Meaning snuck up on me again recently. It can do that. At a moment you least expect, something happens that makes you think a little more deeply, and you never saw it coming.
In our funny language, meaning has many meanings. In this instance, I do not mean the synonym for purpose. I mean provocative, reflection-inducing, the opposite of trivial.
This time, the vessel was a play, musical theater currently wildly popular. Except in Salt Lake City. But, as you will learn, that’s a metaphor.
“The Book of Mormon” is advertised as one of the funniest Broadway plays ever. It might be. There are lots of laughs. Its reviewers cite the gentleness of the satire, about doctrinal religions in general, and Mormonism in particular. It is gentle. It does poke fun at cultural overlays of religion but not at the idea of faith.
If you were pitching the play as a book, your lead line might read “two teenage Mormon missionaries land in northern Uganda excited to spread the word of Joseph Smith and find unexpected realities.” Every point in the pitch is accurate: Mormon missionaries are believers in their youth; they go to many parts of the world; they always must deal with a host culture.
So far, the plot sounds as flat as the Book of Mormon does itself in describing the battles between the Nephites and Lamanites, as read by Elder Cunnigham in the play.
But wait. There’s so much more.
We laugh as Elder Price and Elder Cunningham lose themselves in the ecstasy of a dance routine that features an African chant. They find out that the words are actually, in the Elders’ eyes, blaspheming God. They learn, however, that the people have been visited by missionaries before who promised much would come from belief in their God, stayed a short while, and left the people no better off than they were.
At a crucial plot point, Elder Price, the star pupil, the one from whom everyone expects greatness, gives up, leaving the perennial screw-up, Elder Cunningham, with the responsibility of completing the mission.
In our years in schools, Judy and I described “90 degree” kids and “45 degree angle thinkers.” The 90 degree kids (and I was a star example of the type in high school) asked their teachers to lay out what it took to earn an A and set out to do that. They (and I) focused on the goal and went for it.
The 45 degree angle thinkers saw the world differently. Sometimes they toed the line, and sometimes they did not. Their questions were the inopportune ones that could steer a lesson off its plan. Their essays sometimes brought in points that regular minds wouldn’t.
In schools, they were always the more interesting kids. In the larger context, they are the ones who change the world. In the play, the 45 degree angle thinker is suddenly in charge. And the world changes.
To psyche himself up for the task, Elder Cunningham challenges himself to “man up,” just like Jesus did when facing crucifixion: a 21st century version of “not my will but thine be done.”
Elder Cunningham’s teaching features Golden Plates, Joseph Smith, Brigham Young and “paradise,” Salt Lake City, staples of the story of the church. But, the specific facts and descriptions are told with vast poetic license.
The teaching works. The core messages of the faith get through, and the purpose of the missionaries is fulfilled. The people of this village in northern Uganda make the stories their own, and accept the deeper meaning.
They present their version to the Elders’ District Superintendent, whose commitment is to the literal, the dogmatic. He is not amused, and castigates Elder Cunningham’s work.
People of a Certain Age, if you are a person of faith, does every bit of your belief derive only from the precise writings you follow? Herein lies a point for deep reflection. How much has the core message of your prophet or savior been affected by the culture, customs, and history of followers? Which is more important, the words or the message?
The first of the villagers to be baptized becomes disillusioned when she hears the judgment of the District Superintendent. She complains: one more round of missionaries bringing false hope. She laments what she sees as the falseness of the stories she and her friends have made their own.
She is turned back to hope and joy, however, when a village woman assures her that everybody else there has known all along that the stories were metaphors, ways to make points about the faith.
That’s a familiar practice.
I laughed out loud, often. I marveled at the creative use of staging, lighting, and language. I applauded the music and the choreography. And I came away energized by how many powerful points worth deep reflection had been slipped into such a short and entertaining show.
If this kind of meaning is important in your life, the kind that makes you think, it is important to pay attention, wherever you are, because it can sneak up on you.
What joy when it does!
Daniel E. White
May 16, 2016