Light Reading: Myth-Busting Mormonism in London
This column aims to illuminate dark corners as we grope our way through a world bereft of meaning. Featuring human interest stories from our capital, Light Reading will investigate groups, movements and people who have found bright spots of hope, solace, and sanctuary in unexpected ways.
Church gathering (image credit: The Church of Jesus Christ)
From Polygamy to the Tradwife trend: What’s Mormonism really about?
I was on my way to a pedicure after work when a fresh-faced youth stopped me in the street (I do hate to use the word ‘youth’ because it prematurely ages me, but how else do we describe that blamelessly fresh-faced intersection between teen and bloke?!). As I pondered the semantics, he asked me if I had any time to talk about God.
I’m used to barging the charity fundraisers and charging full wattage past the dispirited flyering folk, but I have less experience being accosted by Christians. This is London, famously both a Godless and a multi-faith place. An urban oxymoron.
‘Are you free on Sunday?’ my new friend asks me, ‘do you have time to come to church?’ He introduced himself as Elder Morrison* even though he had less facial hair than my grandmother. It slowly dawned on me that he was probably a Mormon – a Mormon that immediately performed a miracle. ‘Hey, you look busy, it’s ok if you need to go,’ he said politely. Off I went to the beauty salon, amazed that there was no speech, no preach, no pressure.
When I started telling people I was researching a piece on Mormons in London the most common reaction I got was a grimace. The Londoner’s general idea of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints (LDS) is characterised by the smash-hit musical, ‘The Book of Mormon’ which presents them as a naïve but occasionally adorable religious community, that is nonetheless riddled with inconsistencies and cruelties.
Few realise there’s an LDS presence in the capital, represented most impressively at the Hyde Park Chapel on Exhibition Road that practically backs onto the V&A.
I associated the religion with a smattering of Channel 4 ‘documentaries’ from the 2010s such as ‘Three Wives, One Husband’ that honed in hard on fundamentalist polygamist sects. These framed Mormons as part of weird America that Brits love to feel superior about (fundamentalists broke from the main LDS Church over 100 years ago, and anyone practising polygamy today would be excommunicated).
Most recently, Mormon culture has been conflated with the already controversial topic of ‘tradwives’ (a trend that glorifies traditional gender roles), as seen with The Times’ viral profile of Ballerina Farm, a social media page with just under 10 million followers. Centred around LDS Church member Hannah Neeleman and her family life on a farm with eight children, the interview sparked a media frenzy of misunderstanding. Speculation from outlets has ranged from her being trapped in a controlling marriage to being forced into pregnancy.
‘We’re just Christians. It’s a manifestation of Christianity, like Catholicism’.
But as Jonathan Mace, former general manager of The Harold Pinter Theatre and a lifelong member of LDS Church, tells me, ‘We’re a lot more boring than people expect.’ Few realise there’s an LDS presence in the capital, represented most impressively at the Hyde Park Chapel on Exhibition Road that practically backs onto the V&A (there are just under 200,000 LDS members in the UK. Although decent, it is but a drop in the ocean compared to nearly 17 million members across the globe).
Campinas Brazil Temple (image credit: Church of Jesus Christ)
On his father’s side, Jonathan’s family joined the church in 1908, making him fifth generation in the religion. At the time, most LDS members were emigrating to the US to be near the headquarters in Salt Lake City, Utah, so his family were unique in their decision to remain in the Midlands. When I ask him if he always believed the religion he was brought up in, he cites his mission in Chile as an example. ‘You don’t spend two years away from your family in a foreign country preaching every day unless you’re already converted’.
This rite of passage – which approximately 77,000 young people embark on every year – is not just about inviting other into the fold (the loaded term ‘conversion’ has long since been dropped), but also about finding yourself and spending your formative years performing a service for your community.
A.I. rendering of the stereotypical idea of LDS missionaries, encapsulating the biases associated with this diverse and open-minded community
Jonathan, who explains the Church is trying to move away from the term ‘Mormon’, says ‘we’re just Christians. It’s a manifestation of Christianity, like Catholicism’. Kenya Carroll, a graphic designer turned nurse, highlights a similar misunderstanding, ‘Sometimes if you’re filling out a survey, they’ll be options for a Christian, then Mormon after. Our church is called The Church of Jesus Christ, we are followers of Jesus Christ. That’s my definition of a Christian.’ (Though it has been suggested that the rebrand is a PR effort to distance the group from possible cult associations of the word ‘Mormon’, I will be using LDS or Latter-day Saints from here on).
British Drinking and the Pitfalls of Liberal-Progressive Thinking
Do they mind being misunderstood in the UK? ‘I was a missionary, so I wore a white shirt and black name tag,’ Jonathan smiles, ‘and I was actually a tap dancer. I grew up singing and dancing. I'm like, the real-life version of the characters from the musical - and I'm totally happy with that. I use it as an introduction to conversation.’
Record-breaking musical, ‘The Book of Mormon’, portrays LDS Church members as naive community of neatly dressed missionaries (image credit: John Marcus / The Associated Press)
‘As my journey has progressed, I am more confident in myself and my relationship with God, and less concerned about outside opinions,’ Kenya says. ‘My experiences have felt real and true for me.’
Apart from the erroneous allegations of polygamy (which would make them weirdly woke right now), LDS Church members appear to be more restricted than other religious groups, many of whom have relaxed in our lawless times. They typically don’t drink tea, coffee, or alcohol, tend to abstain from sex outside of marriage, and there is an emphasis on large families.
The Times’ viral profile of Ballerina Farm centred around LDS Church member Hannah Neeleman and her family life on a farm with eight children - it sparked a media frenzy of misunderstanding.
Such guidelines seem to repel our largely liberal progressive population, even as we’re willing to cut out delicious gluten, commit to killer pilates sessions, and pay for webinars on sexual boundaries. So why is it ‘uncool’ to be neatly dressed, polite and health-conscious, as all the Church members I’ve met are?
We feel the gains of discipline, yet we want to be seen to support a world with no limits. No doubt this is partly because we want to feel agency, and not have rules mandated from on high. And yes, LDS members do believe they are following such instructions in the service of Jesus Christ.
But whatever the motivation, they have the edge on most of us with one thing: we are usually alone in our choices, their superpower is community.
When I attend the Sunday service at my local congregation with my new pal, Elder Morrison* and his companion, Elder Martin*, I am struck by a number of things. Firstly, the diversity of the congregation. I don’t think there’s a single ethnicity that isn’t represented.
Secondly, after sacrament, the congregation is split into men and women (on alternating weeks, there’s Sunday school where everyone remains together). Otherwise, the men have Elder’s quorum, whilst the women gather for Relief Society.
Most of the problems are common issues we all encounter – it’s just that the rest of us have to pay for therapy to get a sterile version of the wisdom and warmth I saw in the room.
Aiming to ‘strengthen individuals, families, and homes … and work in unity to help those in need,’ I stay to listen to the Relief Society. And I am deeply touched by the open exchanges between women of completely different generations and backgrounds. Problems were brought forwards and sensitively discussed, with others in the group sharing advice ranging from the purely practical to the deeply spiritual.
A single mother spoke about loneliness and how God and the group reminded her weekly that she has support. Another woman shared her experiences of reading five minutes from the Bible before work so she’d be less grumpy and in a better frame of mind to deal with difficult colleagues (relatable).
Most of the problems were common issues we all encounter – it’s just that the rest of us have to pay for therapy to get a sterile version of the wisdom and warmth I saw in the room that day.
Relief Society meeting (image credit: Church of Jesus Christ)
‘We are given additional opportunities to connect,’ Kenya says, ‘that’s the beauty of congregating. We experience God in different ways and sharing that helps me to not put God in a box’. Kenya, who is Australian, adds that the strong focus on community allowed her to find friends and settle in London much faster than her brother, who dropped out of the church and struggled to assimilate in the UK.
Jonathan confirms this experience is common, ‘we’re very aligned in that way. When I spend time in the US, or wherever, I know I’ll have a place to crash’. A Brigham Young University student (BYU is a private college based in Utah and funded by the LDS Church) interning in London shares, ‘there’s comfort in knowing I’m here whilst my mum is in Utah, but we can call each other up to discuss the exact same Church lesson we had that week’.
I know everybody says these kids are brainwashed, but so was I – I thought taking handfuls of ecstasy made me an interesting person.
I go back to visit Elder Morrison* and Elder Martin* at the modest red brick congregation later. I can’t stop thinking about this pair, probably eighteen-years-old, who have chosen to travel across the world and spread the gospel.
This is so far from the orbit of my British adolescence, which hinged on binge-drinking and blackouts. I know everybody says these kids are brainwashed (or as The Guardian has it, ‘indoctrinated with such nonsense’). But so was I – I thought taking handfuls of ecstasy made me an interesting person. Who are we to say whose programming is more harmful long-term?
I ask them point-blank if they feel like they’re missing out. Elder Morrison* tells me he grew up in a family of six boys in rural America, and watched his older brothers turn away from the Church as they grew up. Leading ‘normal’ lives hadn’t made them happier.
Now they were beginning to have children of their own, they were slowly coming back, seeing the moral foundation as invaluable for their kids. His face is quite literally shining with joy as he tells his story. ‘I’m my happiest when I’m in Church,’ he says, and I don’t doubt him for a second.
Temple in London, England (image credit: Church of Jesus Christ)
Jonathan tells me that growing up in the Midlands he would still go to house parties and be around drinking. ‘My friends respected my decisions. For teenagers it’s rare to know your values, so you’re easily swayed. But if you set out a value position, people understand.’ He adds, ‘You don’t have to be deliberately odd; I don’t think that’s what Christ wanted.’
Later in life, Jonathan found other solutions to the British habit of messy work drinks. He would go to the pub but leave early, ‘people mainly remember the first hour anyway, after that it’s diminishing returns’, and then, as he worked for a big corporate, he began to lobby for some of the entertainment budget to be spent in new ways, for instance, group theatre outings. ‘I thought, let’s try and nudge people towards something different’.
‘You don’t have to be deliberately odd; I don’t think that’s what Christ wanted.’
Anecdotally, younger LDS members in London do drink more than their Utah counterparts, as they say it’s hard to completely opt-out of British boozing culture, especially when it comes to integrating at work. It’s a trickier negotiation than for American Church members, who have the support of a tee-total community behind them.
‘It can be challenging in a world that offers so much,’ shares Kenya, ‘and maybe sometimes feeling like you’re missing out. But I think it’s important to understand the Why. I’ve recognised that when I live my life a certain way I am able to hear God more clearly. I feel connected and I feel his love.’
Personal Experiences with God and with Goodness
All the LDS members I meet describe personal experiences with God. For Jonathan, this manifested in finding the perfect flat at the perfect price when he needed it, or God intervening to bring him to a dream career in the arts. ‘God doesn’t just put his hands on the lives of people with faith,’ he says, ‘it’s just the people with faith will recognise him’.
Kenya says that on gruelling nursing shifts taking a moment to check in with God can help guide her through the day, and that learning to ‘hear’ him improves over time.
A lot of what LDS members describe sounds like rhetoric I’ve heard before.
I’ve had spiritual friends talk about higher consciousness, and I’ve heard builders in pubs talk about gut feeling.
‘I don’t just go to Church for a tick box’, Jonathan adds. ‘I genuinely believe that taking that bread and water every week and spending five minutes thinking about Jesus Christ will be healthy for me. You have to flip it – it’s not a burden or a hindrance that maybe I can’t watch the football on a Sunday morning. Two hours on a weekend is not that big an ask.’
A father and his son at a Church meeting (image credit: Church of Jesus Christ)
Sometimes believing is about choosing a lifestyle too. Kenya grew up in a multi-faith household, with a father who converted to the LDS Church, but a mother who remained agnostic, despite encouraging their six children to participate in the religion alongside their father.
Of all the siblings, Kenya is the last remaining one who has upheld her faith. ‘Sometimes I ask them, forget about the church community, what do you believe about God? It’s led to a lot of interesting conversations. I have one brother who had a profound religious experience, but still decided to leave the Church. So I think it comes down to choosing to believe, and asking, do we want to have a faith in our life?’
‘Just because something is very popular, doesn’t mean it’s right. And likewise, just because something is believed by a minority, doesn’t mean it’s wrong’.
A lot of what LDS members describe sounds like rhetoric I’ve heard before. I’ve had spiritual friends talk about higher consciousness, I’ve heard astrologers on Instagram talk about being governed by planets, and I’ve heard builders in pubs talk about gut feeling.
Many of us have a force that speaks to us without words – so why are we so judgemental about the Latter-day Saints? Even the profoundly woo-woo like past-life regression is getting less ick from the general public. And yet the LDS Church does so much to expose members to, and teach them about, other belief systems, a highly unusual move given most religions prohibit interacting outside their own.
‘It’s been wonderful seeing different places of worship, understand other faiths and recognise some of the similarities we all share,’ Kenya says. Meanwhile, a visiting BYU student tells me that she, ‘loves to experience holy envy. Going to the Sikh temple in Southall and witnessing their devotion to their God is inspiring. All devotion is.’
‘Even if it was all a load of tosh, I would still feel like this is the right way to live.’
‘I think Mormons get a bad rep because it feels so old-fashioned, maybe even homophobic,’ one friend tells me. It’s true that the LDS Church is known for promoting large families and the sacred union between man and wife. Can that be reconciled in today’s society?
‘Look, without being clichéd, it goes back to being of the Church of Jesus Christ,’ Jonathan tells me. ‘He never shunned anybody and he spent his time around people who had chosen alternative lifestyles. Just because I’m religious doesn’t mean I’m better than anyone or holier than thou.’
‘I guess it feels anti-feminist,’ another friend says, ‘but I don’t know why. If they like big families, we should probably stop shaming them for it’.
Hannah Neeleman the influencer who posts under Ballerina Farm, with her husband and children. Their homestead life has recently sparked criticism and unfounded speculation (image credit: Aubrey Bengtzen-Jones and Crystal Lund)
I am particularly amused when Jonathan points out, ‘Trump represents a popular issue. Just because something is very popular, doesn’t mean it’s right. And likewise, just because something is believed by a minority, doesn’t mean it’s wrong’.
People are looking for answers and want to believe in something.
He’s correct in noticing that UK Church members face the unique challenge of being a dwindling, albeit close-knit faction. Being part of a religion that is so powerful on another continent, yet so alien here, must be hard.
But as the rise in Eastern and South American mysticism, ayahuasca and astrology has shown, people are looking for answers and want to believe in something, even in big cities like London.
At the end of our conversation, Jonathan offers as a parting comment, ‘Even if it was all a load of tosh, I would still feel like this is the right way to live. To be self-reflective, to care about others, to believe in self-betterment… there’s just no negative aspect to me living a faithful life.’ Now there’s a thought.
For anyone who wants to know more about the core LDS beliefs, please visit this link
*some names have been changed protect the identity of people involved.