Mormon Land

The U.S. Central Area Presidency of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints issued an official statement last month opposing the Idaho Reproductive Freedom and Privacy Act, better known as Proposition 1. The memo was brief. Its signers, all men, did not get into the debates swirling around the ballot measure widely seen as having a decent shot at passing this November. Instead, it read: “Our long-held stance on abortion remains clear and unchanged.” A few weeks later, the church cut a check for $1 million to the group opposing the measure. Official church policy opposes “elective abortion for personal or social convenience.” However, it has long noted that there are circumstances in which abortion is not a sin. Those include a pregnancy resulting from rape or incest, if the “life or health” of the mother is in “serious jeopardy,” and instances when a fetus is found to have “severe defects that will not allow the baby to survive beyond birth.” Current Idaho law is more restrictive, barring abortion at all stages of pregnancy with an exception for the life of the mother. Survivors of rape and incest who have reported the crime to law enforcement can also seek an abortion during the first trimester. In contrast, Prop 1 goes, arguably, further in its allowances than church policy, establishing “a right to make private reproductive healthcare decisions, including abortion up to fetal viability and in medical emergencies.” The result is a Latter-day Saint community split on the measure, along with heated arguments online and off over what these laws and proposed laws mean for maternal and newborn health. This week, Heather Pugmire, a Latter-day Saint and OB-GYN, describes her own experience practicing in Idaho and her wrestle with the question of how to vote come Election Day.

Six years ago, the book “Jesus and John Wayne: How White Evangelicals Corrupted a Faith and Fractured a Nation” hit shelves. A 75-year history of evangelical masculinity, The New York Times bestseller laid out the forces that, according to author Kristin Kobes Du Mez, turned President Donald Trump into a hero of the religious right. Now the professor of history at Calvin University is out with a new book, “Live Laugh Love: The Secret History of White Christian Women and the World They Made.” Precious Moments figurines. Purity culture. “Little House on the Prairie” and free enterprise. They’re all connected in Du Mez’s telling of a system that promised women everything — and often demanded the same. Although primarily focused on white evangelicals, the names of women of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints are woven throughout the often biting history that has joined its predecessor on The New York Times’ bestseller list. Despite their theological differences, the women from both traditions came together through the years to, she writes, “define conservative femininity for generations to come.” This week, Du Mez traces the contributions of Latter-day Saint women past and present to this ideal.

“The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints is opposed to gambling. … [It] is motivated by a desire to get something for nothing. This desire is spiritually destructive. It leads participants away from the Savior’s teachings.” With those words, the faith’s position is clear. No gambling — of any type. So when The Atlantic staked staff writer McKay Coppins, a practicing Latter-day Saint, $10,000 to place bets while investigating the booming business of sports betting, he felt the need to consult with his bishop. Since the money wouldn’t be his own and the assignment was for research, the wary church leader gave Coppins the go sign but added a caution: “Be careful.” During the ensuing months, Coppins learned the wisdom behind that warning as he came to understand the addictive nature of gambling and the odds against winning at it. “I started with $10,000,” he said. “I ended with less than $200. I lost, basically, all of it.” On this week’s show, he discusses his article, titled “Sucker: My year as a degenerate gambler,” along with what he discovered about the industry, himself and the implications of sports betting for Latter-day Saints.

There was a time in the 1960s when W. Cleon Skousen, who died in 2006 at 92, was a widely known and controversial conservative figure in The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. Skousen was a popular speaker, teacher and writer, whose books about scriptures reflected a literal, nonmodernist approach to the Bible. He was a zealous anti-communist who freely mixed his Mormonism with his political views. He worked for a time as a special agent for the FBI and later as Salt Lake City’s police chief. His books — including “The First 2,000 Years” and “The Naked Communist” — became ubiquitous in Latter-day Saint homes as members grappled with the Cold War and predictions of an imminent apocalypse. On this week’s show, Latter-day Saint historian Benjamin Park, who is working on a biography of Skousen, discusses the man’s early beginnings and why his works are finding an unexpected audience among President Donald Trump’s supporters today.

There was a time in the 1960s and ’70s, when Marion Duff Hanks was better known than almost any other Latter-day Saint leader. The boyish, handsome, charismatic and deeply literate Hanks was tapped in 1953 at age 31 as a general authority in The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints and was not released from full-time service in the faith until 1992. “Duff” (as his friends called him) was beloved for his winning ways as a speaker and teacher, his rapport with teens, and his ability to discuss Shakespeare, popular television shows, the scriptures, newspaper stories, ancient history and contemporary issues. Members also smiled at the light-colored suits he sometimes donned for General Conferences amid a sea of black. He was the mission president to two future apostles (Jeffrey R. Holland and Quentin L. Cook) and a groundbreaking historian (D. Michael Quinn) — and loved all his charges. At the same time, Hanks, who died in 2011, was a “progressive” before many Latter-day Saints even knew what the word meant. He spoke of Christ and social justice, for example, and reached out to those on the margins of the church — which made him a hero and mentor to writers like Carol Lynn Pearson and activists like Warner Woodworth. Yet few modern members know of Hanks’ extraordinary life. Last year, Hanks’ son, Richard Hanks, wrote a biography of his father, “To Be a Friend of Christ: The Life of Marion D. Hanks,” drawing on otherwise unavailable primary sources — journals, correspondence, notebooks and recordings. And the Utah-based faith recently made a ton of Hanks’ papers publicly available. On this week’s show, Richard Hanks discusses his father’s life, and what his work meant for the church and future generations.

Carol Lynn Pearson, renowned Latter-day Saint poet, playwright and activist, began keeping a nearly daily diary when she was a senior at Brigham Young High School in 1956. And she never stopped. The first of her four volumes, which is out now, reads like a chronicle of Mormonism’s intellectual history from the 1960s through 1980s. Pearson, who grew up in Utah and now lives in California, comments on the battle over civil rights and the Equal Rights Amendment, as well as the issues of patriarchy and polygamy in The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. Her first book of poetry, “Beginnings,” sold an astounding 150,000 copies, making her one of Mormonism’s earliest celebrities. The feisty writer went on to produce several more bestsellers, including “The Ghost of Eternal Polygamy” and “No More Goodbyes: Circling the Wagons Around Our Gay Loved Ones.” Pearson is a lively storyteller as she recounts conversations with top Latter-day Saint leaders, including church President Dallin Oaks (whom she knew when he led Brigham Young University) and longtime Relief Society General President Belle Spafford. And she movingly describes in “Goodbye, I Love You,” falling in love with Gerald Pearson, having children with him, letting him go to live as a gay man, and welcoming him back to care for him as he died of AIDS.

Ronell Hugh says he was recently hiking a trail in Highland, Utah, when a white man in a gray truck leaned out his window and shouted a racist threat. It was a moment both startling and deeply troubling for the president of the Genesis Group, a support organization for Black Latter-day Saints. Hugh hadn’t been threatened like that before since living in the Beehive State. But he had heard lots of stories from other members of his Black congregation, who told him that racism has been on the rise due to the current political climate in the country as well as in Utah, where The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints is the dominant religious institution. On this week’s show, Hugh, a Latter-day Saint convert and marketing executive who most recently worked for church-owned Deseret Book, discusses the increase in racial tension, what top church leaders have said about it and how Latter-day Saints can counter the sin of racism.

On April 4, millions of Latter-day Saints worldwide raised their hands to show symbolic support for their new prophet-president, Dallin H. Oaks. It was a rare ritual, called a solemn assembly, done primarily at the time of a new leader for The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. But this act of “sustaining” is also commonly used in congregations as a way to express goodwill and welcoming to new members and to members who have completed their volunteer assignments or are accepting new ones. “With those raised hands and encouraging smiles, we [are] participating in common consent, where we can choose to sustain, by the raising of the right hand, those called to serve,” apostle Patrick Kearon explained right after Oaks’ solemn assembly. “Common consent is not a mere formality but a beautiful mix of our agency, unity and faith. It is a voluntary, personal commitment to support, uphold and help the Lord’s called servants in their responsibility.” And it is almost always unanimous. But does that act imply members are or should be in complete agreement with those who are sustained? Or that the leaders are infallible? Or that the thinking among members is done? On this week’s show, Taylor Kerby, author of “Scrupulous: My Obsessive Compulsion for God,” and Heather Sundahl, a historian at Exponent II and a marriage and family therapist in Provo, discuss the church’s teachings about “sustaining.”