Two Gentlemen of Utah
Persons of the Play
Will, sitting on a bench in Southlake town square, on a rare day off from work.
Mormon first, well-fed but not blimpish, rosy cheeks, ELDER emlazoned on his name tag.
Mormon second, suave, chiseled jaw, moves like a tiger. Sure of himself. Could be in the movies or an iPod commercial.
Act I
Will sits on a bench facing the fountain in the town square. Enter Mormon first, stage right.
Mormon first: How art thou on this fine day?
Will: Exceedingly well, thank you, good sir.
Mormon first: And how is thy cigar?
Will: Aye, quite smooth. It is indeed a cheap one, but strength of the tobacco belieth its price, which would stoke any pauper of the field. A rare find, I should say.
Mormon first: Excellent. I find it rare a man who enjoyeth his smoke.
Will: I concur, good sir.
Mormon first: Dost thou live around here?
Will: Aye.
Mormon first: Hast thou habitated here long, in the lake of the South?
Will: Aye and nay. Mine umbilical chord wast severed not far from here, two hundred crossbow shots perhaps, in crisp succession, to the east, in a park up in the Highlands. Anon, I lived in the tumbleweeds of Abilene, TX, and anon, in the deep snows of Russia; anon, in the cities of Nashville and St. Paul, respectively. Thou?
Mormon first: Utah.
Will: A fine country. Teeming with game. Fish abound, like in that movie with Brad Pitt.
Mormon first: A fine thespian.
Will: A fine one indeed. A master of his craft. A sharp ear for regional dialect. Many babies from Africa, and the entire hemisphere of the east.
Mormon first: And in what industry dost thou labor in this cosmopolitan nook of the cosmos?
Will: Currently I labor in the world of commercial banking. I lend a friendly hand to merchants of the land—young impresarios and old tycoons alike, in their quest for mammon, the love of which we all know is the root of all evil, yet the hate of which leadeth to abject penury, and television without the flat screen or the cable. A luminous playwright once wrote: "neither a borrower nor a lender be," but, alas, such a playwright did not live in the 21st century, where everyone dreameth to invest their lucre for sport, legacy and family.
ACT II
Mormon second enters stage left and approaches within earshot of Will and Mormon first. Mormon second steps forward into the circle of conversation.
Mormon first: Doth thou enjoyest thy trade?
Will: Aye, it pays the bills and it is interesting, and it is a fair trade to learn. Yet alas, it is not my first love.
Mormon first: And what is thy first love, if I might query?
Will: Theology.
Mormon first: Ye don’t say?
Will: Aye. I did say. And I shall say it again: Theology. One of my favorite words in our fair tongue.
Mormon second: And what doest theology mean to thee?
Will: A definition?
Mormon second: Aye.
Will: I shall be happy to try. Yet here are many others better equipped to answer such a question.
Mormon first: Indulge us.
Will: Well, for lack of time and sufficient wit, I shall happily lapse onto Anselm’s classic definition: “faith seeking understanding.” One cannot go wrong with such a definition, other than to say “discourse on God." In short, ‘tis the stuff of the sacred, especially when we talk and think about it.
Mormon second: Faith seeking understanding?
Will: Aye. I pray thee not think I’m an ass if I quote the Latin of it: Fides quarens intellectum, which is one of the few Latin phrases I doth knowest. Dost thou think me an ass for quoting a dead language in a live discourse?
Mormon second: Nay, not at all. I think thee not an ass, and if I did perchance think ye an ass, saying ye wish not to be one makes me think less an ass of ye still.
Mormon first: I also think thou art not an ass.
Will: If I were a man of many tattoos I should burn such a phrase onto mine clavicle.
Mormon first: What? That we think thee not an ass?
Will: Nay. Fides quarens intellectum. In medieval scrawl, right on mine left clavicle.
Mormon second: Well. Please enlighten us. What dost thou love about theology, if we might query?
Will: Well, let me see. For starters, ‘tis honey for the soul. A discipline that is rarefied to some, yet accessible to all that prize her beauty.
Mormon first: Aye. Theology is indeed a thing of pulchritude.
Will: Aye. 'Tis more brilliant than suns, many suns in the palm of thy hand, only less dense. ‘Tis milk and honey for the soul, only better, nigh impossible to disgorge.
Mormon first: What meanest “disgorge,” pray tell?
Will: To vomit, pray tell.
Mormon first: I see. And with that, I agree.
Mormon second: I concur. Yet we sometimes do disgorge such honey. For alas, we humans are tainted and besmirched by our own sin.
Mormon first: More rotten than Johnny.
Will: More vicious than Sid. Our hearts are but sticky floors in a forgotten pub. Crushed under the weight of the Fall, we are frail and massacred souls.
Mormon second: In that dim light, is theology even possible?
Will: Methinks aye. Yet as a result of our sticky-floor-in-a-pub ways, our theology, even at most clear and most most eloquent, is like the workings of a tongue under anesthesia.
Mormon second: A tongue under anesthesia?
Will: 'tis how I see it.
Mormon first: On the whole we are more dumb than brilliant.
Mormon second: Are we damned because of our dumbness or are we dumb because of our damnedness?
Will: Ask Adam, I should say. We are not dumber than him, and we are all equally damned.
Mormon first: Alas, we are a foul lot. In need of a thimble full of grace.
Mormon second: Fie!
ACT III
Mormon first and Mormon second stand wider and wider apart from each other. Will now moves his neck back and forth when conversing with them, much like watching a tennis match from mid court.
Mormon second: Hast thou heard of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints?
Will: Aye, I have. (Will playeth it coy)
Mormon first: And what hast thou heard?
Will: Well, I have heard a lot of things. Yet I have read more than I have heard, and on the whole I trust what I read more than what I hear, if that maketh sense.
Mormon second: It doth. And hast thou read the book of Mormon?
Will: Aye, I have. Although, I must confess, not in its entirety. Yet enough of it, methinks, to catch the spirit of the author, Joseph Smith. I did research the Mormon faith, though, years ago, in leafy pages that smelled of mildew.
Mormon first: Mildew?
Will: Ah, and aye. Those are the best kind.
Mormon second: E-readers such as Kindle hath no mildew and that maketh me angry.
Mormon first: Me too.
Will: Thou speakest the truth so far. Anyway, in my attempt at due diligence, I read books both pro and con the Mormon faith. I even didst attempt to find books that sought a middle ground betwixt the two, yet I concluded that such a book exists.
Mormon second: Aye. ‘Tis true.
Mormon first: Aye. None such a book truly exists.
Mormon second: And what is thy impression of what ye knowest of the Mormon faith?
Will: Well, for starters I admire the Mormonic — is that a even word? I remember not.
Mormon second: Certainly. Our critics might remove the middle "m" from the word, but we prefer three m's. That is how such a word is spelled.
Will: I thought so but I wanted to make sure. I do not wish to offend. I admire the Mormonic emphasis on family, which is sorely lacking in this land of moral turpitude. I also admire the Mormonic passion for circumnavigating the globe and the quest to imbibe from the marrow of other cultures, which I didst evidence whilst I was a missionary myself years ago in Russia.
Mormon second: Thou wert a missionary?
Will: Aye, for two years. Of the evangelical persuasion. A stint that was full of adventure, and most piquant to my soul.
Mormon first: And didst thou know Mormons there?
Will: Thou bettest. I met them on the cobblestone streets of Rostov-on-Don, which is a full-day’s train ride south of Moscow, near the sea they call Black but is not really black. They were friendly folk, I must say. I enjoyed their company, and even met some of their friends and we went back to their temple and I studied with them there.
Mormon second: And what didst thou study?
Will: First, they shared their point of view with me. Anon, I mine with them.
Mormon second: And what didst thou think of what they didst share?
Will: A group of them prayed for me, that I shouldst have a burning sensation in my bosom. And they asked me if I didst feel such a burning in my bosom, but, alas, I did not, and I had to break such news to them.
Mormon first: That thy bosom wast not burned?
Will: Aye.
Mormon first: This was in their temple?
Will: Aye. In the heart of it.
Mormon second: And what didst thou talk about?
Will: I mostly shared my reservations about the character of Joseph Smith.
Mormon second: And what wert thy reservations, pray tell?
Will: Well, I wish not to offend thee, even as I didst wish not to offend them at the time. But I mostly talked about the historical record, that Joseph Smith wast essentially a Casanova who died in a gunfight. This fact would not be so bad if he wert, say, Billy the Kid, yet when one presumes to care for souls and expatiate on celestial things and receive fresh revelations from on high, then that doth become problematic not in the slight. The question of moral authority loometh large. May I say more?
Mormon second: Aye.
Mormon first: Certainly.
Will: Furthermore, methought then, even as methinks now, based upon mine former research, that Joseph Smith was a lover of strange medicines. A second-rate magician who dabbled in the occult. A quack. I pray thee overlook my mettle, for it cometh from an honest tongue, yet in addition to being religion’s answer to Billy the Kid and Merlin the Magician all wrapped up into one, I daresay his protégé, Brigham Young, fared no better in mine eyes. Although, historically, with him there wast no gunfight and thus no subsequent bloodbath.
Mormon first and Mormon second: No response. They stare at Will.
Will: Also, it is my belief that on the whole Joseph Smith wrote slipshod theology, to put it kindly. Methinks skullduggery is a better word. And I am not of the mindset that slipshod theology is better than none at all. And skullduggery is definitely worse for the eternal soul.
Mormon second: Thou speakest in riddles, sir.
Will: Nay, it was Sir Joseph who spoke in riddles if I may so boldly say. One conundrum on top of another. One opaque teaching on top of another.
Mormon first: Perhaps thou didst not understand what thou didst read?
Will: Truer words were ne’er spoken. I absolutely didst not understand what I read. I found his words to be muddy and opaque, with a lack of coherence that was staggering, to be forthright. Did his writings slake my thirst? Not in the least.
And the teachings of the prophets? I remember not the details, for I doth not have memory of the photograph. But I do remember that their prophets often contradicted one another in their teachings: First they said "yay," then they said "nay"; then "yay," then back to "nay"; they zigged they zagged and the yayed and they nayed. And just when you thought they would nay they would yay, with utmost contradiction.
Mormon first: Dost thou relish the role of the skeptic?
Will: Nay.
Mormon second: Then why doest thou speaketh such?
Will: One is a skeptic only relative to the one with whom one is conversing.
Mormon first: True enough.
Will: Were I to sup with the devil, then I would hope to play the skeptic; with an angel, a starstruck believer. And I am not accusing thee of being in league with the devil, by the way. Only to make a point, not to offend thee.
Mormon second: And what point is that?
Will: That I am not a skeptic for skeptic’s sake. And neither are thee, I suspect.
Mormon second: Perhaps.
Mormon first: Yay. I mean nay. Or yay to the nay.
Will: Again, I must say that every Mormon that I have met, elder or otherwise, has been largely agreeable and friendly as a person can be, present company included. Please do not take my strong opinions for lack of respect for thee.
Mormon second: We respect thy honesty. Wouldst thou like a tract?
Will: Aye.
Mormon second: Inscribed upon this tract is one address to a website. If thou hoppest on this website, thou might downloadeth a copy of the Book of Mormon. Dost thou currently own a copy of the Book of Mormon?
Will: I used to have one. At the striking of the clock, though, I do not know where it is, only where it is not.
Mormon second: Please hoppeth onto this website, where thou might downloadeth a copy.
Will: Gratis?
Mormon second: Gratis.
Will: Why thank thee, sirs. It was a most enjoyable chat.
Mormon second: Well, it is nigh supper time. We must make posthaste to our next appointment.
Will: Posthaste?
Mormon first and second: Aye.
Will: Supper indeed sounds good. I myself shall repast before I repose.
Mormon first and second: Fare thee well.
Will: Fare thee well.
Mormon first and second exit stage right. Will throws the butt of this cigar (which is fat and brown and now soggy) into the bed of the flowers. Will exits stage right.
THE END
Postscript: This was an Elizabethen interpretation of my encounter on Saturday. Of course, I was not half as eloquent as the Will in the above play. And neither were my interlocutors. Alas, we fumbled and mumbled our way toward an agreement to disagree. If I had the chance again I would have shared my faith more, rather than taking easy shots at theirs. But, alas, it was my day off, and I was cranky.
