Does Romney Belong to a Cult?

I'm just going to say it: Romney's Mormonism is a serious problem. In general, I don't subscribe to the view that a candidate's religious views are somehow off-limits for political discussion. Ask anyone with any knowledge on the matter, and they'll tell you that a Mormon is Romney: like most people who can somehow summon faith into their lives, his faith has assumed a kind of centrality. So therefore it would be foolish as a discerning observer not to question the influence his religious convictions may have in shaping his time in office, should he be granted it.

It would be silly to think that the Mormon thing will get out of Romney's way if he were to become president. He is, after all, pretty serious about the church:

In Mitt Romney’s case, not only is he a privately devout Mormon, he has donated millions of dollars to his church and once served as a bishop in the Boston ward of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. It is reasonable to conclude, then, that his Mormon faith will inform the decisions he makes if he becomes president, even if he is reluctant to openly discuss it.

To compare, in Obama's case, his religion informs his moral and ethical decisions, no doubt, but not his politics.

The American Right too often makes it seem as though God and government are inseparable, and while these two things needn't necessarily connect, the thrust of Mormonism as an issue (and it is an issue, believe me) into the race makes the unholy marriage of religion and politics in the United States more troubling still. To have a serious Mormon contender for the White House would have been wholly unthinkable not all that long ago. (Still, a black president was never considered a likely prospect before 2008, either.) And yet here we are.

I have little clue as to whether 'cult' is an appropriate description of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, as Robert Jeffress has insisted. Nor am I entirely sure where the line between religion and a cult should be drawn.

Who am I to judge? Who is to say that the interpretation of history preached from the LDS pulpit is any more ridiculous or laughable than those of, say, the Catholic Church? That is, the Rome-based institution of which I am, by no choice of my own, a member. Is that not just slightly cultic? Will Jesus Christ return — don't laugh — in Missouri rather than Israel, as the Mormon faithful are told to believe with all their heart and soul? I wouldn't bet on either outcome as likely, but I think you get my point.

When it comes down to a simple matter of distinction between a cult and a religion, things can get hazier than you might expect. There are cult-like properties in every religion, but in America's very own homegrown religious practice, they seem almost too good, too clichéd to be true. They have a president, whom they regard as a prophet, and who is steeped in papal infallibility. There's the infamous underwear, to mark them off from the rest of us, as well as the commitment to a puritan rejection of anything remotely indulgent, like alcohol, sex, or caffeine. Sounds fabulous, right? Its members can be ordered to shun those who show signs of losing interest, and it is believed that the church can be even harder to leave than it is to join. How charming.

Some have said that it's this lack of openness that distinguishes Mormonism as a cult. While I don't quite understand the appeal myself, it's encouraging that anyone can wander into a Catholic parish and sit down and feel fairly welcome in the company of its members. We have made a habit of considering religions to be more benign than sinister. But there are exceptions to every rule: for example, only a cretin trembling with fear of retaliation from the deluded would be so generous as to describe Islam as benign.

And then there's this loathsome little nugget: recently Church leaders have taken to amassing the souls of the dead, and performing posthumous conversions. Perhaps you didn't know that the six million victims of the Holocaust are now counted as LDS adherents. What's more, once the ghastly practice had been discovered and condemned by outsiders, there was still a reluctance to stop the divinely-inspired campaign of identity theft.

The crass enterprise inspires a resounding "how dare you?" response. And rightly so.



The church adhered steadfastly to its pro-slavery sentiments all throughout the Civil War, and even held the egregious view that African Americans were a special but ultimately inferior creation. You might simply dismiss this as an example of historical indifference to good taste; after all, they weren't alone in the view, particularly in Mormonism's southern cradle. But this contention becomes significantly harder to uphold when one considers that they weren't prepared to admit black people to the priesthood until 1978. Like most of these changes of heart, the official line is that it was the product of a divine revelation. How very, very sincere.

I don't think this is a suitable background for a presidential candidate. Perhaps the question should be asked of Willard Romney: what does it feel like to have been a member of an officially racist organization? Maybe then we'll get some more answers from the GOP nominee, and a little less protest from others when someone brings up his religion — which is, after all, an issue worth noting.

(Image: C.C.A. Christensen's painting of Joseph Smith receiving the Golden Plates from the Angel Moroni at the Hill Cumorah. Entitled "The Hill Cumorah".)