More News Stories about Signature Books and Its Authors

Mormon Church Excommunicates Five Scholars over Their Books (Publishers Weekly)
Signature Books Carries On Despite Rebuff from Mormon Leaders (Daily Utah Chronicle)
Mormon Elders Give a Reprieve to a Skeptic (Wall Street Journal)
Exiles in Zion: Dissidents Reflect on Faith, Free Speech, and Community (The Salt Lake Tribune)
LDS Scholars Revising Doctrine in Light of DNA Research (Associated Press)
Former LDS Teacher Faces Excommunication for Controversial Book (Associated Press)

"MORMON CHURCH EXCOMMUNICATES FIVE SCHOLARS OVER THEIR BOOKS"
PUBLSHER'S WEEKLY, PHYLLIS TICKLE

David P. Wright, assistant professor of Hebrew Bible and Near Eastern Studies at Brandeis University, is the latest Mormon intellectual and since October, the fifth biblical scholar published by Signature Books of Salt Lake City to be stripped of church membership by The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.

The excommunications, which have affected Signature authors Maxine Hanks (Women and Authority: Re-Emerging Mormon Feminism), Paul Toscano (Strangers in Paradox: Explorations in Mormon Theology), D. Michael Quinn (The New Mormon History: Revisionist Essays on the Past) and Lavina Fielding Anderson (Religion, Feminism and Freedom of Conscience) as well as Wright, are, according to Ron Priddis, v-p finance and a member of the board of Signature, "the direct result of these writers' Signature publications and of the papers and articles preliminary to them."

More Books Coming
Despite the de-churching procedures, Signature, which was founded in 1981 as a trade publisher with emphasis in Mormon studies, will release in early summer new books by Quinn (The Mormon Hierarchy: Origins of Power) and Toscano (The Sanctity of Dissent). The publisher has also issued a statement of defense for its authors in its current trade catalogue: "Signature's publication of these five men and women will not be harmed," said Priddis. "All five are devout Mormons who have been reluctant to express themselves too forcefully. That [the de-churching] frees them. It is the others—the authors and just-about-to-be authors who are disappearing suddenly and who will never dare to publish as a result of this action that we must worry about, especially those who work for the Church or in one of its institutions."

In a prepared statement, Gary Bergera, director of Signature, noted that the house was trying "to ignore the hysteria and forge ahead, but we don't know what the long-term effect will be—on sales and on Mormon scholarship generally. This affects not only us but the University of Utah Press, the University of Illinois Press and others. We all hope for the best." Utah and Illinois Presses also publish a number of Mormon scholars.

"SIGNATURE BOOKS CARRIES ON DESPITE REBUFF FROM MORMON LEADERS, EXCOMMUNICATIONS"
DAILY UTAH CHRONICLE, ROBERT RIGNEY

In recent months the LDS Church has disfellowshipped or excommunicated a number of researchers and writers in an attempt many feel, to suppress scholarship and contrary opinion. In the midst of this chilling intellectual climate, one Salt Lake publishing company, Signature Books, remains committed to sponsoring controversial discoveries in the area of Mormon studies.

At its genesis Signature Books did not set out to champion subversive points of view; in fact the publishing company was initially set up to carry out the designs of the LDS church. The company was originally commissioned to put together a history series in commemoration of the church's sesquicentennial anniversary, according to Gary Bergera, managing director of Signature Books.

"But by 1980 it became apparent that the LDS church wasn't going to publish them as a series," Bergera said. As it turned out, of the 16 histories that were commissioned, Signature only published one volume. The others have gone to places like Deseret Book. "And so, Signature was started the following year in part to provide those authors with an avenue for publishing their histories," Bergera said.

Since 1980, Signature Books has become one of Utah's few publishing houses committed to serious Mormon research, dealing with such subjects as revisionist history, women's studies, and social commentary. The subjects are becoming more and more relevant to Mormon studies, but more conservative Mormon publishing companies still shy away from them.

Typical of the more objective, scholarly approaches many Signature authors bring to bear on their subjects, are those found in New Approaches to the Book of Mormon, a collection of essays edited by Brent Metcalf, which is due out in stores some time in the next two weeks. The contributors of the book put the Book of Mormon, under critical scrutiny, subjecting it to textual and anthropological tests in order to determine the book's historicity.

Elder Dallin Oaks, one of the LDS apostles, took issue with Metcalf's book in a speech given recently at a Foundation for Ancient Research in Mormon Studies (FARMS) banquet, Ron Priddis, publicist of the company said. Oaks is reported by Priddis as saying that the church did not need the new scholarly approaches to Mormon studies employed in the book, and that "you can find material for and against the Book of Mormon, and that finally it came down to a matter of faith."

Deseret Book has refused to carry New Approaches to the Book of Mormon, Priddis said. "The problem was the conclusion wasn't right, which is, that the Book of Mormon isn't historical," he explained. "The contributors accept the Book of Mormon as scripture, that is, that it is inspired by God. But they refute the claims made for it that it is the historical record of the ancient peoples of America." The book has also gotten Metcalf into trouble with church leaders, according to Priddis. "LDS authorities have just called him up and given him a week to recant, or they're going to call a court," he said.

Because Signature publishes research by writers which is not considered to be "faithful history," they have also received a reaction from some more orthodox organizations, such as FARMS which is Signature Books' "arch-nemesis," according to Priddis. FARMS has frequently disseminated scurrilous information about them through their computer bulletin, Priddis said. One such rumor is that George Smith, their publisher, funds the Tanners, an anti-Mormon organization in Utah. "None of it is true," Priddis added.

Greg Jones, the shipper for Signature Books, contrasted Signature's philosophy with that of other more conservative organizations such as FARMS: "They [FARMS] crank out this apologetic material that doesn't hold up to scholarly standards, but it has this sort of pseudo-scholarly appeal to it. It plays on the heartstrings of their readership more than anything," he said. Signature Books, on the other hand, likes to think of itself as encouraging genuine scholarship. "It's funny that many of their [BYU's] professors come to us to be published," Jones remarked.

Priddis, who is himself BYU alumni, and who worked with Bergera at The Seventh East Press, BYU's underground student newspaper, savored the irony that a BYU professor who has had his work published at Signature Books actually lives directly across the street from their office. Signature Books has also published work done by many former church members who have recently been excommunicated. "Of the six individuals who were disciplined by the LDS church recently, we have published, or are in some way affiliated with most of them," Bergera said.

This includes Maxine Hanks, whose recent book Women and Authority: Re-emerging Mormon Feminism, caused her to be excommunicated. The book is to be released in paperback in the next couple of weeks. "It's very sympathetic, actually," Priddis said. The book is a compilation of writing taken from 19th-century Mormon women's publications. Hanks' goal was to demonstrate that feminism always existed in the Mormon church. "I was surprised at how strident they were, very feminist some of them," Priddis said.

Another excommunicated writer whose works Signature has published, is Paul Toscano, who wrote Strangers in Paradox with his wife, and co-authored Music and the Broken Word: Hymns for Alternate Voices with Calvin Grohdahl, the cartoonist for the Ogden Standard Examiner.

Right now, Signature Books is one of the only publishing houses which offers access to Utah intellectuals who want to deal with controversial issues in regard to the Mormon Church, Bergera said. Priddis however, has noticed that the Mormon publishing industry here in Utah is changing, getting perhaps a bit more liberal. He has noticed, for instance, that other publishing houses are picking up on some of the same things that Signature is doing. "We may do things first, and then you see other publishers like Horizon, and Covenant, and eventually Deseret Book, picking up genres that we have done, like child abuse and women's issues," he said.

Signature is trying to branch out into some new area other than just research, Priddis said. Fiction and poetry are pretty well represented, but they would like to further expand their titles. They have just come out with an anthology of science fiction stories entitled Washed By A Wave of Wind: Science Fiction From the Corridor. The "corridor" is what the writers in the anthology call the string of pioneer settlements from Idaho to Arizona, nestled along the western slopes of the Rocky Mountains. "Its pretty subversive actually," Priddis said. "Themes include what the Mormon church is up to in the year 2010. They've managed to implant something into artists' brains. And there's a handler on the computer trying to control them."

Concerning fiction writing, Priddis said that Utah was pretty good in that regard. "Nationally, when we've done trade shows, and so forth, people are surprised at how many writers there are in Utah. I don't know why that is except that maybe people are frustrated with the way things are going... I mean, you get the Solzhenitsyns," Priddis said.

Despite the subject matter of their books, the company hasn't encountered too many problems with their retailers. "There are some LDS bookstores, some of the more conservative ones, which won't carry our books. But Deseret will carry most of them. Ninety-five percent said they would carry, five percent said they will not. The objections have been (excepting Metcalf's book) concerning profanity and the art work," Bergera said.

One title called Peculiar People, about homosexuality in the Mormon church, has had a difficult time getting displayed in conservative bookstores. Some retailers have refused to carry the book on their shelves, but discretely sell the title as a special order. Several hundred copies have been sold in this way, according to Priddis. There is also Calvin Grondahl's new cartoon book called Utah Sex and Travel Guide which is often refused a place on the shelves because of the sexual content of a few cartoons.

Despite these objections, Bergera said that they haven't encountered much resistance. "I do think that the current atmosphere, at least officially, is chilling as far as academic or intellectual Mormon studies go," Bergera said. "But in terms of Signature's daily operations, it hasn't had much of an effect." For now, business is up. The recent controversy involving some of their authors has heightened interest. "But," Priddis said, "what we've found is that when there's controversy there's a spurt of interest, and then it drops way off." The interest has not been all positive either, with 10 people in the last two months requesting that their names be removed from the mailing list. There have also been a few hate letters.

"It's not that we're actually looking for this," Priddis said. "Our authors sometimes complain to us because we do edit fairly heavily to keep profanity at a minimum. From a national level we're perceived as being very conservative, but from a local level we're way liberal."


"MORMON ELDERS GIVE A REPRIEVE TO A SKEPTIC"
WALL STREET JOURNAL, JIM CARLTON

As millions of Mormons attended services this weekend, one of their own—a scholar named Thomas Murphy—has won a reprieve from a closed-door hearing of church elders who were to consider whether to expel him from the faith.

The suburban Seattle college professor recently published an essay using genetic science to prove American Indians didn't come from ancient Israel. Mr. Murphy says local church elders ordered him to recant the academic article, which challenges a basic tenet of the Book of Mormon. He refused and a disciplinary hearing was set for yesterday at which he says he expected them to order him excommunicated from Mormonism. At the last moment, however, the elders postponed the hearing following massive pressure from many of Mr. Murphy's supporters who had pledged public protests across the country.

"Apparently I don't believe the way they want me to believe," says the lifelong Mormon with a master's degree in anthropology who is chairman of the department at Edmonds Community College in Lynnwood, Washington.

The attempted purge of Mr. Murphy, which coincides with at least two other current expulsion cases, revives one of the Mormon faith's harshest rituals just as the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints is on the upswing. With its global membership topping 11 million, Mormonism is among the world's fastest-growing Christian sects. The church also is still basking in glowing reviews of its contribution to this year's Olympic Winter Games in Utah, where Mormon leaders turned out legions of cheerful volunteers and prevented members from proselytizing or interfering with the Olympic party. The man who headed up the Games, a prominent Mormon named Mitt Romney, got so much bounce from the event he was just elected governor of Massachusetts.

Some religious scholars say the Mormon church's recent success and the practice of excommunication are related. "One reason they keep growing is they are quite clear who they are, and a way to make clear to members what they can and cannot do is to use excommunication to set limits," says Jan Shipps, a noted researcher on Mormonism at Indiana University-Purdue University Indianapolis.

The Mormon church, of course, isn't the only religion to shun or cast out dissenting members, scholars say. The Vatican has excommunicated Catholics for disobeying papal edicts. Many Orthodox Jews disown family members for marrying outside the faith. For years, Jehovah's Witnesses who received blood transfusions—a practice barred by the faith—were excommunicated, although they aren't anymore.

In the other recent Mormon expulsions, an Egyptologist in California, who wishes to remain unidentified, faces excommunication proceedings for posting an essay online a few weeks ago saying Joseph Smith, the founder of the Mormon church, committed an error in translating the Book of Mormon. The scholar wrote that in Mr. Smith's 19th-century translation of an ancient Egyptian text, he wrote incorrectly that a certain character stood for the Jewish patriarch Abraham when it was really just the equivalent of the letter "w," according to Brent Metcalfe, editor of mormonscripturestudies.com, the website that published the essay.

In another case, a free-lance writer named Shane Whelan of Woods Cross, Utah, says he was excommunicated in August after elders condemned his book, More Than One: Plural Marriage, a Sacred Heritage--a Promise for Tomorrow, for extolling polygamy as a "sacred" part of the Mormon heritage. The practice of polygamy, although widespread in the early days of Mormonism, has been banned both by the church and by modern state laws. Mr. Whelan suffered a double whammy: his wife, Rhonda, who co-wrote the book, filed for divorce days after agreeing to a church demand that she both recant the tome and avoid "evil influences," including her husband, Mr. Whelan said. Mrs. Whelan declined to comment.

"I still believe this is the Lord's church, but I think there is a lot wrong with some of the people who are running it," says the 49-year-old Mr. Whelan whose book has sold about 1,000 copies. Mormon church officials in Salt Lake City decline to comment on specific ex-communication cases. But spokesman Dale Bills says expulsion by "disciplinary councils" isn't considered punishment. "Because the fundamental purpose of church discipline has always been to help members, rather than simply punish, disciplinary councils are considered a necessary step in repentance on the way back to full harmony and fellowship in the church," Mr. Bills says. Members are allowed to return to the church if they mend their ways, he adds.

With the church thriving, some Mormons wonder why excommunicate all--especially when doing so attracts more attention than the transgression self? Mr. Murphy's essay, for example, appeared in a book called American Apocrypha that has sold all of 700 copies since publication in May, according to the publisher, Signature Books of Salt Lake City.

"Moves that are designed to protect the church are basically going to backfire by giving it all this bad publicity," predicts Dan Wotherspoon, editor of Sunstone magazine, an independent Mormon journal in Salt Lake City.

Most expulsions occur quietly. Mr. Murphy says he chose to publicize his case after a church leader in his hometown of Lynnwood summoned him on Nov. 27 to explain his published statements on the American Indians' origins. Many non-Mormon anthropologists have dismissed the Mormon claim that the Indians hail from ancient Israel, noting that all available evidence shows the first settlers of the western hemisphere came from northeast Asia. But the Mideast link is considered crucial to the Mormon creed because the Book of Mormon purports to recount the ancient history of two groups from Israel and its vicinity who migrated to the Americas—including how Jesus appeared here after being resurrected to minister to Indian descendants of these people, according to Daniel Peterson, a Ph.D. expert in ancient theology at Brigham Young University.

In an e-mail, Mr. Murphy told how a church official, a regional Mormon president named Matt Latimer, expressed chagrin at Mr. Murphy's conclusion that the Book of Mormon couldn't be authentic. Mr. Murphy refused Mr. Latimer's request to recant the essay. Then "the conversation shifted to the procedures by which the church would sever its relationship with me," he wrote.

Mr. Latimer, who declines to comment, had scheduled the excommunication hearing for 7:00 p.m. yesterday at a church office. However, Mr. Murphy says the elder phoned him Saturday evening to postpone the hearing indefinitely, citing, in part, widespread publicity over the matter. "He wants to take some more time to get to know me and invited me to have some more private discussions before taking any further action," Mr. Murphy says.

Mr. Murphy narrowly avoided, temporarily at least, a fate that often unnerves those being targeted. Presided over by the regional president with a "high council" of as many as a dozen officials in attendance, charges are read aloud and the accused is given an opportunity to speak. Then the panel adjourns to deliberate, usually reconvening to announce its decision the same day. An excommunication means loss of privileges, including donating money to the church and participating in such Mormon sacraments as the Eucharist.

More devastating to some Mormons is the outcast label that results. "It's very hard," says Janice Allred, a 55-year-old freelance writer who was excommunicated in 1995 for giving a speech called, "God the Mother," among other alleged transgressions. "It's rejection by your church community, your close friends, even your family."

Mr. Murphy says he isn't worried about the fallout. He plans to remain a Mormon in his own mind, he says. "I think this is a tragedy for Mormon scholars because we can't speak freely," he says.

"EXILES IN ZION: TEN YEARS AFTER LDS EXCOMMUNICATIONS, DISSIDENTS REFLECT ON FAITH, FREE SPEECH, AND COMMUNITY"
THE SALT LAKE TRIBUNE, PEGGY FLETCHER STACK

It has been ten years since six Mormon intellectuals were rebuked and tossed out of the LDS Church in a single month for challenging its teachings on feminism, authority and history. The punitive actions, likely orchestrated by leaders in the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, forever melded the scholars and writers into a club they never intended to join. They even had a common name—"the September Six"—whispered by intellectuals and trumpeted by the news media. Since that moment, however, they have taken divergent paths.

Avraham Gileadi, an Old Testament scholar who has spent his life researching and writing about the biblical prophet Isaiah's prophecies about our time, kept the lowest profile. He was rebaptized into the LDS Church in 1996 and continues to write for a Mormon audience. His most recent book, Isaiah Decoded, is on sale at church-owned Deseret Book.

The other five agreed to share their post-excommunication struggles at this week's Sunstone Symposium, which ends tonight at the Sheraton Centre Hotel in downtown Salt Lake City. The speeches were filled with allusions to death and rebirth.

"It's like attending your own funeral," said D. Michael Quinn of his excommunication for writing about disturbing elements of Mormon history. Or like "taking off a really tight shoe," said feminist Lynn Kanavel Whitesides. "I lost my faith. I didn't renounce it," said lawyer Paul Toscano. "I just lost it—like losing one's eyesight after an accident, and not just religious faith, but faith in the power of my words to make a difference."

Lavina Fielding Anderson, excommunicated for publishing a list of attacks on intellectuals by LDS leaders, has compared herself to a coin perched precariously on its edge, vulnerable to toppling one way or the other. "That's the space I've claimed for myself," said Anderson, a writer and researcher who once worked for the church's official magazines. "I'm not in, but I won't be out, either. It's a balancing act every day."

Quinn, Anderson and Maxine Hanks, also excommunicated for her feminist writings, were lifelong Mormons. They still treasure that heritage and hold onto much that they once believed. Toscano and Whitesides were converts to the LDS faith and thus more disappointed by what they came to see as the church's failures. Here are their stories, in the order in which they were disciplined in September 1993.

Lynn Kanavel Whitesides seemed the epitome of success. She was married in the temple, her husband was a doctor, and they had three children. Whitesides was working for Sunstone and had a lot of friends. But she was miserable, she said. "My life, the way it had been proscribed, was killing me."

Whiteside was disfellowshipped (a kind of probation before excommunication) by her bishop for comments she made on television about how the LDS Church treated women. "I exploded out of the church and my marriage and onto a very different path, looking for God and for myself," she said. "I was angry. I was in a rage. The church was not delivering what I believed it had promised." The church seemed so masculine, without soft places to find comfort. "The absence of the feminine not only makes a home lonely," she said. "It's damaging to everybody in the house."

Whitesides started on an inward journey toward God, with the help of a therapist and American Indian ceremonies. She stopped blaming her ex-husband, friends, the church, and God, for what was wrong with her life. She found a new God—not the God she imagined as a Mormon, "who was looking a me through the barrel of a shotgun, but a loving presence who felt infinitely personal," she said. She read the New Testament with new eyes and found forgiveness and acceptance from a loving Jesus.

About two years ago, Whitesides had a kind of vision in the west desert. "It was a glimpse, and only a glimpse, of how amazingly beautiful God is. And that I was part of that incredible beauty," she said. "Now I'm glad I was a Mormon and really glad I got kicked out."

Paul James Toscano's only regret about being excommunicated for criticizing LDS general authorities was that his anger gave the church "an excuse to disregard criticism and tighten further the grip of oppression that manacles the church."

To him, Mormonism has become "an archconservative culture built on the sand of family and tribal values with respectability as its chief cornerstone. Its adherents are less like living stones in the mystical temple of God and more like living stiffs in a morgue of quiet conformity."

LDS Church founder Joseph Smith was flawed, lied, and acted in self-serving ways, Toscano said. "He may not have been divinely inspired, but I believe he believed he was. It is not fraudulent to be mistaken or selfish. He had a powerful, expansive and prolific mind and genuine spiritual yearnings."

He appreciates The Book of Mormon as an extraordinary epic of conflict among brothers that escalates into tribal hostilities culminating in the violent eradication of the white-skinned and the Balkanization of the dark-skinned races. "Who cannot see reflected in this story the conflicts that plague the world?" Toscano asked. "If it is not a history, then it is at least a complex story, strangely prescient and strangely apt." He said he loves Jesus even though he may be a fictional character. "Even as a fiction, he is the best of all possible deities."

Toscano's wife, Margaret, was the original target of the disciplinary actions, he said. But she was not excommunicated until Nov. 30, 2000. "Margaret and I are the only couple among the Sept. 6 or 7, and represent the leaders' rejection of gender equality, of the fullness of the priesthood conferred on the man and woman jointly, and of the equal divinity and dignity of the Heavenly Father and Mother," he said. Toscano meant no harm or impiety in his 1993 critiques of the church, he said. "There was no malice in my anger, which frankly still lingers."

Maxine Hanks, who was excommunicated for her work on an anthology about the LDS Church, Women and Authority, said she doesn't regret the church's actions against her, despite what she describes as the "endless cost to my life, my family and my livelihood."

"Given who I was, there was no place to go but out," Hanks said. "Mormonism was limiting to me, so I needed to test the limits—to see who I and the church really might be. I discovered that I was more than Mormonism; and that God is far bigger than one church. Excommunication opened the door to a larger cosmos, inside and outside myself." She has spent the intervening years writing, healing, suffering and learning.

"My mystical bent led me to explore other faith traditions from Catholic to Methodist to Episcopalian to pagan to shamanic to kabbalist to gnostic," Hanks said. Her first task was changing her identity from "the rejected one" and to a feeling of belonging. She liked the Unity faith, the Episcopalians, the Unitarians and Quakers. Mainly, though, she was looking for a place to be ordained, because she had long felt a personal call to the priesthood.

In 1996, Hanks found a spiritual home in the patterns and myths of gnosticism, an ancient Christian tradition. She began attending a Salt Lake City Gnostic Mass in 1997, was baptized in 1998, and ordained in 1999, and now serves with two male priests, both also former Mormons.

Yet Hanks has returned to some Mormon involvement. She likes the LDS Church's "Doctrine of Inclusion," penned in 2001 to explain its increasing involvement with the interfaith activities of the Olympics. Last week she participated in a feminist seminar at Brigham Young University.

"I'm happy, truly happy for the first time in my life," she said. "I feel healed and at peace, filled with love and compassion for others, especially orthodox Mormons. Some of my favorite people are conservative LDS men." She now recognizes her own limits, her traumas, sorrow, anger, and frustration. "To be honest, a lot of it is gone," Hanks said. "I like who I'm becoming, seeing and trusting a higher wisdom and pattern to it all. I know that God is making something better of me."

D. Michael Quinn misses being part of the tight-knit yet diverse Mormon community. "When you're excommunicated, these social relationships end for the most part—not because of ill-will by former friends, but because of the awkwardness and sadness that active Mormons feel in your company," Quinn said. "They don't feel free to talk enthusiastically about the LDS Church."

He also misses the many opportunities to serve others that the church offered him from his adolescence until middle age as a missionary, branch president, elder's quorum president, temple ordinance worker, gospel doctrine teacher, counselor in two bishoprics, and member of a stake high council. "I do not deceive myself into thinking that academic contributions can substitute for giving care to the sick, the dying, the impoverished, the orphaned, the widowed and others needing human compassion," Quinn said.

He refuses to help evangelical Protestants who want him to endorse their polemics against the LDS Church and offers his faith and positive perspectives to newspaper reporters who expect only the negative. He mourns the deaths of missionaries and LDS general authorities, both of whom devote their full energy to serving God and humanity.

But if excommunication brought distance, it also brought some relief, Quinn said. "With all its truth and authority, the LDS Church has promoted policies and ideologies that I could not support. Because it's no longer my church, I don't feel any obligation to make excuses for it or to remain silent about matters of disagreement," he said. "I'm not required to 'sustain' LDS teachings, policies, or prophets when I feel they are wrong."

And though his prayers are different now, they are no less powerful. "I still feel the 'burning of the Spirit' within me from time to time. I still talk with God as my Heavenly Father, give thanks for his many blessings, seek his guidance, and ask his intervention for myself and others," Quinn said.

In the afterlife, he expects to be as close to God or as distant from his presence "as we are both comfortable to be," Quinn said. "If my eternal status is like a twinkling star, rather than the brilliant sun of those who are 'exalted,' then I will be happy to be in my proper place in companionship with others who are comfortable in my presence."

And he is not sorry for arguing that "a compassionate, clear-eyed view of Mormonism's fallible past is better than presenting it as a morality play."

"Any church that dismisses its non-conformists as expendable," Quinn said, "is a church that has forgotten the savior-shepherd who leaves the 99 to seek the one lost sheep."

Lavina Fielding Anderson knew a month before her excommunication that she would be punished for publicly exposing the church's harsh dealings with intellectuals over the years. She wondered what it would this do to her 12-year-old son, Christian, her husband, Paul, and their parents, brothers and sisters, all of whom were active, temple-going members of the church. Were the issues really that important? Was she acting out of love or out of pride and pique?

Anderson felt then and continues to feel that it was the right thing to do. She also decided to live a completely Mormon lifestyle within the limitations imposed on her. She still attends church every Sunday. "I wasn't sure I could live it out, week by week," Anderson said Thursday. "It's a blessing of a magnitude that I cannot even begin to express that I've been able to—so far."

In the past decade, she has come to believe she has a distinct "calling" in the Mormon kingdom (not the church) to "do" church vicariously for all those who no longer feel safe or welcome in their own wards. "Just showing up, Sunday after Sunday, means I'm bearing a testimony of presence, even when I can't bear any other kind of testimony," she said.

She has learned to partake of the sacrament spiritually while being forbidden to partake physically. She discovered in the LDS Handbook of Instructions that nonmembers can be asked to play the piano for Relief Society, so she approached the bishop who gave permission to have her accompany the hymns as "an uncalled but permanent substitute." Only two people in her ward have ever asked her about the excommunication and no bishop has brought it up.

When she wrote to her stake president asking what she needed to do to be rebaptized, he responded that she had "to stop thinking the General Authorities could do wrong." She wrote a second letter, asking for clarification of "that quite remarkable statement," she said, and hasn't heard from an LDS authority since. That was eight years ago.

Last summer, Anderson started embroidering a temple apron for Christian while visiting a newly built temple while it was open to the public. It was the first time she had been in a temple for 10 years and, given that she is barred from temple ceremonies, the last time "for heaven knows how long." Christian was married without her in the San Diego temple last fall. It was clearly an example of living on the edge.

"Mormonism is my world. It's my language, my people, my music, my history, even my leaders," Anderson said to the hushed crowd of nearly 1,000. "My God is the Mormon God. I'm not rejecting Mormonism. I'm not trying to reform Mormonism. I am trying to remind Mormons of the truth and power and glory of its paradoxical assertion of absolute freedom and absolute love, a paradox that is reconciled in Jesus Christ."

The crowd jumped to its feet in unrestrained applause for the whole panel of speakers. A few wept.


LDS SCHOLARS REVISING DOCTRINE IN LIGHT OF DNA RESEARCH
PATTY HENETZ, ASSOCIATED PRESS