Leaving the Saints: How I Lost the Mormons and Found My Faith

As someone that has recently moved to Utah and always had a weird facination with cults this book was a very interesting read. Her story is heartbreaking and wonderful at the same time. I learned so much about Utah and the mormon church from this book and made me want to read more of her work. I coudn't put this book down.

Growing up the daughter of an infamous Mormon apologist can't be easy; doubly so when you're raised in a cloistered, uber-evangelical conservative Mormon community in Provo, Utah. Just ask Martha Nibley Beck, whose now-deceased father Hugh Nibley made a career out of twisting (and sometimes even fudging) the facts for the Mormon church. In LEAVING THE SAINTS, Beck remembers her child- and young adulthood. One of eight children, Beck and her siblings lived in near-poverty. Though her father was well-respected in Mormon circles, an academic job at Brigham Young University (BYU) is considered "God's work" - and thus is its own reward, with an appropriately paltry salary. Beck married her husband John at a young age (twenty-one - that's old maid in Mormon years!), and the two left Provo so that Beck could attend Harvard, where she eventually earned a PhD in sociology. The two returned to Provo after the birth of their second child, Adam, who has Down Syndrome; Beck felt that her choice to have Adam would be met with greater support in Provo. While living in Provo, Beck finished her thesis at Harvard, gave birth to her third child, and took a part-time teaching job at BYU. Within three years, Beck experienced repressed memories of childhood sexual abuse; soldiered through academic repression and intellectual purges at BYU; and, along with her husband, resigned from BYU, left the Mormon church, and fled from Provo. (Though it's not revealed in LEAVING THE SAINTS, both Mr. and Mrs. Beck later divorced and "came out" as homosexuals.) Beck's most contentious claim is that her father sexually abused her from the ages of five to eight. The feminist in me tends to believe women when they say they were sexually assaulted, abused or raped: the rate of false reports of sexual assault are no higher than that of other crimes; the rates of report, investigation, prosecution and conviction in sexual assault cases are notoriously low, i.e., victims are unlikely to report such crimes and, when they do, the likelihood that they'll find justice is nil; and, finally, such cases are rife with victim-blaming, such that women who report sexual assault are put on trial themselves. Given these circumstances, I find it highly improbable that most women would simply "make up" stories of sexual assault, for whatever reason. However, I also find recovered memories suspect, particularly if they're recovered during psychotherapy. Elsewhere, Beck says that, while she did undergo psychotherapy, this was only after her repressed memories began to resurface. Additionally, physical evidence (including extensive vaginal scarring) does point to past trauma. Beck also claims to have elicited a confession of sorts from her mother when she initially told her of the abuse. Unlike the childhood memories of sexual abuse, it's unlikely that Beck's mind manufactured this memory; so either she's lying or she isn't. Though her mother later recanted, this might be easily explained both by Mor

The book was in good condition. I really liked it and it was hard to put down!

I didn't purchase this book to learn about the issue of child sexual abuse or about the author's coming to terms with incest at the hands of her father, the late Hugh Winder Nibley, an intellectual giant among contemporary Mormon theologians and one of that religion's most revered apologists. Rather, I was following up on an interest in certain of the more esoteric elements of Mormon eschatology. To make a long story short, it was not at all the book that I expected or wanted it to be, but it is surely one of the most powerfully moving works of spirituality that I have read in a very long while. I doubt there will be many readers who will be able to complete this work without shedding a tear: for the barely imaginable pain that the author was put through as a child, for those countless, voiceless innocents similarly violated, for her tortured father and family (the former a likely victim of parental sexual abuse himself) and at Martha Beck's healing: miraculous, heart-warming, funny and determinedly compassionate to all involved in the events. There are no villains in "Leaving the Saints" save for one: the all-enveloping miasma of censorship, fear, physical and spiritual abuse, dissimulation and duplicity that are the hallmarks of a patriarchal, authoritarian, pathologicaly controlling creed convinced of its own sanctity, and willing to stop at nothing (even the lives and minds of its own children) to protect near-medieval privileges in its central Utah fiefdom. When as a Harvard doctoral candidate Martha Beck's son Adam was born with Down's syndrome, she and her husband left Massachusetts for the support afforded her in Utah, her family's home, and the warm, accepting embrace of the Mormon community. Determined to assimilate back into her childhood faith after years of atheism, Martha's disenchantment resurfaced when censorship from church authorities heavily influenced the exercise of academic freedom at Brigham Young University where she taught part-time. More disturbing was her recovery of long-suppressed childhood memories that her father, a (perhaps it would be more correct to say, "the") intellectual center of gravity in the Mormon Church, had sexually molested her as a child. "Leaving the Saints" describes in great detail how institutionalized religion can do horrific injury to some adherents while still being a force of good for others. It will undoubtedly anger faithful Mormons, satisfy disaffected former Mormons and offer hope for healing to those who believe they have suffered from ecclesiastically-tolerated (or in some cases ecclesiastically-sponsored) abuse. It is one of the most balanced books on Mormonism I have read, avoiding the formulaic condemnations of those injured by the faith and the blind, almost decerebrate, acceptance of Church teaching that is the hallmark of official LDS publications. For all its grim, sometimes tragic, subject matter, this is not a book that leaves one sad. Rather, it is uplifting and fil

I thoroughly enjoyed this book. The author captures so much of the craziness that occurs in fervently religious communities and societies in a most entertaining, yet very insightful way. Whether it's the day-to-day social mores, or the dogmatic religious ideas, or the subtle nuances of the interactions throughout her journey, she depicts it all in a most eerily accurate manner. As one who went through his own transition out of a very traditional, dogmatic, and insular society, I found her depictions uncannily similar to my own, even though I came from a totally different religious society than she had (Orthodox Judaism). Her struggle to reinvent her relationship with her god, her family, and her faith, without losing any of them entirely, were challenges I could relate to quite well.

By the top of page 4, I knew who Martha is and who her father was. I was raised in the church and served a mission to Japan in the late 1970s with one of Martha's brothers. Martha's book is the most honest and even-handed account of the church and its doctrinal dilemmas I have ever come across. Most accounts are either for or against the church and seek only to destroy other viewpoints. I didn't get that feeling from Martha's account at all. It's clear that most of those condemning this book haven't read it. Ignore them and read it yourself. I grew up reading every LDS Church book I could get my hands on. I pored over them, practically memorized some of them, and read the Book of Mormon and other scriptures daily and prayed with all my heart. I was the kid who always loved to go to church; no one had to drag me there. After a great deal of soul-searching over many years, I left the LDS church about 20 years ago, at the age of 27. I didn't experience the kind of sexual abuse Martha went through, and my heart goes out to all who have suffered so, but I could relate 100% to her descriptions of the Church, the doctrines, the good people who try so hard to be perfect, the yearning for God, the incredible mental efforts to try to make sense out of the nonsense, the secrecy and obsession with control of the leadership. I'll never forget how disappointed I felt when I first put on the temple garments and went through the endowment ceremony at the Oakland Temple. I first became aware of certain issues about unsavory behavior by some of the leadership while on my mission, and it left a terrible taste in my mouth. I know we are all human and have weaknesses, but the problem is when religious institutions try to set up some people as infallible and not to be questioned (the Pope, the mullahs and ayatollahs, and the General Authorities all come to mind). I tried to make it all make sense, and I tried to forget that polygamy was the fate that awaits good Mormon women. I tried to forget the many little insults and debasements of Mormon women. Ultimately I could not ignore the evidence of my senses, my reasoning and my conscience. The greatest lessons that I learned from my years in the Church are ultimately what led me away: to listen to the still, small voice inside, to do what I knew was right no matter what others around me might say, and to open my heart and mind to unsuspected sources of joy and understanding. I can't say I've found as much certainty as Martha seems to have found, but I am certain that one of the smartest things I ever did was to leave the Church; I only wish I'd done it sooner. Much, much sooner. Martha's book has helped me to free myself from the last vestiges of regret. I miss the sense of community, yes, but I know that the Church is not the only place that can be found. I've read some of the hate mail Martha has received on her site, www.leavingthesaints.com, and it doesn't reflect well on those people's personal religion. That i