Though deeply committed to the theological system that governs their behavior, some
Mormons chafe a bit under the need always to yield their own desires to those in
authority over them. They cope with this pressure through the saving grace of humor.
One cycle of stories providing this relief has gained special prominence. The stories tell
of J.Golden Kimball, a crusty old church authority, who had spent his youth on the Idaho
frontier and, though he became a church leader, had never succeeded in leaving the
language of sheepherders and cowboys far behind, peppering his sermons with a liberal
sprinkling of “damns” and “hells.” It was not his swearing, however, that caught the
fancy of fellow Mormons—most people raised on the frontier had acquired that habit
without Kimball’s help; it was his irreverence for the stuffy and the pompous. In story
after story, Kimball is juxtaposed alongside a higher and more dour church authority than
himself and, in every instance, knocks the props from under him. In one account, for
example, Kimball and one of these higher authorities were discussing a church member
who was having trouble with the Word of Wisdom (the church health code that forbids
the use of alcohol or tobacco). The authority, puffed up in self-righteousness, exclaimed,
“Why, I’d rather commit adultery than break the Word of Wisdom.” Kimball peered at
his companion for a moment over the tops of his wire-rimmed glasses and then screeched
in his high-pitched voice, “Wouldn’t we all, brother? Wouldn’t we all?” Church members
who delight in such stories are not trying to overthrow the hierarchical structure of the
church; they are simply finding relief through humor from pressures that might otherwise
be their undoing.
A second cycle of humorous anecdotes fills another need. The main figure in these
stories is not one of the church’s central authorities but the local lay leader—the bishop
(comparable to pastor) or the Relief Society president (head of the women’s auxiliary).
Because leadership positions rotate within Mormon wards (congregation), church
members know that if they keep their noses relatively clean they may be asked to fill the
positions tomorrow they poke fun at today. Hence, there is much less anticlerical bite in
these anecdotes than in similar stories from other churches. The narratives reveal instead
great sympathy for people struggling to fill positions they did not seek. The humor arises
more from the circumstances of being Mormon than it does from the antics of any
religious leader. It reminds tellers and listeners alike of their human frailties and eases
tensions by allowing them to laugh at themselves. Consider, for example, the story of a
bishop who must commit himself to an ideal while pragmatically learning to function in
the real world:
A bishop who was conducting a church building fund in his ward
preached a sermon from the pulpit one time about being blessed for
contributing to the building fund. After his sermon, a member came up to
him and said, “Bishop, that was a damned fine sermon.” The bishop
replied, “Brodier, you had better watch the swearing.” The member
continued, “Yes sir, Bishop, that was such a damned fine sermon that I
gave an extra $650 for the building fund.” The bishop paused, then said,
“Yes, brother, it takes a hell of a lot of money to build a church.”
As do most people, Mormons negotiate their way through life by telling stories. Through
narratives like those recounted above, they link themselves to, and gain a sense of
continuity with, their past; they reaffirm their allegiance to the principles of their gospel
and are inspired to live in accordance with them; and when the pressures of day-to-day
Mormon living at times become burdensome, they find the means to carry on through
humor.
Because religious folklore arises from people’s most deeply felt needs, the study of
that lore will take us about as close to other human hearts as we are likely to come. This
certainly is the case with Mormons, but the attempt to fathom those hearts through the
study of Mormon folklore has only just begun. Much study is needed of those stories
recounting acts of quiet dedication to duty and service to others; though less dramatic
than supernatural tales, these neglected stories are far more pervasive. Likewise, the rich
field of Mormon rituals—those repetitive, socializing, patterned activities that turn people
into Mormons—is virtually untouched.
Researchers must also turn their attention to new geographic areas. Because of the
church’s origin in the Eastern United States and its important role in settling the West, we
tend to think of Mormonism as an American religion. But the success of the missionary
system has transformed the church into a worldwide organization. Of its nearly nine
million members, half live outside the United States. In fact, the percapita percentage of
Mormons in Chile is higher than it is in the United States. The 103,000 Japanese
Mormons probably do not identify very strongly with the church’s pioneer past, and the
22,000 Nigerian Mormons may have rarely heard of the Three Nephites. Yet, Mormons
from all corners of the world hold to the revelations of Joseph Smith and to the principles
he taught. The task for future research will be to discover how these core beliefs are
played out in strikingly different cultures and to illuminate the role of folklore in that
process.
WilliamAWilson
References
Fife, Austin, and Alta Fife. 1956. Saints of Sage and Saddle: Folklore among the Mormons.
Bloomington: Indiana University Press.
Lee, Hector. 1949. The Three Nephites: Substance and Significance of Legend in Folklore.
University of New Mexico Publications in Language and Literature No. 2. Albuquerque:
University of New Mexico Press.
Wilson, William A.1982. On Being Human: The Folklore of Mormon Missionaries. New York
Folklore 8:5–27.
——. 1985. The Seriousness of Mormon Humor. Sunstone 10 (1)6–13.
——. 1989. The Study of Mormon Folklore: An Uncertain Mirror for Truth. Dialogue: A Journal
of Mormon Thought 22:95–110.