In Beck's tell-all Leaving the Saints: How I Lost the Mormons and Found My Faith, she yanks all the stops on family as well as her former religion.

Among other things, Beck accuses Hugh of ritually abusing her as a 5-year-old while dressed in Egyptian garb. She also claims that sexual abuse occurs far more often among Mormons than any other group.

Beck further asserts that the church tapped her phone, that the First Presidency has an enforcer squad to deal with people like her, and that the Angel Moroni statue on the Salt Lake Temple has a rich milk chocolaty center.

It's possible that Beck's claims are true. It's possible they aren't. Not about the Angel Moroni. I made that one up. But Beck's siblings will tell you that she has an equally active imagination. Still, the truth is that I wasn't there.

If true, Beck's claims would shatter my faith. I couldn't bear thinking that I've spent my life completely missing the ecclesiastical point.

First, my bona fides: I am a baptized, returned missionary, married-in-the-temple Mormon, a grizzled veteran of Scout camp, home teaching, welfare assignments and testimony meetings, a semi-alert high priest in the Rosecrest First Ward.

I'm not bragging, mind you. Only pointing out that I've been around the LDS block a time or two, and nothing so alarming (or interesting) has ever happened to me. Pity, actually. Church might be more exciting if it had.

Nope, in my half century as a Mormon, church has been mostly boring. That's about as awful as it can get to a guy with a short attention span. Then again, perhaps this condition keeps me from paying attention enough to see what's really going on.

Maybe the church has tapped my phone in an effort to find out what I'm going to write about next week. It seems an awful bother when all they have to do is call me up and ask.

It's also possible that I was ritually abused and simply forgot about it. On High Council Sundays, I honestly try to recover memories of being tied up by Marie Osmond. Sometimes, when the speaker is truly awful, it almost seems real. Marie will, of course, deny it.

And another thing - I've made fun of Mormons for years and all I ever get is pissy feedback telling me that I'm going to hell. Nobody ever actually tries to send me there.

If the First Presidency really does maintain a secret Danite squad, how come I'm still here? More importantly, why haven't I been asked to serve on it?

When it comes to service, the church only wants me to work in a cannery or haul hay. It's never "Brother Kirby, the Lord has called you to tamper with Sister Beck's brakes."

You can bet that I will be paying a lot more attention in Sunday school from now on. There seems to be a lot of church stuff that I'm not getting.

---

Salt Lake Tribune columnist Robert Kirby welcomes mail at 143 S. Main St., Salt Lake City, UT 84111, or e-mail at rkirby@sltrib.com.