Friends,
Earlier this week I took a tour of the Mormon Temple with my friend, Jim Bennett, who is a Presbyterian minister and Professor of American Religious history at Santa Clara University. After enjoying a nice lunch in the Woodminster district, Jim and I walked down to the temple and sauntered around the grounds, waiting for our tour’s appointed time. We looked at the views, and discussed the difference in architectural approach that distinguishes the Mormon temple and the Greek Orthodox cathedral, just down the hill.
At one point Jim and I stopped to listen to a choir that was singing somewhere off in the distance. We looked for the source of the music—agreeing that hearing a choral performance would be an enjoyable way to pass the time before entering the temple. But we could not find the choir; after some searching we discovered that the music was coming out of a speaker disguised to look like a rock in the gardens.
Which was a disappointment.
When the hour of our tour was upon us, we went from the public auditorium to the chapel used by a local LDS congregation, and from there into the temple itself, a building whose architecture I admire. I’m not sure if it fits into a particular school, but to me it looks like a blend of midcentury modern and soviet wedding cake style, with a few traditional Asian and pre-Columbian indigenous Central American design motifs thrown into the mix.
Inside, the temple felt a lot like the lobby of a funeral home. Most of the furniture was domestic, and the art on the walls was a mix of landscapes and depictions of scenes from the Bible and the Book of Mormon (the actual book, not the musical play). Some rooms looked more like movie theaters—which is what they are—and we also got to see rooms where people get baptized and married.
As I walked away from visiting the temple, I felt as if I failed a test. I have visited a lot of religious holy sites in a lot of places around the world, and whether those sites were pagan shrines unearthed in archeological digs, or Buddhists shrines still in active service; whether at the Western Wall or at the Dome of the Rock, whether in cathedrals or in country churches, I always have been moved by the holiness of sacred spaces.
I was not, however, moved by the LDS temple in Oakland. It may have been my mood, or it may have been the music emanating from a fake rock. Perhaps it was the temple’s complete lack of natural light—something I find communicates the Divine wherever it occurs. I suspect a big part of my inability to connect with the Holy vibe of the place had to do with the fact that I was visiting the temple with an expert on the subject of Mormonism and race, something that Jim and I talked about quite a bit together while visiting the temple. It is a topic that can harsh the mellow of even the most generous-minded religious tourist.
Regardless of why I failed the test, I regret failing it. I was hoping to walk away with a greater sense of kinship with my Mormon neighbors, and while seeing the temple didn’t alienate me further from Mormonism, it didn’t draw me closer.
Which is too bad, but the good news is that my relationship to the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints doesn’t have to end with a rock-serenaded visit to a strange building. The work of finding understanding and of building bridges of understanding goes on, and it is good work.
God’s Peace,
Ben