Conversations With Train Station Mormons

They stand there outside of the train station in the cold November evenings. Always the same two. A young Japanese man and a man with cornflower blonde hair. They are dressed only in neatly pressed black suits, spotless shoes and perfectly done up ties. They also wear smiles, the sort of smile that doesn’t says “I’m so very happy” but the sort of smile that says “Boy, do I have something to sell you”. They stop everybody, nobody passes without a word and nobody ever stops. All who rush outside of the train stations heading for home or bars or taxi cabs to take them to home or bars continue on their rushed pace and despite the lack of a welcoming audience the two men in the suits smile on. Somebody will stop eventually, I imagine they must be thinking, and they were right. Recently somebody has been stopping there in the cold with the two men. That somebody has been me. And so begins my evening chats with…The Mormons.

Let me state that I think Mormonism is a large, boiling vat of bullshit. Bullshit with chunks of mutated hybrid bullshit. Not to knock the Mormons, though. This is pretty much my stance on all organized religion be it the one I was raised in, Christianity, or be it Islam, Hinduism or those insane fuckers over at the Church of Scientology. I like my religion to be disorganized. People should always be questioning their faith, their surroundings and the wheres and whys of their being as opposed to putting all their proverbial eggs into one unseen deity and a couple of hundred pages of a book. I do seem to pick on the Mormons above all other religious groups, though. They are easy targets. I actually point towards the Mormons as proof that the everything from Genesis to Revelations in the bible, the entire basis for the religion, could very well be fiction. I mean, get this. The Christians don’t believe the Mormons and the Mormons believe portions of what the Christians believe with some slight changes to the text. Changes to the text? Wasn’t it the word of God? How can we be editing such things or adding to them? Is it not possible that the founder of Mormonism just fabricated elements to form his OWN doctrine and if you can believe that is it not possible that the bible itself is a fabrication of various authors, a collection of fables and fictions that over time became worshiped, fought over and killed for?

Need more, do you? Okay, Mormonism was founded by Joseph Smith Jr. Smith started having visions at the age of 14 where he is said to have seen both God and Christ appear to him. He was out in the woods. Alone. Just nature and Smith and then comes along God and Jesus on one of their father son hikes. God and Jesus told Smith that the religions of the world were incorrect paths towards heaven and that Smith had to blaze the right one. Smith would later claim to he visited by a angel by the name of Moroni. Moroni, Smith said, was a true Native American. Moroni was white, though, and didn’t have his land raped and stolen from him…but Native American he was, said Smith. You see, real Native Americans came from Jerusalem many, many years ago, said Moroni, and two tribes were drawn after Christ returned to earth and, for a time, lived in the United States. One tribe killed off the other and as “punishment” their skin was turned “red” and, thus, these evil doers became the Native Americans we now know. With aid of the angel Smith was lead to a great discovery. In 1827, there in western New York, Smith was brought to the burial place of an ancient book. Written on golden plates were even more words from God. Apparently the Bible wasn’t enough. There needed to be a sequel. What this was doing in New York State, well…who cares. These were written by the original Native Americans (you know, the white folks from Jerusalem) in a continuing mission to spread the word of God, said Smith, who quickly touted his findings. With the help of an angel Smith was able to translate the words that would later form the foundations of the Book of Mormon. Oh yeah, there were also some sear stones in the box with the gold plates that would allow Smith to read the ancient language. You still with me? Smith was conveniently told by Moroni that he couldn’t reveal this (read: evidence) to anybody else. Translating the eventual Book of Mormon from the language on the gold plates was tricky stuff. Smith needed cash, you see, to pay to publish the book. He turned to a friend named Martin Harris. Against the better judgement of his wife, Harris believed Smith and together they translated the book. Harris would never see the fabled plates, however. Smith could only translate them but placing them in a hat and using the stones to read them, face buried there in the hat. He needed dark, you see, because the sear stones made the letters transform into English. Smith, head in the hat, read the translated words of God to Harris who jotted them down. And so came forth the tale of Christ and the Neiphites, Harris brought some of the translated pages to his wife who questioned her husband once again about the validity of Smith’s claims. It is believed that Lucy Harris hid the pages of the book to prove a point. If these were indeed direct translations then Smith could do them again with a perfect match. Smith was upset when the pages were lost and he told Smith he would have to pray to decide what had to be done about the missing pages of the great book. In another vision, Smith stated that God informed him that as punishment for losing the pages of the book he would not allow Smith to translate from them again. You got that? Smith wouldn’t recreate the “lost” words because God told him so thus he didn’t have to recreate anything and risk invalidating his claim. And so the two started all over, Smith with his head in the hat, and the final book of Mormon was printed and published. Does all this sound loony to you? Visions? Golden plates? Magic stones? What sort of nut beliefs this crap? Well, according to a survey done in 2004, about 12,275,822 nuts believe it and two of them wait nightly outside of Yagi station trying to get others to believe it.

Now, part of my problem with all this is door to door selling of your belief system as though it were a vacuum cleaner or a set of steak knives. Why not just have people come to you should they be curious? But there they stood outside the station, as they have for about three weeks now, in their suits and ties waiting for somebody to stop. It wasn’t my intention to talk to them. I knew they were Mormons. I’ve been seeing them all over the place here. I couldn’t get by them, though. The blonde haired one saw fresh fish and he wanted to catch it. He stepped out and blocked my path. “Hi,” he said in a thick accent I later discovered was New Zealand. “How are you tonight?” I was about to say “Not interested” when I paused. I was curious. What brings a guy to Japan to spread the word of the golden plates and sear stones? Instead I said:

“Mormon, right?”
“You’re familiar with Mormonism?”
“I’m aquatinted with it, I’d say. Golden plates. Magic stones. Right?”
“Sort of. How about we-“
“Listen, you’re not going to get me. I’m curious, though, what makes you come to nowhere land Japan to pick up recruits outside of a train station. I don’t mean to insult you or anything, but I’m not a believer if that’s what you’re looking for.”
“Well, what do you believe in?”
“Me. Tangible, ever present me. Listen,” I look at his name tag, “Brian….listen Brian, I think people need to believe in themselves before they start latching on to the invisible. Most people turn to God’s because they don’t have faith in themselves. Would you agree?”
Brian is getting uncomfortable. Logic tends to do that to Bible…errr Book of Mormon thumpers. “I don’t disagree entirely.”
“Well, that’s a start down the road to salvation. I’d be happy to chat about Brianism but until then I have to get home. Goodnight.”
“Goodnight.”

I wonder if I left some sort of imprint there. I doubt it. But Brian no longer tries to sell me on his views and I no longer tout mine. We remain individual in our faiths and this, I believe, is how we all should be. Instead Brian and I spend a few moments the nights he is stationed outside of Yagi station talking about life in Japan, how much we miss our loved ones and the differences in our cultures. Brian is a great guy. I could be friends with Brian, I think. Sure, I think his religious views are completely insane but my beliefs on his beliefs shouldn’t matter. Yes, I think Mormonism is a terrible lie but whatever gets Brian through his life is fine by me so long as he doesn’t push it in my direction. And so now with the religions that divide us kept to ourselves, Brian and I have a nice five minute friendship outside of a train station in a country that is not our own. We get along just fine. If only it were this simple for everybody.