" right matters a lot more.
In the mission field, the emphasis is on sealing the deal, not wading through the fine print. In places like Japan, where sectarian distinctions pretty much end at distinguishing between Catholicism (that has historical roots there) and everything else, the fine print evaporates into a colorless, odorless mist.
To be sure, Farmer's discussion of the nexus between Mormon theology and popular culture is more interesting than the rest of the review. I'd like to see him tackle the subject at length, quite apart from the The Book of Mormon Musical. But even there he tends to overreach.
Unlike evangelical missionaries who want to save you from going to hell, LDS missionaries want to help you reach your potential in heaven. Mormon eschatology is radically egalitarian, and very American: everyone gets a second chance, everyone wins. It would make a great, cheesy musical number.
Except even most Mormons wouldn't "get it," and those that did would likely be "offended" (meaning, not really, but as a sign of solidarity). Again, for the dramatic goals of this story, it doesn't matter. Getting the theology wrong in The Book of Mormon Musical is like getting the science wrong in Star Wars.
(Though while we're on the subject of accuracy, the rank of "co-senior" was common on my mission. And hell is exactly what is promised a "failed" missionary in Mormon culture. Such fears are in no way invented.)
I'm always amused by critics who care more about Mormon theology than Mormons do. Since such critics inevitably draw a blogospheric reaction from those Mormons who make a hobby of caring (and deeply), the combustible results may suggest that everybody cares, when the church only reluctantly does (in public).
Mormons don't have to care unless they really want to (in their own free time). Mormonism is surprisingly free-thinking in this respect: you can subscribe to almost any theory about God and the universe you want to if you don't (openly) buck authority. The church cares more about your behavior than your beliefs.
Which is why even conservative Christians are coming to the conclusion that Mormons are "mostly harmless." Because, the goofy theology aside, they behave well. When they grow up, at least.
Here's the real "problem" with the musical: based on everything I've read, heard and seen, Parker and Stone depict Mormon missionaries as far more naïve, idealistic, and well-intentioned than about ninety percent of the missionaries I have actually known (including me).
They don't go light on the theology. They go light on the dumb shenanigans Mormon missionaries and their leaders are capable of, that make the vulgar kids of South Park look urbane by comparison. The last thing the church wants is somebody writing a popular play about what really goes on in Mormon missions.
Which, again, makes The Book of Mormon Musical a godsend to the orthodox church. Look! Squirrels!
As cynical as my own missionary memoir is, I wrote it soon after my mission and left out the really weird stuff, mostly because my still-TBM self couldn't process how psychedelically bizarre the experience truly was. But here's an account of the same thing happening halfway around the world a decade later.
The first 15 minutes directly addresses the subject, and again starting at the 36 minute mark.
Imagine if Parker and Stone wrote a musical about that!
Related posts
The evolution
Blowing bubbles
Pelagius and the fools
The weirdest two years
The problem with projections
Labels: bomm, criticism, lds, religion, tokyo south, twilight
May 16, 2011
Room for the Holy Spirit
I've previously noted what could be taken as covert Mormon references and/or jokes in Bones. Kate recently pointed out another one, "The Death of the Queen Bee" (season 5, episode 17).
The episode takes place at Brennan's class reunion. She and Booth are dancing together. She'd like to dance closer, but he's still struggling with his feelings for her, so he takes a step back and says, "Just keeping room for the Holy Spirit, that's all."
Okay, Catholics attending parochial school probably hear the same thing, a testament to the universality of a conservative religious upbringing. Booth, to be sure, is a cafeteria Catholic, but he eats what's on his plate, and his character is written and acted that way.
Kate thinks there might be two writers riffing off each other. Either way, this confirms my belief that an objectively conservative writer will more accurately capture the essence of quite different religious ideologies than all the touchy, freely "diversity" activists.
This comprehension is also demonstrated in how Brennan's rigid empiricism is evenly matched by Booth's apologetic rationalism. This requires an understanding of how the conservative mind interacts with the modern world, rather than the typical straw men.
Mormonism doesn't reject empiricism or even evolution out of hand, and so has the potential for producing C.S. Lewis-type apologists (like my father with a Ph.D. from Caltech). Whatever their religion background, the writers on Bones often skillfully bridge that divide.
The most recent episode, "The Truth in the Myth" (season 6, episode 18), essentially reframes the main argument of The Silver Chair, without Brennan sacrificing her scientific integrity or Booth giving up on faith. It would have made C.S. Lewis proud.
The episode takes place at Brennan's class reunion. She and Booth are dancing together. She'd like to dance closer, but he's still struggling with his feelings for her, so he takes a step back and says, "Just keeping room for the Holy Spirit, that's all."
Okay, Catholics attending parochial school probably hear the same thing, a testament to the universality of a conservative religious upbringing. Booth, to be sure, is a cafeteria Catholic, but he eats what's on his plate, and his character is written and acted that way.
Kate thinks there might be two writers riffing off each other. Either way, this confirms my belief that an objectively conservative writer will more accurately capture the essence of quite different religious ideologies than all the touchy, freely "diversity" activists.
This comprehension is also demonstrated in how Brennan's rigid empiricism is evenly matched by Booth's apologetic rationalism. This requires an understanding of how the conservative mind interacts with the modern world, rather than the typical straw men.
Mormonism doesn't reject empiricism or even evolution out of hand, and so has the potential for producing C.S. Lewis-type apologists (like my father with a Ph.D. from Caltech). Whatever their religion background, the writers on Bones often skillfully bridge that divide.
The most recent episode, "The Truth in the Myth" (season 6, episode 18), essentially reframes the main argument of The Silver Chair, without Brennan sacrificing her scientific integrity or Booth giving up on faith. It would have made C.S. Lewis proud.
Related posts
The Sin in the Sisterhood
Translated correctly
Labels: kate, lds, religion, television, writing
February 10, 2011
The Sin in the Sisterhood
The most recent episode of Bones ("The Sin in the Sisterhood") features a plot taken straight out of Brady Udall's The Lonely Polygamist: Fundamentalist Mormon with three wives has an affair and ends up dead (okay, not that last part). Booth and Brennan also go out of their way to distinguish between polygamous Mormons and the mainline church. The handful of Mormon-specific references are used correctly.
This is the second time Bones has used "Mormon" material, which leads me to believe they've got a Mormon writer, or are plugged into a realiable Mormon source. Okay, it only affects a tiny fraction of the audience, but that tiny fraction of the audience appreciates a serious attempt at verisimilitude. Though it may be invisible to everybody else, any kind of writing is improved by getting the little details right(er).
Like the old "Engineer and the Guillotine" joke, when encountering bad anti-Mormon material (whiny, repetitiously dull, making arguments no actual Mormon cares two figs about), I'm often seized by the desire to volunteer to write them some good anti-Mormon material.
This is the second time Bones has used "Mormon" material, which leads me to believe they've got a Mormon writer, or are plugged into a realiable Mormon source. Okay, it only affects a tiny fraction of the audience, but that tiny fraction of the audience appreciates a serious attempt at verisimilitude. Though it may be invisible to everybody else, any kind of writing is improved by getting the little details right(er).
Like the old "Engineer and the Guillotine" joke, when encountering bad anti-Mormon material (whiny, repetitiously dull, making arguments no actual Mormon cares two figs about), I'm often seized by the desire to volunteer to write them some good anti-Mormon material.
Labels: bones, lds, religion, television
January 17, 2011
As strange as fiction
"Write what you know," goes the writer's mantra. Good advice, but the self as a resource has it limits, and sometimes you have to write what you don't and trust your research, your instincts, and your editor (Beth Bentley, in this case).
Still, it's always reassuring when you stumble across a real example of something you made up. In this case, a scene in The Path of Dreams that has Elly going to Planned Parenthood presaged this real-life article in the New York Times, and even strikes a similar philosophical note at the end.
From "Single, Female, Mormon, Alone" by Nicole Hardy:
From The Path of Dreams:
If you're not Mormon, I'd recommend reading chapter one of The Path of Dreams to put Hardy's article in context.
Still, it's always reassuring when you stumble across a real example of something you made up. In this case, a scene in The Path of Dreams that has Elly going to Planned Parenthood presaged this real-life article in the New York Times, and even strikes a similar philosophical note at the end.
From "Single, Female, Mormon, Alone" by Nicole Hardy:
And that brought me to tears, sorrowful for the ways in which we all suffer, in whatever ways we do, and grateful for the unlikely refuge [offered by Planned Parenthood]. Grateful also for the safety granted my own tears, prompted by the delicate weight of a hand on my shoulder, the warmth of her palm against my back.
How unprepared I was to experience tenderness in the place I had been warned so vehemently against. How unprepared for the flood of relief, the bud of hope, after a life devoted to keeping myself separate from my body. Here was a path, an opening; here was empathy.
From The Path of Dreams:
At the back of her mind—perhaps because of the association with female reproduction—she had made a connection between Planned Parenthood and Relief Society. The difference was, Planned Parenthood only cared about Elaine Packard, here and now. Nothing else. Her soul was her own business. And so the unexpected answer came to her in this atmosphere of nonjudgmental amity, so casually that at first she thought she was lying. But she knew she couldn't lie that glibly.
An hour ago, she couldn't have explained what she was doing there. Now she knew exactly what she was doing there, and for that she was truly and deeply grateful.
If you're not Mormon, I'd recommend reading chapter one of The Path of Dreams to put Hardy's article in context.
December 13, 2010
Set Apart
Haibane Renmei by Yoshitoshi ABe, directed by Tomokazu Tokoro, 2002.
Set Apart by Daniel Cronquist, WinePress Publishing, 2009 (ISBN 978-1414112565).
In a small town in a mid-20th century Eastern European country is the "Old Home," an orphanage whose residents are known as Haibane, or "gray wings." The Haibane are born from cocoons with no memories of their previous lives. They sprout flightless wings on their backs and wear glowing halos over their heads.
The story begins with the "birth" of the newest member, Rakka, and follows her life at the orphanage as she tries to remember who she is and what she is doing there. Couched as a modern fable—never digressing to explain itself—Haibane Renmei is an deeply moving study of character and personal redemption.
In his short monograph (running 80 numbered pages), Set Apart, Daniel Cronquist describes Haibane Renmei as "the most Christian anime I have ever seen. [It] has more spiritual truth in it than most American media." His book is an episode by episode analysis of the series from a Christian perspective.
Cronquist is not forcing an unwarranted religious interpretation onto the art. According to its writer and creator Yoshitoshi ABe [sic], Haibane Renmei "is not a story about any specific religion; but it is, nonetheless, a religious story" inspired by his own salvific experiences.
Though Cronquist approaches the subject from an Protestant perspective, nothing in his analysis should raise hackles in a Mormon audience. In fact, the elements of Haibane Renmei that Cronquist admits "exists outside of canonical theology" would likely be considered even less objectionable by Mormons.
Mormons should also be comfortable applying concepts such as the "veil of forgetfulness" and "spirit prison" (though I suspect ABe was thinking more of Catholic purgatory), and the "probationary state" (Alma 12:24) to key plot points.
As the Catholic Encyclopedia defines it:
Purgatory (Lat., "purgare", to make clean, to purify): in accordance with Catholic teaching is a place or condition of temporal punishment for those who, departing this life in God's grace, are not entirely free from venial faults, or have not fully paid the satisfaction due to their transgressions.
Cronquist expands on the unique metaphor ABe has devised to answer (we assume, though the symbolism is well-nigh perfect) the challenge in John 3:4, "How can a man be born when he is old? Can he enter the second time into his mother's womb, and be born?" The Haibane are "reborn" fully formed from their cocoons.
They are all children or young adults (lending support to a Catholic gloss). They live for an indeterminate amount of time and then vanish as mysteriously as they arrived.
The Haibane work alongside humans, living in the world but not of it. They amass no material goods for they can take nothing with them. Instead, "theirs is a world of spiritual growth—a second chance to move beyond what brought them there." Or as it says in Alma, "a space granted unto man in which he might repent."
Once the Haibane have come to terms with the sins that are keeping them grounded, they are are essentially "twinkled" in a "day of flight."
Cronquist's exegesis is clear, concise and insightful. Set Apart is organized as a lesson plan with discussion questions at the end of each chapter. It could easily serve as the textbook for a BYU religion course. Frankly, it'd be a lot more substantive than most of the required religion courses I took at BYU.
When it comes to Christian allegory that succeeds as art and metaphor, with Haibane Renmei Yoshitoshi ABe capably rises to the standard set by C.S. Lewis.
Labels: anime, book reviews, BYU, funimation, haibane, lds, personal favs, religion
September 09, 2010
Burn notice
Twice a year, Evangelicals turn up in Salt Lake City specifically to protest at the semiannual world conference of the LDS Church. Not to protest the church's political views (on that they're pretty much identical), but to protest the utter gall of Mormons proclaiming themselves "Christian."
The horror, the horror.
At worst, there's a little pushing and shoving and shouting. As Evangelicals are openly offended by Mormons 24/7, it's not so much the message that ticks Mormons off as the sheer rudeness. But, hey, it's a free country. If that's how they want to waste their weekends, the more power to them.
Say, why doesn't the Reverend Terry Jones burn a Book of Mormon instead? Mormons would appreciate the publicity and the opportunity to claim the high moral ground while venting clouds of self-righteous indignation. And the intellectual left will finally rush to the church's defense.
Well, I wouldn't count on that last one.
Yes, I know. It's all too soon. The world is still recovering from the international outrage over this incident.
The horror, the horror.
At worst, there's a little pushing and shoving and shouting. As Evangelicals are openly offended by Mormons 24/7, it's not so much the message that ticks Mormons off as the sheer rudeness. But, hey, it's a free country. If that's how they want to waste their weekends, the more power to them.
Say, why doesn't the Reverend Terry Jones burn a Book of Mormon instead? Mormons would appreciate the publicity and the opportunity to claim the high moral ground while venting clouds of self-righteous indignation. And the intellectual left will finally rush to the church's defense.
Well, I wouldn't count on that last one.
Yes, I know. It's all too soon. The world is still recovering from the international outrage over this incident.