Paul B. (#14),
Much doesn’t change after marriage, but I’ve found two important things:
1. Others’ views towards you change. (?!)
2. You really don’t care as much about what others think, and you don’t feel anywhere near as lonely–even if it’s just your wife.

That is why my rule of thumb is:

“Dating is the process of changing potential friends into permanent acquaintances” (if not acquaintances into forever strangers).

Reminds me of some of my experiences. After the second date with a woman from Provo, she thrust a “Guide to Temple Marriage” booklet in my hand, written by Boyd Packer. The funniest part about it is that she worked in HR of the company that employed both of us. Another woman wanted to go out for Iced coffee and “Talk about the Church”. A third drove me to the Joseph Smith Building to see the feel-good movie, Testament of one fold and one Shephered. The last one, after I balked at baptism, would no longer make eye contact with me, even though we lived on the same street.

I would suggest embracing the vanity of Zion, and get married to someone quickly, possibly from one of those LDS standards dances. You still won’t be treated as you were before; as someone remarked about meeting someone after the prime marrying age, “The odds are fairly good, but the goods are fairly odd” So consider yourself fairly odd.

If you are odd by orientation, Salt Lake City has a sizeable underground Gay community. Shhhhh!

If we were to compare the spiritual “resumes” of the people in the church that I have known, some people would fill theirs with long lists of promptings, feelings, experiences, emotions, blessings, “testimonies”, and so on. My resume would be pretty slim in that area, but that doesn’t mean that I have been living my religion and/or my spirituality incorrectly. I’m strong in other areas. I think we all have different spiritual temperaments, and that’s fine with me.

You talk about a feeling of belonging, among other things (hierarchy, rituals, commandments, etc.). The feeling of belonging is a particularly important one for me… mostly because, in my case, the feeling of belonging is becoming ever more elusive (or is it illusive?). Speaking abstractly, there are a lot of reasons why a person might feel this way, such as a lack of close friends in the ward, one’s sins (and attendant distancing from the Spirit), perceived offenses by others, discomfort with the cultural trappings of Mormon life, intellectual disagreements (with doctrines, policies, individuals, etc.), or life circumstances.

For me, the last category is what makes things somewhat difficult for me. On Monday, I turn 35, which is a great age to be, except perhaps when one is “still single” in a ward where many young men a decade younger than I are able to swap stories about the birth of their second child (for instance), in a church where the Proclamation on the Family is not merely a part of our doctrine, but is, as far as I can tell, the reason for the doctrine. In every way. By extension, the sense of purpose, and my sense of place within the church is very much diminished.

I have no complaints about the members, even when they seem genuinely puzzled on how to treat me, as if they should somehow treat me differently. I can forgive them of those unintentional slights, because the root of those behaviors lies at the heart of the doctrinal emphasis of the church.

Several months ago, Nate, you said something to the effect that you recognized that some people say that most members don’t really care all that much about the singles in the ward, and you said “sadly, this is often the case” (or at least that’s an accurate paraphrase). I’m not as concerned about whether members care about me or not as I am concerned with the idea that *I* care about the members or not.

Being able to care about others is a key part of feeling that one belongs. The doctrinally-induced distancing away from many core religious practices (e.g. marriage, taking kids to nursery/primary, family home evening, family prayer, and pretty much everything about family life, including the most mundane), has taken a toll, to the extent that it just isn’t as fun to be involved in the ward as it used to be, which has made it harder to care much about the members… which substantially reduces my feeling of belonging.

…So, to bring it full circle to your original “ode to religiosity over spirituality”, if I’m not naturally inclined to spirituality (as per your description), and if I thrive on feelings of connectedness (which is the case), and if my feelings of connectedness are diminished (not on purpose, but they are), my motivations for experiencing religion (as you have described it) are weakened, and my sense of purpose for my religion is also weakened, making both religion and spirituality more of a chore, and less joyful.

That’s my lament.

I’m definitely not looking for pity (because I’m actually doing quite well, thanks!), but just reacting to your post. Will my outlook change when (hopefully not “if”) I marry? Yes, I think it will, but in many ways this period of “being single too long” has been incredibly insightful, if more than a bit irritating. As I said earlier, there are many reasons for not feeling that one belongs. I’ve experienced my particular kind of not belonging. It has deepend my sense of compassion for the many other kinds that others experience. For that I am truly grateful.

… and yet … finding joy, or even contentment, through traditional church activities or rituals is mostly a memory for me (from the days when I was still “on track” and still fit the mold), and not something I’m fortunate enough to experience as much anymore. Sigh.

Luckily, there’s more to life than just those things.

Yes, this makes a lot of sense to me. I also think there is something else about Mormonism that doesn’t even rise to the level of ritual or outward observance, but is nonetheless important.

Our practice of lay leadership and extending callings – “everybody needs a job” – contributes to a sense of belonging, I think. There is nothing inherently religious or spiritual about being an assistant ward clerk, or taking adolescent boys camping. And yet I feel the strong pull of Mormonism when I do.

Don’t you think, though, that an important part of the Christian message is an invitation to enter a more immediate—er, less mediated—relationship with God? That is, to seek for a personal spiritual life in all the ways you describe?

The cartoon version of Judeo-Christian history could be read as a series of irruptions of the spiritual into the institutional: Christian discipleship into the Judaic covenant, Reformed godliness into Catholic ritual. If the Restoration is to be seen as an event in Christian history, though, I think it has to be read as a reversal of this series. (Of course, there was Kabbalah and the Cathars; the spiritualists always had to read history selectively to claim novelty.)

Your final statement reads: It is in the thickly embedded particulars of Mormonism that I find more than simply historical identity or corporate belonging. I also find God. You may be a Pharisee in your “strict observance of religious ceremonies and practices, and adherence to oral laws and traditions,” but you can’t hide your spirituality.