This is an archived article that was published on sltrib.com in 2011, and information in the article may be outdated. It is provided only for personal research purposes and may not be reprinted.
After "The Book of Mormon" opened on Broadway, The New York Times quoted me as calling the musical "inspired." The American Theatre Wing agreed, awarding the production nine Tony Awards — including Best Musical — the third-highest number ever awarded a single show.
But I used the term not to denote the high quality of the acting, music, choreography, costume or set design. I meant that Matt Parker and Trey Stone may well have been stirred by the divine in their writing of the musical.
In spite of my enthusiastic response, Michael Otterson, the head of public affairs for The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, was adamant that he would not see the play. According to Otterson, the unworthy point of the production was "the idea that religion moves along oblivious to real-world problems in a kind of blissful naiveté."
The risk in reviewing a play you refuse to see is that you might miss its point. Perhaps biased by reports of its rough language, Otterson got it completely wrong.
The play's main message is simple and beautiful: If a belief leads people to happiness and a better quality of life, that belief is a good thing — and (here is the key) people shouldn't allow doubts about the truthfulness of that belief to interfere with its impact.
The history and doctrine of the LDS Church is the vehicle for this message. The show is about Mormons but its message is much broader. It is about celebrating the good work done in the world by people holding peculiar tenets — Mormon missionaries happen to be exhibit A.
The play contrasts some actual Mormon beliefs (for instance, the Garden of Eden was in Missouri's Jackson County) with some strange ideas invented by a stumbling missionary. The listeners are Ugandans who suffer a parade of horrible realities. The people are touched and inspired by the missionary's mixed message and they begin to change their lives for the better.
Eventually the elder's non-canonical tales are exposed. A young believer is devastated. Another well-meaning villager comforts her, telling her that the rest of the villagers never really believed the stories were actually true.
Exposing the lie doesn't enlighten and bless the villagers. Rather, they feel foolish and are shamed. They go away crestfallen — until the elder and his companion decide to stay and continue their work. The evil warlord changes his ways, as do others, and a happy ending leaves the audience euphoric.
Truth can be the enemy of good; fables can shape behavior for the benefit of all society. If religious stories help people love their neighbor and treat them with dignity and respect, they are noble, regardless of historical or metaphysical reliability. Being a part of a church organization that tells a story or professes doctrine that might not be entirely correct may be worth it. In fact, the stories are often key in giving members the strength to make the world a better place.
In today's information age, Mormons in unprecedented numbers are discovering unpleasant and inconsistent aspects of their historical narrative. Some express doubt about doctrines in ever-morphing online communities. "The Book of Mormon" (the musical) encourages Mormons experiencing crises of faith to stay and keep their shoulder to the wheel, in spite of their diminished confidence.
Everything might not be as it seemed in Primary and seminary, but the LDS Church remains a community striving to make the world a better place, and it is having a positive impact.
So stay, doubts and disagreements and all. If heard, this message could save to the church many thousands who are tempted to leave. In this way, the musical could be helpful in strengthening the LDS Church. So maybe the hand of God did inspire it, rough language and all.
Adam Ford is the managing partner of the law firm Ford & Huff in South Jordan. He lives in Alpine.