Stand ye in holy places: place and identity in contemporary Mormon meetinghouses

Latter-Day Saint ward meetinghouses have been designed to emphasize certain spatial mythologies of the Church in order to encourage a distinct(ly Mormon) sense of place. The meanings interpreted in these places inform member relationships both within Mormon culture and across societal cultures. Furthermore, these texts inadvertently tell the global story of "circulation, consumption and communication" which are key features of what anthropologist Marc Augé calls "non-places" (vii). This thesis explores the tensions that exist in the stories told through contemporary meetinghouses and which inform Mormon religious and cultural practices. In order to explore these tensions, I engage in close readings of significant Mormon religious texts and the Mormon built environment. I also draw from ethnographic fieldwork performed at an LDS meetinghouse in Utah. Through this mixed-methods approach, I hope to explore the role of LDS architectural practices on the cultural identities and understandings of active LDS practitioners.

"STAND YE IN HOLY PLACES": PLACE AND IDENTITY IN CONTEMPORARY MORMON MEETINGHOUSES by Ruedigar Paul Matthes A thesis submitted to the faculty of The University of Utah in partial fulfillment of the requirements for the degree of Master of Science in Environmental Humanities College of Humanities The University of Utah August 2016 Copyright © Ruedigar Paul Matthes 2016 All Rights Reserved The University of Utah Graduate School STATEMENT OF THESIS APPROVAL The thesis of Ruedigar Paul Matthes has been approved by the following supervisory committee members: Danielle Endres , Chair May 18, 2016 Date Approved Robert S. Tatum , Member May 18, 2016 Date Approved Thomas Carter , Member May 18, 2016 Date Approved and by Jeffrey McCarthy , Chair/Dean of the Department/College/School of Environmental Humanities and by David B. Kieda, Dean of The Graduate School. ABSTRACT Latter-Day Saint ward meetinghouses have been designed to emphasize certain spatial mythologies of the Church in order to encourage a distinct(ly Mormon) sense of place. The meanings interpreted in these places inform member relationships both within Mormon culture and across societal cultures. Furthermore, these texts inadvertently tell the global story of "circulation, consumption and communication" which are key features of what anthropologist Marc Augé calls "non-places" (vii). This thesis explores the tensions that exist in the stories told through contemporary meetinghouses and which inform Mormon religious and cultural practices. In order to explore these tensions, I engage in close readings of significant Mormon religious texts and the Mormon built environment. I also draw from ethnographic fieldwork performed at an LDS meetinghouse in Utah. Through this mixed-methods approach, I hope to explore the role of LDS architectural practices on the cultural identities and understandings of active LDS practitioners. For Angela. Wherefore, stand ye in holy places, and be not moved, until the day of the Lord come; for behold, it cometh quickly, saith the Lord. Amen. -Doctrine and Covenants 87.8 CONTENTS ABSTRACT ....................................................................................................................... iii LIST OF FIGURES ......................................................................................................... viii ACKNOWLEDGMENTS ................................................................................................. ix CHAPTERS 1. ENTERING THE HOUSE OF GOD: AN INTRODUCTION......................................1 Entering the Places of Mormonism................................................................................1 Entering a Place: A Theoretical Framework for 5 Entering the Conversation: A Review of Literature ......................................................9 Entering the Ward: Research Methods for Exploring Mormon Place .........................13 Entering the Ward Meetinghouse: Moving Forward ...................................................16 Notes ............................................................................................................................18 2. "IN THE WORLD BUT NOT OF THE WORLD": PLACE-ING AND THE CREATION OF MORMON NON-PLACE ......................................................................20 Introduction ..................................................................................................................20 "The Same Yesterday, Today, and Forever": A History of Mormon Non-Place........26 "A Resting Place for the Weary Traveler": Familiarity, Travelers, and Non-Place....3737 "Our Appearance Identifies Us": Place-ing Mormon Non-Places ..............................50 Conclusion ...................................................................................................................56 Notes ............................................................................................................................58 3. "COME OUT OF THE WORLD INTO THE CHURCH": SPATIAL MYTHOLOGIES, SENSE OF PLACE, AND MORMON IDENTITY IN WARD ....................................................................62 Introduction ..................................................................................................................62 Mormon Spatial Mythologies and Identity ..................................................................66 Fortifying the City: Appropriateness, Standards, and Implications .............................75 Staying by the Tree: Centrality, Sense of Place, and Identity .....................................85 Investigating Mormon Place.............. MEETINGHOUSES...................................... Conclusion ...................................................................................................................89 Notes ............................................................................................................................92 4. "IN THE WORLD BUT NOT OF THE WORLD" REVISITED: TENSION, PECULIARITY, AND THE DESIRE TO FIT IN ............................................................95 Introduction ..................................................................................................................95 Historical Tensions ......................................................................................................98 Material Manifestations .............................................................................................100 Tension in Practice .....................................................................................................106 Conclusion .................................................................................................................128 Notes ..........................................................................................................................129 5. LIGHT, SHADOWS, AND TRANSGRESSION: AN IN(CON)CLUSION............133 Light and Shadow ......................................................................................................133 Transgression .............................................................................................................139 Multiplicity ................................................................................................................141 Inconclusion ...............................................................................................................142 Notes ..........................................................................................................................144 WORKS CITED ..............................................................................................................146 vii LIST OF FIGURES 1 Missionary Plaque . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 34 2 Wasatch Building . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 40 3 Heritage 09T Floor Plan . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 44 4 Chaos & Calm, Justin Wheatley . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 83 ACKNOWLEDGMENTS I am indebted to the help, support, and guidance I have received from my chair, Danielle Endres, whose feedback and mentorship has been invaluable. I also acknowledge the support that Terry Tempest and Brooke Williams have offered me as I have explored difficult topics regarding my own faith and what it means to create change. Brett Clark offered a place to explore the ideas for this thesis in their infancy. And I certainly could not have done this without the generous support of Jeff McCarthy, who encouraged and guided me when I needed it. And while my mentors have been crucial, I could not have done this work without a cohort of dear friends that have made this exploration memorable. Carissa, Carl, Claire, Jack, Jen, Nicole, and Sarah pushed me places I could not have gone otherwise. I love and admire them. I would also like to thank the members of the ward that I observed. They not only allowed me to attend with them, but truly welcomed me into their fold. Without them, this work would have been flat and incomplete. And lastly, I want to thank William Attwood-Charles. Without our conversations on the streets of Boston, this thesis would never have happened. Thank you. CHAPTER 1 ENTERING THE HOUSE OF GOD: AN INTRODUCTION Entering the Places of Mormonism Mythologies are systems of beliefs and (hi)stories that inform practice in place and empower individuals and communities to (re)create relationships, understandings, and the(ir) world. For members of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints (LDS), Mormons, these mythologies rely heavily on spatial symbolism. This spatial symbolism is used to create a distinction between righteousness and wickedness and is often presented as dichotomous pairings of geographically distinct locations: Zion/Babylon or Nephite land/Lamanite land, for example. Mormon spatial mythologies manifest in the contemporary practices of LDS Church members and the LDS Church administration. This is especially clear in the practice of ward meetinghouse design and construction. The ward meetinghouse is a building used for local, weekly worship services in which congregations of members (wards) meet together to participate in the ordinance of the sacrament and to worship and learn together. These buildings hold special significance in Mormon worship because they are viewed as "House[s] of God" ("Steeple" 40) and are "dedicated to the Lord as sacred space[s]" (Christofferson n.p.). In other words, they are places set aside from the secular world wherein individuals may come to better know God through ritual practices and congregational interactions. Because ward buildings are sacred places, places to better know God, and places 2 to unite with other individuals, they are places of great importance in Mormon belief. The importance of these buildings is also evinced by the fact that members are encouraged to attend three-hour worship services held in these buildings each Sunday. While three hours each week does not seem like much, "the places where we spend our time affect the people we are and can become" (Hiss xi), especially when those places are wedded to symbolisms and mythologies that inform practices. This is because places are socially constructed and both inform and are informed by user practices. Following from this concept of place, ward meetinghouses influence the people that worship in them. This influence is, perhaps, more acute because these places hold special significance in Mormon culture due to their sacredness. Their significance is further enhanced by the spatial symbolism with which Mormons describe their mythologies. This symbolism tends toward a dualistic spatiality (e.g., Zion/Babylon), which is enacted through the practice of mythology. In the performance of this mythology, Mormons create refuges of righteousness (Zion) amidst the secular wickedness of Babylon in their ward meetinghouses. As historian Douglas Alder describes, the ward building is "where saints [Mormon practitioners] gather for reinforcement in their combat against secularism" (65). In viewing ward buildings as sites of Zion (a place of righteousness) amid a sea of Babylon (a place of wickedness), I seek to understand how these buildings, these sacred places, act upon the people who use them and how individual and congregational practices rearrange the meanings of these places. More specifically, I seek to expand theory to aid in understanding place-creation, especially in regards to sites interpreted by users as sacred. In order to answer these questions, however, it is essential to first explore the constructed meanings within these buildings and how those constructs encourage 3 distinct(ly) Mormon behaviors in place. In this project I refer to the constructed meanings of ward buildings as "official" or "encouraged" meanings since these meetinghouses engender specific and intended sense of place. This specific sense of place is ascribed to ward buildings through place-ing strategies employed by Church officials and administrators. These official meanings are not the only meanings present, however, and it is the adoption of both official and unofficial practices and meanings that expose a series of interconnected tensions found in the contemporary architectural, cultural, and theological practices of the LDS Church. Furthermore, while individual practices reflect back on meanings in place, the architectural and design elements of the buildings provide insight into theological and mythological principles surrounding individual and group identity. Exploring both practices and meanings, I grapple with four distinct, yet interlaced, tensions that exist within those meanings. The tensions I bring to light and which are woven throughout this thesis and are ever-present in ward buildings, are: 1) the coexistence of the administrative strategy of place-ing and the member tactic of placemaking in the creation of meetinghouse sense of place, 2) the simultaneity of sacred place and non-place within ward buildings, 3) sacred, spatial mythologies and their relation to embodied and emplaced practices, and 4) the boundary between Zion and Babylon, righteousness and wickedness. Within this web of tensions, local congregations and members exist and practice their faith. In navigating these tensions, members work to create sites that are individually meaningful and create place from non-place, using both official and unofficial means to do so. While navigating these tensions, however, members interact with ward meetinghouses that serve to both enhance and erase 4 particular elements of individual and group identity and act as tools of cultural hegemony that enforce ideas of appropriateness. Despite the controlling influence these buildings exert upon members, however, members are always capable of transgressing the official sense(s) of place of these buildings, though such transgressions are not necessarily common and may contribute to other forms of control within the buildings. Thus, I examine both how ward buildings inform the members who use them regarding appropriate cultural norms and how members' responses to official meanings allows for new understanding of the place of the ward building, including the creation of alternative places and meanings within the building. In order to do so, I interrogate moments of perceived tension between belief sets as well as between belief and practice through close readings of significant texts, architectural drawings, and the Wasatch building in Utah.1 Furthermore, I draw from fieldnotes taken during my time observing the Wasatch Front ward, which meets in the Wasatch building, and information gathered through email interviews in order to highlight themes and patterns of practice. I wish to also suggest that the spatial mythologies of the LDS church are, of themselves, environments. I opened this introduction by stating that mythologies are systems of beliefs and (hi)stories that inform practice in place and empower individuals and communities to (re)create relationships, understandings, and the(ir) world. I could also have said that mythologies are environments made up of beliefs and (hi)stories. These mythologies, while active participants in identity creation, are much like physical environments and require navigation. These mythologies, then, are ecosystems and landscapes-not landscapes in the art history sense, but landscapes to be interacted with. 5 These mythological environments, I suggest, play an active role in an individual's understanding of the world. This is further compounded by the argument that in the contemporary moment, the human environment is increasingly becoming an environment of non-places. This is problematic because, as Henri Lefebvre has argued, space (or place) is at once "a product to be used, to be consumed" and "a means of production" (85, emphasis original). In light of the recent proliferation of non-places, Lefebvre's words pose questions about what these non-places are producing. In a world of strip malls, expressways, and chain restaurants-in a world of non-places-it becomes essential to understand how meanings can still be and are created in place. By focusing on the built environment of the LDS Church, I explore the placemaking that occurs in non-place, and I do so through exploring where humans are situated in the space between non-place and mythologies. Entering a Place: A Theoretical Framework for Investigating Mormon Place Space and Place In order to explore the role that LDS meetinghouses have on the formation of identity and culture within the Mormon Church, I follow Henri Lefebvre's and Michel de Certeau's arguments that space (and place) is socially constructed and capable of social (re)construction. I combine these social-constructionist arguments with the argument that places (as opposed to spaces) are sites of meaning (Tuan, Relph, Casey, Stegner). I trouble this notion, however, by borrowing Marc Augé's concept of non-places (viii) in order to more fully explore the role that ward meetinghouses have in the lives of practicing Latter-day Saints. In order to explore the meanings (and nonmeanings) of LDS 6 ward buildings, I employ sense of place, especially following Gillian Rose's argument that sense of place can foster an us/them, insider/outsider, mentality (99), which Edward Relph calls a "poisoned sense of place" (222). In addition to Rose's troubling of sense of place, I explore Timothy Creswell's definition of place as "neither totally material nor completely mental," especially his suggestion that "[A church] is neither just a particular material artifact, nor just a set of religious ideas; it is always both" (In Place 13) in order to explore how ward buildings function as places. I follow Creswell further in arguing that "place reproduces the beliefs that produce it in a way that makes them appear natural, self-evident, and commonsense" (16) through their "active participa[tion] in our understanding of what is good, just, and appropriate" (16). Using this line of thought, I suggest that the LDS Church utilizes meanings in place in order encourage approved and appropriate practices and behaviors in its members, which practices are seen as natural and common-sense. I term this place-ing, which I explore fully in Chapter 2. Place-ing is a means of dictating sense of place through the governance of practices in place. And while place-ing is a top-down strategy employed by the LDS Church in order to maintain control over its buildings (and, by extension, the people who worship in those buildings), it is not the only method of creating meaning within ward buildings. Rather, I show that members use the practice of placemaking as defined by Lynda Schneekloth and Robert Shibley in their book Placemaking: The Art and Practice of Building Communities to generate meaning in place. For Schneekloth and Shibley, "[p]lacemaking is the way all of us human beings transform the places in which we find ourselves into places in which we live" (1) by "stress[ing] the importance of creating a dialogue wherein groups of people can affirm, 7 interrogate, and construct the knowledge they need to make and maintain their own place" (6). This dialogic engagement in place stresses the importance of community and multiple knowledges and is a bottom-up practice of creating place.2 Such placemaking practices can be both in line with officially sanctioned meanings and transgressive of those meanings. In exploring such placemaking practices, I borrow from de Certeau whose definition of tactics (xix, 30), when paired with his and Lefebvre's ideas of socially constructed space, offer LDS practitioners the power to (re)create their places of worship to more closely meet their needs. Such tactics, while possibly reinforcing official meanings, can also be transgressive and do not "rest on the intentions of actors but on results" (In Place 23, emphasis original) It is integral to keep in mind that transgressive placemaking happens in response to what I have earlier referred to as the strategy of place-ing. Both placemaking and place-ing are practices of designating meanings to a place. Henri Lefebvre sees the creation and/or ascription of meaning as important and discusses such meaning-filled sites as spaces. He argues that "[s]pace considered in isolation is an empty abstraction" (12) and, therefore, that it ought to be discussed in its relation to society and culture. Space, for Lefebvre, is where social practices occur (14). Michel de Certeau accompanies Lefebvre in the idea of space as necessarily social, but adds that place is an instant or a freeze-frame in time (a word before it is spoken)-which coincides with Yi-Fu Tuan's argument that "place [is] a pause" (179)-while "space is a practiced place" (de Certeau 117). For both Lefebvre and de Certeau social practices are at once formed by and capable of forming space. While Lefebvre and de Certeau tend to consider space as meaningful, many other 8 theorists and writers, and especially those within the environmental humanities, refer to such meaning-filled sites as places (Berry, Casey, Cresswell, Relph, Seamon, Stegner, Tuan, etc.). Because of the primacy given to place in environmental humanities literature, I, too, use the term place when referring to sites of meaning; however, my definition is also informed by the definitions granted to space by Lefebvre and de Certeau, suggesting that it is social practices that create and ascribe meaning to location and that these meanings are not flat or uniform, but heterogeneous. Acknowledging the meaning(s) that exist in a place is referred to as a sense of place. This sense of place is vital, for authors like Wendell Berry and Wallace Stegner, in understanding the self. Sense of place has been used, in tandem with the concept of place as meaningful, to advocate for preservation. This is evidenced in works like Aldo Leopold's A Sand County Almanac, Edward Abbey's Desert Solitaire, and Terry Tempest Williams' Red among others. In works such as these, the authors explicate and argue for their own sense(s) of place in hopes of preserving the places that serve as their subjects. While this mode of thought is popular in preservationist/conservationist discourse, Gillian Rose argues that sense of place can also lead to exclusionary practices, which may lead to injustices (99). While I find sense of place a useful concept in preservationist discourse, I, along with Rose, acknowledge its limits and, therefore, argue for a more inclusive conception of place. I acknowledge the tensions extant in the phrase sense of place, and I explore how these tensions are manifest within both official and unofficial senses of place within ward buildings. 9 Entering the Conversation: A Review of Literature For Mormon practitioners, ward meetinghouses are seen as "House[s] of God" ("Steeple" 40) and are "dedicated to the Lord as sacred space[s]" (Christofferson n.p.). The sacredness of the meetinghouse is evidenced by the practice of religious rituals such as the offering of prayers, the singing of hymns, and the administration of the sacrament ordinance (Hartley n.p.). Because of the meaning that is created through social interaction, these meetinghouses are embodiments of Mormon faith (Starrs 324), which are invested with Mormon beliefs (ibid. 325). Because of the meaning ascribed to these sites, theorists concerned with space and place would term ward meetinghouses places (Tuan, Relph, Cresswell). However, little work has been done to address the spatiality of LDS meetinghouses and mythologies. And while theorists of space and place have not focused on LDS sites and practices, Mormon studies scholars have neglected to bring the concepts of space and place to bear in their discussions of LDS practices. This project hopes to make interventions into the fields of critical space studies and Mormon studies, addressing the lacunae that exist in each. While this project cannot hope to fill the gaps completely, it is my hope that such an intervention will call attention to the current lack in scholarship and prompt further research in these fields. Theorists of space and place have often focused their attention on cities (Harvey, Soja, Lefebvre, Massey, etc.). Others have spent time focusing on sites devoid of relationship and identity, such as convenience stores, airports, highways (Augé), while even others have looked at homes (Tuan, hooks). While Mircea Eliade has written about the creation of sacred space, he speaks to sacred sites generally. More recently Mormon studies scholar Douglas Davies has written about place and sense of self among Latter-10 day Saints, but his discussion tends more toward time than place in the role of identity creation. Furthermore, his discussion neglects the sacredness of built structures. Others have written about the creation of a distinct architectural style within the Mormon Church (Carter 209; Seymour n.p.; Meinig 49; Kimball n.p.), which served as a visual signifier of what Mormons call Zion: a city of God (Shipps qtd. in Meinig 49; Hymns 44), and served to create a Mormon cultural region (Meinig 33). This region is defined as much by spatial symbology as it is by visual signifiers. Zion is set apart from Babylon in Mormon discourse. Thus, the language and the architecture of Mormonism work to create an interior and an exterior, a center and a periphery. This is achieved visually through the standard plan architecture that is the contemporary practice of the Church building department (Seymour n.p.). Others, such as Martha Sonntag Bradley have been critical of the standard plan architectural style, but have neglected the role of space and place in such discussions. Bradley argues that in giving primacy to function rather than form in building design, the Church has fostered a tendency toward movement-through (which, as mentioned above, would mean that buildings were spaces or non-places, rather than places), rather than meditation within, meetinghouses ("Steeple" 48). For Bradley, then, there is a loss of meaning in contemporary ward meetinghouses. This argument is echoed in Mark Leone's "Why the Coalville Tabernacle had to be Razed," in which he suggests that the symbolism, history, and meaning found in older, nineteenth and early twentieth century, meetinghouses needed to be replaced by ahistorical buildings devoid of meaning and symbolism in order to facilitate the rapid growth of the Church (Leone 38). While there are oblique references and possible inferences regarding the spatial nature of these 11 practices, explicit reference to the nature of space and place is absent from such discussions. Ethan Yorgason, a geographer and Mormon studies scholar, has written extensively about the creation of a regional identity and draws heavily on spatial theory. His discussion tends to be regionally based rather than based in architectural design and practices. Similarly, Richard Francaviglia, a historical geographer, has written extensively about city-making and the use of maps in Mormonism. Architectural historian Thomas Carter has also written extensively regarding Mormon space, but his focus, too, is at the regional or city level. And while he uses individual buildings in creating his argument, his treatment of ward meetinghouses is but one piece in a larger story that also includes homes, temples, and commercial buildings. Furthermore, Carter's discussion deals mostly with nineteenth and early twentieth century meetinghouses, while I am looking at these meetinghouses in the contemporary moment. And while my focus is on a crisis in Mormon architecture, I acknowledge that the LDS Church is not alone. Other writers and scholars are currently lamenting the movement away from sacred architectures within Christian religious traditions. Massimiliano Fuksas, an Italian architect, suggests that there is no sacred architecture anymore, but that architecture can lead toward spirituality. For Fuksas this is accomplished through distinction: spiritually-focused buildings ought to be distinct from other buildings (in Lang 45). Architect Mario Botta, however, sees architecture as sacred through its ability to transcend its function, resulting in an architecture that connects the user to recollections or experiences that are not immediately perceptible (in Lang 47). Uwe Michael Lang suggests that the loss of sacredness in architecture has arisen, in part, 12 through changes in theological currents rather than mere stylistic preference (58). Urban analyst Aaron M. Renn agrees that theology influences architectural practice in his discussion of protestant church buildings. In his analysis, Renn points to various components-an eschatology that encourages ephemerality and cultural adaptations such as rationality and consumerism, among others-that desacralize protestant sites of worship ("Erasing Distinction" 19-21). Elsewhere, Renn suggests that suburban spaces lack sacredness for many of the same reasons that protestant church buildings do-lack of transcendence, focuses on commercial establishments, and shifts in faith that lead to religion(s) being able to "inspire good works, but not great ones" (Renn, "Suburbs and Sacred Spaces" n.p.). Other critics of contemporary Christian, especially protestant, architecture comment on the horizontality of design that de-emphasizes the connection to heaven (Loveland and Wheeler 239), and the lack of distinct architecture, which causes church buildings to be confused with office buildings, strip malls, and warehouses (239-40) While I build from the historical and regional arguments of Mormon studies scholars in order to explore the decisions and mythologies that have led to contemporary building practices, I focus on contemporary meetinghouses in particular, and hope to fit my argument into a larger conversation regarding sacred architectures. Following in the path that has been opened by scholars like those mentioned above, I hope to embark in a slightly new direction that will open up new avenues for exploring geographic and environmental Mormon studies. 13 Entering the Ward: Research Methods for Exploring Mormon Place In order to better understand how LDS meetinghouses act upon the people who use them and how the users coconstruct the place(s) of these meetinghouses through both appropriate and transgressive practices, I engage multiple research methods. I begin by engaging in close readings and textual analysis of significant Mormon texts in order to better understand the spatial mythology of the LDS church. These texts include selections from the Mormon scriptural canon, which includes the Book of Mormon, The Holy Bible, The Doctrine and Covenants, and The Pearl of Great Price, along with historical and contemporary teachings from LDS Church leaders. Through such readings I gain insight into the spatial symbolism of the mythologies of the church and I articulate potential sites that might serve as points of intervention into current practices. Furthermore, I engage with historical moments during the initial years of the Church as well as policy changes through time that have led to the contemporary moment, especially regarding building policy. By analyzing scriptural and other significant Mormon texts and historical moments together, I link history and scripture in order to inform the concept of LDS spatial mythology that runs throughout this project. Beyond analysis of these textual and historical moments, I also draw on fieldnotes (Emerson, Fretz, and Shaw), recordings, and interview transcripts performed during my time as a participant-observer (Lindlof and Taylor; Lofland and Lofland) in a ward in near Salt Lake City, Utah. I engaged in this ethnographic fieldwork between October 2015 and March 2016, spending roughly 30 hours attending worship services and other activities in the Wasatch building. During my time in the field, I recorded field jottings that were then transformed into 79 pages of fieldnotes and analyzed for themes. 14 I also conducted email interviews with 11 members form one ward that uses the Wasatch building for worship services. Email is a useful medium for interviews because it allows shy people to participate who may not otherwise participate in a face-to-face or phone interview (Meho 1288), it facilitates disclosure of personal information because participants feel more anonymous (1289), and participants often maintain greater focus on the questions, providing responses that are more reflective than in other interview formats (1291). Furthermore, email interviews require little editing before being analyzed and allow for asynchronous interview times, allowing participants to respond at their convenience, and allowing me to interview multiple individuals simultaneously (1288). Analysis of these interviews helped elucidate practices, meanings, and members' sense of place within the ward buildings. I chose the Wasatch building in Utah as a site of study in part because of its proximity to the center of the Mormon Church. The LDS Church is headquartered in Salt Lake City, Utah, and the Wasatch building is roughly 17 miles from Church headquarters. Like many areas in Utah, the Wasatch Front has a large LDS population and, therefore exhibits certain cultural artifacts that exist due to the concentration of Mormon practitioners in the area. Due to high concentration of LDS Church members, LDS meetinghouses exist in high concentration as well. Such a high concentration of LDS meetinghouses creates a distinct and visually demarcated cultural region. Because of its position near the center (and headquarters) of the Mormon Church, the Wasatch building presents fertile ground for the study of Mormon culture, identity, and how these meetinghouses influence members. Furthermore, the area surrounding the Wasatch building is comprised of both 15 semirural and suburban neighborhoods, and is in the process of developing. The suburban character of the location is typical of many locations throughout Utah and is representative of areas along Utah's Wasatch Front, which extends through Utah, Salt Lake, and Davis counties and is dominated by sprawling housing developments and strip-malls. Because the area is in the process of shifting from semirural to suburban neighborhoods, new developments are cropping up, which brings in new residents. With the influx of new residents, more ward buildings need to be constructed to house them. The Wasatch building is one such ward building. The Wasatch building has been chosen in part because of its age. Built in 2010, the Wasatch building is representative of contemporary building practices in many ways. Being recently constructed, the ward building is designed following standard plans that are still in use. Currently the Church builds two styles of buildings: Independence and Heritage styles, which can be adjusted based on congregational needs (size of congregation). The Wasatch building is a Heritage style building. Thus, it is representative of other buildings built around the same time as well as newer buildings that are continuing to be built. There is a caveat to this typicality, however. While the building follows a standard layout design, it was also part of a "green" building pilot program initiated by the LDS Church in 2010. Because of this, it is somewhat atypical in that it houses rooftop solar panels. And while other "green" design elements are featured, most are hidden behind the walls, away from sight. Thus, while the solar panels serve to differentiate this building from other ward buildings built around the same time, it is still quite representative of design features. 16 I acknowledge here my own subject position as a practicing member of the LDS Church. Having practiced since my childhood and having lived in Salt Lake City all but two years of my life, which were spent in Thailand as an LDS missionary, I understand that I take certain ideas, knowledges, and practices for granted. I acknowledge my position because I understand my subject position is necessarily biased for and against certain readings of LDS practice. Being an insider I am aware that certain practices pass me by unnoticed while others stand out more completely. I am, thus, in a peculiar position as I attempt to be both inside and outside at once. However, I feel that my subject position as an insider to the culture affords me valuable insights into the functioning of LDS culture in Utah as well as insights into the religious practices that exist. Throughout this project, however, I am self-reflexive in order to maintain an appropriate distance from the work, so as not to cloud my research with preexisting biases or merely anecdotal life experiences. I must proceed with caution. Entering the Ward Meetinghouse: Moving Forward Moving forward cautiously is important here, not only because of my subject position as an active participant in the Mormon church-not only because I am as steeped in the spatial mythologies and cultural practices as the other practitioners that I engage with-but because I am balancing on a precarious line between two seemingly opposite poles. On the one hand, I am arguing that Mormon ward buildings are non-places devoid of the meanings and emotional connections that so many theorists see as essential to the concept of place. On the other hand, I am arguing that ward buildings are highly significant places in the Mormon mind: houses of God, sacred sites of worship, spiritual refuges in a wicked world. It is between these two that I stand balancing. 17 Yet, some might argue, I am oversimplifying. I am reverting to the very dichotomies that I find problematic. True, I am oversimplifying. True, I have reverted to dichotomous pairings. True, this is problematic. And that is the point. While my analysis seeks to develop two conflicting arguments in an attempt to reconcile them, it also points to the problems endemic to such attempts at reconciliation. The fact that the ward building is at once a non-place and a religiously significant place is problematic. In the chapters that follow I explore the inconsistencies within these buildings and point to practices that such inconsistencies engender, including transgressive practices. In doing so I argue that while contemporary building practices result in the proliferation of Mormon non-places, the practices that these non-places produce serve to designate ward buildings as distinct(ly) Mormon places, which have their basis in closely held mythologies. These mythologies, in turn, inform the building practices of the Church. Furthermore, these mythologies have empowered individuals and congregations within the Mormon church to (re)create their relationships with and understandings of the world, and in so doing have allowed them to reimagine the(ir) world after their own image. In Chapter 2, I explore Augé's concept of non-place and introduce place-ing as a strategy of control over sense of place in order to establish my premise that ward buildings are, indeed, non-places, or that they exhibit strong non-place character. I explore some of the historical moments that influenced the shift from idiosyncratic to standardized building plans in order to substantiate my premise. I also explore how intentional design practices encourage strange(r)ness within ward buildings and congregations, which aligns with the idea of ward building as non-place. In Chapter 3, however, I argue against the idea that ward buildings are non-places 18 through an exploration of spatial mythologies that create a distinctly Mormon sense of place within ward buildings. Such sense of place, I argue, is arrived at through place-ing strategies of the Church in order to create and maintain borders around contemporary Zion. I explore both spatial mythologies and contemporary practices such as standards of appearance in order to explore how mythology and policy inform contemporary identity within ward buildings. Having argued that ward buildings are both non-places and places of great significance in Chapters 2 and 3, I turn, in Chapter 4, to the tension that these dialectical meanings exhibit within the building and how such tension influences lived practice. I explore how the tension of being "in the world but not of the world" (Cook n.p.) manifests historically, materially, and socially through everyday practices within the Mormon church generally and the Mormon ward building in particular. Finally, I conclude by stepping back and looking at ideas of light and shadow, transgression, and multiplicity in order to suggest possible futures for LDS practitioners and the LDS Church generally. And while Chapter 5 concludes this project, it is in no way conclusive. Rather, I suggest possibilities, rather than actualities, and leave the creation of place to those whose place it is. Notes 1 In order to maintain participant anonymity, I have removed any site-specific names and affixed pseudonyms to the ward building and the ward congregation. 2 According to a list complied by the Project for Public Spaces, placemaking is: "Community-driven", "Adaptable", "Context Specific", "Collaborative", and "Sociable" (PPS n.p.). The community-driven aspect of placemaking is echoed by others as well (Mazumdar and Mazumdar; Friedmann). John Friedmann has argued that in order for placemaking to occur "planners need directly to engage those who reside in neighborhoods, and that this engagement means to establish a moral relation" that accepts as given the users' right to the place or site in question (159). Another important aspect 19 regarding placemaking is found in Friedmann's words: scale. While it has been suggested that placemaking can be adapted to any scale (Aravot 202), it is uncommon to hear of placemaking at the building scale. What is used instead is architecture or design. Thus, I use placemaking to suggest a bottom-up approach that attempts to involve networks of stakeholders in order to meet the needs and desires of local community/ies (Peirce, Martin & Murphy 55). CHAPTER 2 "IN THE WORLD BUT NOT OF THE WORLD": PLACE-ING AND THE CREATION OF MORMON NON-PLACE Introduction In the introduction to his book In Place / Out of Place: Geography, Ideology, and Transgression, Tim Cresswell argues that "expectations about behavior in place are important components in the construction, maintenance, and evolution of ideological values" (4). What Cresswell refers to as ideologies, Edward Relph calls "hopes, accomplishments, ambiguities, and even horrors of existence" (208) which rest between "objectively shared properties of environments and subjectively idiosyncratic experiences of them" (211). It is in understanding these expectations, hopes, accomplishments, ambiguities, and fears that sense of place is formed. Because sense of place emerges from between the objective and subjective realities, sense of place is understood both individually and socially "as a way of indicating that places are infused with meaning and feeling" (Rose 88-9). In short, sense of place is a way of understanding individual and social meanings in place. The meanings of a place, however, may be emotionally barren. In other words, places may be devoid of emotional meanings and connections such as the hopes, accomplishments, ambiguities, and horrors that Relph suggests help define "place" as a concept. Furthermore, places may lack what Cresswell would call ideological values. 21 This lack of emotional and value-based meanings in a location, transforms some sites into what Marc Augé calls "non-places" (viii). In his book Non-Places: An Introduction to Supermodernity, Augé argues that "a space which cannot be defined as relational, or historical, or concerned with identity will be a non-place" (63). Instead, non-places are "spaces of circulation, consumption, and communication" (viii), spaces where the individual does not exist in relation to history or identity. This dissociation with history translates into a dissociation with hopes, accomplishments, ambiguities, and horrors-all of which necessitate the existence of both a past and a future. Being devoid of what may be referred to as traditional or emotional meanings, however, does not make these non-places meaningless. Rather, non-places have particular meanings as sites of "circulation, consumption and communication" (viii). They are sites defined by a present, "surrendered to solitary individuality, to the fleeting, the temporary and ephemeral" (63) that "often puts the individual in contact only with another image of himself" (64). In other words, in non-places, individuals cease to exist in relation to other individuals or other historical moments. Rather, they merely exist. They are merely there. Nevertheless, as Augé points out, "there are no ‘non-places' in the absolute sense of the term" (viii), suggesting that all non-places are, to some extent, places and vice-versa and, therefore, are associated with sense of place. For Augé non-places are locations to be moved through rather than stayed in. They are sites of anonymity in part due to their ubiquity. They are expressways and shopping malls, airports, and hotel chains. Because non-places are everywhere, they do not belong anywhere. They are for passing through (59)-the "traveler's space" (70)-and present themselves as both the space and the instructions for the use of the space 22 (xvii) to everyone simultaneously (81), creating a feeling of anonymity and solitude in the user(s) of the non-place (86). In order to obtain this anonymity and solitude, however, non-places require users to provide proof of their innocence (82) or belonging. For Augé, proving belonging is accomplished through showing a passport or a credit card (82): it is a hyper-individualization. This proof of hyper-individuality then allows the user to enter into anonymity. And in the anonymity of non-place, recognition prevails over knowledge: non-places are not known, they are recognized (27), they become generally familiar. Augé's definition of non-place, suggests places that are anonymous in their familiarity. Because they are so ubiquitous, they are seen but not known. Often non-places exist beyond the realm of personal attachment or personal meaning. They are simply there. Nevertheless, this perpetual being there, along with the other non-place characters, creates a sense of place, or a sense of non-place. And these sense(s) of non-place are not in opposition to other sense(s) of place that may exist in a location, but in dialectical tension with other meanings. In other words, a sense of non-place and a sense of place may exist simultaneously but be understood separately. This is evident in roadside memorials. While the road may act as a non-place-a place to pass through on the way from here to there-for most drivers, it also holds specific memories of an individual or individuals who lost their lives at that particular location. In this way, the road is at once significant and insignificant, memorable and easily forgotten. While non-place characteristics and sense of place can coexist simultaneously at a site, and while there are places in which meanings are created unintentionally (e.g., roadside memorials), there are also instances in which a specific, desired, sense of place 23 is prescribed to a location, and certain expectations or standards of behavior are put in place in order to maintain that sense of place. Such a sense of place may be a based on class or racial distinctions and reinforced by practices such as denying service to particular individuals. Or this sense of place may be based on consumerist ideals and create, to some degree, non-places from places, such as the paving of roads in (which encourages the driving of cars through) National Parks, creating (non)places to be seen from cars, recognized, and passed through.1 The act of prescribing and maintaining specific sense of place is what I will refer to as place-ing. Place-ing is a strategy of control that establishes a desired sense of place through the enforcement of specific practices, which, in turn, perpetuate and reinforce the established sense of place. As I suggested earlier, place and non-place can exist together, and place-ing can contribute to both the creation of place and the creation of non-place. In defining place-ing, I am mindful of the socially-constructed nature of place, but I also wish to suggest the relation between power and place. Place-ing is a means of creating (sense of) place in a dictatorial manner by filling a location with certain characteristics, practices, and/or people. It is an example of what Michel de Certeau calls strategies, which are "calculations (or manipulations) of power" (35) and are "an effort [made by those in power] to delimit one's own place in a world bewitched by the invisible powers of the other" (36), that focuses especially on the creation of (sense of) place. In other words, place-ing is a top-down strategy of power and control that prescribes behaviors in place and reinforces a desired sense(s) of place. There are some who would argue that place-ing is no different than placemaking. And, indeed, they do share similarities. I would argue, however, that while place-ing is a 24 top down strategy of control, placemaking is a bottom up means of creating place. This is because placemaking has, at its core, the idea of community (Schneekloth and Shibley; PPS; Mazumdar and Mazumdar; Friedman). Placemaking is a practice that asks communities to determine how they want their place to be. It is a means of re-claiming the right to the city, of reimagining and recreating place according to the needs and desires of the people who use the place (Harvey 4). While placemaking, in its current practical usage, attempts to involve networks of stakeholders in order to meet the needs and desires of local community/ies (Peirce, Martin & Murphy 55), place-ing is a top-down approach aimed at dictating to, not engaging with, the occupants or users of the place. And it is this dictatorial approach that illuminates the power relations of and in place.2 Place-ing, then, is more than just architecture or design; it is a means of creating and policing a specific and intended sense of place. While it has been argued that most of a place's meaning (and, therefore, most of its sense of place) comes from those who use it (Rapoport 20), "through personalization-through taking possession, completing [the structure], changing it" (21), place-ing works to limit the personalization of place, thereby enforcing a particular meaning. Through such place-ing, the LDS Church creates a desired sense of place in its meetinghouses. A similar use of place-ing can be seen in the design practices of Starbucks, through which its stores are filled with a "limited range of colours, furniture, light fixtures, murals and artwork" in order to create a sense of place (Aiello and Dickinson 304). Another example of place-ing is apparent in the expulsion of eleven women from a Napa Valley Wine Train for "laughing while black." Management and 25 staff created a space for white bodies, and found the "quite loud and boisterous" laughter of the black women inappropriate and offensive. In order to maintain the train's sense of place, the women needed to be removed (Neate n.p.). As these examples show, place-ing is a top-down means of dictating, maintaining, and reinforcing a dominant sense of place. In confronting the question of whether and how (sense of) place is created from non-place within LDS ward meetinghouses, I must first substantiate my premise that ward buildings can be interpreted as non-places. As mentioned in the introduction to this thesis, ward buildings are geographically established sites of congregation for LDS practitioners. Despite the specific geographies of ward buildings, however, contemporary meetinghouses are "in the world but not of the world" (Cook n.p.). In other words, contemporary ward buildings are in locations, but not of them; rather, they are standardized buildings that can (and do) exist anyplace. It is in part this lack of site specificity that contributes to the non-place character of ward buildings. However, to suggest that generality is the only contributor would be to grossly oversimplify the concept of non-place and how I employ it in relation to contemporary Mormon ward meetinghouses. In arguing that LDS ward meetinghouses are non-places, I will discuss the history of Mormon architecture and its relation to the concept of Zion-building, which is the LDS practice of creating a community of the righteous in preparation for the second coming of Christ. This will lead me into a discussion of the movement toward standard-plan architecture, which is the current practice for designing and constructing meetinghouses of the LDS Church. My discussion of standard-plan architecture will lead to an analysis of architectural drawings as well as an analysis of policies regarding design, construction, 26 and maintenance of buildings. In my discussion of standard-plan architecture, I argue that the LDS Church has created suburban, everyday buildings that act as non-places and undermine the sacredness of its meetinghouses. Furthermore, I suggest that ward buildings qualify as non-places through intentionally prescribed and clearly defined ideas of appropriateness, which govern both the materiality of ward buildings and the corporeality of ward members' bodies and practices within ward buildings. This intentionality in design and maintenance is an instance of place-ing, and is a strategy of control enacted by the LDS Church. Ideas of appropriateness ascribed in ward buildings through place-ing contribute to the sense of (non)place within LDS meetinghouses and, as I will show, allow LDS practitioners to prove their innocence3 (Augé 82)-their righteousness and their belonging-as they commute toward the kingdom of God. "The Same Yesterday, Today, and Forever": A History of Mormon Non-Place The writer of the American West, Wallace Stegner, wrote that "No place is a place until things that have happened in it are remembered in history, ballads, yarns, legends, or monuments" (n.p.). History, according to Stegner, is important to place: it gives place meaning. I posit that history is equally as important to non-place, though in non-places, history is important in its dissociation with meaning-making. While history may be relegated to the shelves of curiosities (Augé 89) in non-places, it is, however, important in understanding how ward buildings came to be standardized, and how this standardization, in turn, led to the proliferation of Mormon non-places. 27 Building Zion In April of 1829-one year before the official organization of the Church-Joseph Smith received a revelation to "bring forth and establish the cause of Zion" (Doctrine & Covenants 6.6). This revelation is one of the earliest of Joseph Smith's canonized revelations, and it has played a significant role throughout the history of the LDS Church. For the early Saints, establishing the cause of Zion meant building the city of Zion. For Mormon practitioners, and especially for the early Saints, Zion is a literal city where "a godly society worthy of Christ at his coming" would reside (Bushman, Mormonism 36). As LDS historian Richard Bushman suggests, Zion was both a "place of refuge from calamity and the place of divine instruction" (45). With the growth of the LDS Church, the concept of Zion has become more symbolic than literal, but, as Bushman argues, "Mormons still think of their congregations as places of peace, equality, and unity, and of themselves as a distinctive people" (48). Because members are encouraged to view these buildings as places of refuge, a distinct sense of place may be fostered within them.4 However, such a zionic sense of place is in dialectical tension with the non-place characteristics of the ward buildings and the sense of non-place that those characteristics engender. In his book The Mapmakers of New Zion, geographer and historian Richard Francaviglia discusses how early Mormons relied on the maps produced by Joseph Smith and Frederick G. Williams (the ideas were Smith's and Williams performed the drafting) to literally build cities of Zion. These maps depicted a square plat that could theoretically be built anywhere and that was suggestive of a "culture of refinement" (Bushman, Refinement 140-69) befitting the city of God. 28 Francaviglia contends, however, that while these square plans may appear perfect or godly on paper, in practice, a grid plan often ends up being in conflict with nature and the geography of a location, "impos[ing] on nature rather than letting nature dictate where a boundary might naturally occur" (28). Despite this conflict with physical geography, a grid-based city allowed central authority to watch over the activities in the city and thus maintain order. Furthermore, rectangular, grid-based cities were quickly and easily built (27-8). By adopting a grid-based design that was not dependent upon location, the early Zion-building projects at once laid the foundation for the standardized architectural plans of the contemporary Church and established a panoptical place that encouraged prescribed standards of behavior and worked to reinforce the intended sense of place in the city of Zion. In other words, the Zion-building of the early Church relied on place-ing in order to create a unique sense of place in early Mormon cities. Because making Zion was making the city of God, and because "God is the same yesterday, today, and forever" (Book of Mormon, Mormon 9.9), the plans for Zion needed to be similarly unchanging. In this way, Zion, like the God whose city it was, was universal. The plat of Zion could be quickly adapted to any location, regardless of actual variations in physical geography and topography. By creating a standard plat, the Church could plant zionic cities across the Midwestern United States, or anywhere else that God deemed suitable (Francaviglia 32). In this way, the city of Zion was in the world but not of the world. Building and gathering (in) Zion was one of the primary preoccupations of the early Church (Carter xx; Francaviglia 31; Underwood 26). Because they lived in Zion, early Mormons were able to prove that they belonged to Zion and God simply by being 29 there5 (Carter 13). Always-already belonging to the kingdom of God meant that the early Saints did not need to explicitly define themselves and could instead express variety within Zion, so long as that variety did not overlap with the world of Babylon (Carter 15). However, around the turn of the twentieth century, the LDS Church reversed its policy on gathering to Utah-the center of God's kingdom on earth-in favor of building Zion where members already lived (Prince and Wright 199). This policy change redefined the concept of Zion. Whereas it had been a geographical region, it was now an abstract spiritual idea. Because of this, new methods of marking the boundary between Zion and Babylon were required. Such a redefinition of Zion contributed to the standardization of Church policies known as the correlation effort. Correlating Zion This correlation effort was a response to unprecedented growth, and was manifest in policies through which programs, lessons, auxiliaries6-along with ward buildings-were increasingly standardized. Its aim was to unify programs, omit redundancies, and streamline the administration of a Church that was rapidly globalizing.7 One of the Church leaders in charge of this correlation effort was Harold B. Lee. Lee argued that through correlation, the Church might "possibly and hopefully look forward to the consolidation and simplification of church curricula, church publications, church buildings, church meetings, and many other important aspects of the Lord's work" (qtd. in Church History 563). In Lee's words can be heard a hopefulness and optimism. For Lee, standardization (in architecture as well as in administration and practice), which results in simplification, would further the Church's mission to establish the kingdom of God on the Earth (Doctrine and Covenants, Explanatory Introduction v). This 30 simplification, however, created a "generalized vocabulary" (Augé 88) for meetinghouse architecture, which "addressed simultaneously and indiscriminately" (81) all members. In other words, through standardizing its meetinghouses, the Church created a shared vocabulary, which "weaves the tissue of habits, educates the gaze, and informs the landscapes" (Augé 87) of Church members and is typical of Augé's definition of non-place. This generalized vocabulary is rephrased by Benedict Anderson as the "accumulating memory of print" (80) and contributes to a sense of community within the LDS church. This accumulated memory of print, this shared architectural vocabulary, allows members to prove that they belong to Zion, thus proving their righteousness or innocence (82), simply by entering into a universalized ward building. Contributing further to this shared sense of belonging to a(n imagined) community is the regular practice of Sunday church attendance.8 Each Sunday a(ny) member "has complete confidence in [all members'] steady, anonymous, simultaneous activity" (B. Anderson 26) at their designated ward building, and belonging to the community of Zion is accomplished. The shared memory of print finds further expression through a standard set of textual works, which are both scriptural and educational. This body of works contains the central tenets of the Mormon faith, and members are encouraged to read these works regularly.9 Through this standardization of printed scriptural texts, any member of a ward can imagine that the other members of the ward (and Church more generally) are sharing in the same experience of reading from the same set of scriptural texts as they are each day. Furthermore, the standardization of curricula means that the same lesson is taught on 31 the same day in all the wards of the Church. Because the experience is replicable (even if imaginatively) the beliefs that arise from such an experience are also replicable, leading to an imagined standardization of beliefs. Thus, the community of Saints is imagined to share uniform beliefs, which crystalize into congregational and individual identity. The Church becomes defined by its shared beliefs, and the individual is defined in relation to these centralized beliefs. To rephrase this point: through the encouragement of standardization by church leadership, the individual, housed within the congregation, finds its identity in relation to the imagined uniformity of the ward (and Church) body; the imagined body of the congregation contains a corpus of standard beliefs, which define the congregation. This imagined congregation is, in turn, housed within the physical body of the ward: the meetinghouse. Building Buildings During the early history of the Mormon Church, the community of worshipers built its meetinghouses and places of worship using their own resources and talents (Starrs 330). Because of this the members of the congregational body were able to inscribe their meetinghouse(s) with distinct characteristics and symbology that allowed for a highly personalized form of worship. The very act of building meetinghouses was viewed as a form of worship, of making an offering to their God, and, therefore, received particular attention to beauty, detail, and craftsmanship (Church History 164). The meetinghouse was a personal spiritual investment and was invested with personal and symbolic meaning.10 Many of the older meetinghouses in Utah retain the symbols of the past. This, 32 however, can be problematic for Church leadership because, according to Augé, "allusion to the past complicates the present" (56) and, according to Mark Leone, "[a]rtifacts of the past symbolize attitudes and behavior of the past. Symbols motivate behavior. Therefore, the artifacts (symbols) of the past may conflict with and even impede new and different behavior" (31). If symbols of the past encourage behaviors and beliefs that do not correspond with current practices, these symbols may hinder the progress of the Church and must be abolished. Thus, buildings that were designed and created as gifts to God may both misrepresent contemporary Mormons and remind them "every day of all that they [are] not, and all they [have] stopped being" (ibid. 32). While the early church members designed and built their own meetinghouses, their contribution was diminished over time in favor of centralized and standardized planning and building.11 Martha Bradley's words summarize this shift well: The bond between the nineteenth century Saint and his chapel was intimate and complete. He helped build it, his wife helped furnish it and they both contributed to its upkeep. The modern-day Mormon chapel was not built by the congregation but by a building contractor and the chapel itself would probably in ten or twenty years be used by a different group altogether. (qtd. in Starrs 330) And while members did help in some aspect of the completion of the ward building until the 1970s, their efforts were put toward "[t]hings that require[d] labor, not skill, care, not craftsmanship" (Leone 37). In these efforts interchangeability was favored over personality because anyone could help paint a building, while only a few could carve a pulpit. This subtle shift away from skill and craft and toward standardization signaled a shift away from meaning and history.12 An example of this shift away from history is evidenced in the transition from 33 meaning-inscribed craftsmanship found in older ward buildings to the ward display case located in the lobby or foyer outside the chapel. These display cases have been used to exhibit everything from basketball trophies to missionary plaques (Leone 37). As Leone further suggests, the meanings evoked by these memorabilia are not specific to the ward building; rather, the meanings are linked to the "movable objects that are universally recognized tokens" (37). Due to the transience and universality of these tokens, no lasting or specific symbolism is held within the building. Leone further suggests that while "[h]uman energy and emotions are tied up in a Mormon building today…they are not tied up in ways that are visible, immovable parts of the building" (37). Instead meanings and emotions are tied up in the temporality of tokens such as missionary plaques (Figure 1), which carry the (much abridged) history of the ward for no more than two years before they are replaced by the next wave of plaques. Such symbols may hold strong meanings for members, but those meanings are soon displaced and replaced. Missionary plaques present a poignant example of the exoticization of history that Augé describes as characteristic of non-places (89). Because full-time missionary work is a key rite of passage for young men (and increasingly for young women) into adulthood, the plaque carries significant symbolic weight. Each plaque represents an individual who is traversing the path toward adulthood, often in a foreign, "exotic" land. For members of the ward, the plaque represents the stories about the young missionary's efforts at bringing others into the Church. While away from home, these missionaries are fetishized: they are prayed for, stories of their successes are shared, letters are written to them. They are central to the meaning of the ward: the missionary's successes are the ward's successes. Upon the missionary's return, however, the plaque is removed and 34 Figure 1. Missionary plaque. © Ruedigar Paul Matthes. 35 another one takes its place. The missionary's centrality to the meaning of the ward, like the plaque, is easily replaced, exchanged for new plaques, new people, and new meanings. That such meanings can be so easily replaced signifies a tension between place and non-place that is evident in the missionary plaque example. Because each plaque represents a physical person, it represents a series of "hopes, accomplishments…and even horrors" (Relph 208) regarding the person pictured and contributes to the meaning of a place. While these plaques may contribute emotional meaning to the ward building, the plaque is also merely a token devoid of any lasting meaning because it is replaceable and interchangeable. It does not matter which plaque is on display but that a plaque is on display. The meaning is not derived from the specific individual represented, but the idea represented. In this sense, the missionary plaque symbolizes an abstract concept, which is more important than the individual (hopes, accomplishments, etc.) because, while the person may be replaced, the concept is unchangeable. The tension between sense of place and non-place expressed in the missionary plaque is further evidenced in the concept of shared vocabulary. While the correlation effort standardized curricula in efforts to unify an increasingly global and diverse Church, I wish to suggest that the standardization of built texts also contributed to this shared sense of community and (non-)place in ward meetinghouses. Through this shared vocabulary, the Church was able to: "offer a clear identity and distinction to its followers" (Meinig 40). This identity was informed by the belief that they were a peculiar people, a people chosen of God, a people who, like the plat of Zion and like the standardized ward buildings, were in the world but not of the world (Joseph Fielding36 Smith 241). One of the implications of standard-plan architecture-as well as, and in combination with, standardization of curricula and administration-as opposed to local or regional specificity, was that the Church began to "fabricate the ‘average man', defined as the user" of the ward building (Augé 81): the ward member. Buildings were no longer designed and built for (and by) specific users, but for any Mormon member. Because of this fabricated universalization, the Church was able to produce a shared identity for all members. By relying on the standardized plans for meetinghouses, the Church began to distinguish itself from the larger world and create a distinct identity for itself. According to Jan Shipps: The very fact that these clearly identifiable LDS structures could be found in town after town, and suburb after suburb cultivated among the Saints what might be called a Zionic sense, making the very LDS meetinghouses themselves agents of assimilation and signals that wherever the Saints gather, there Zion is. (qtd. in Meinig 49) Through standardization the ward meetinghouse became part of a "cosmology that produces the effects of recognition" (Augé 86): ward buildings became recognized symbols of Mormonism, symbols of Zion, and home. To use the words of one Mormon, "Coming upon a Mormon meetinghouse in a strange town is like finding your favorite food franchise when you are travelling. Once you've located the church and Colonel Sanders it's as if you never left home" (qtd. in Leone 38). This sense of home is one "paradox of non-place" suggested by Augé. This paradox is that "a foreigner lost in a country he does not know (a ‘passing stranger') can feel at home there only in the anonymity of motorways, service stations, big stores or hotel chains" (86). I add to this list LDS ward meetinghouses. Like familiar hotel chains, restaurants, or big-box stores, LDS ward buildings engender a familiarity that is anything but familiar. Rather, the 37 relationship of the foreigner or the stranger to the building and its congregation are not relationships of knowledge, but of recognition (27, 86); they are relationships of anonymity. Furthermore, that this feeling of home could be felt anywhere in the world where a ward meetinghouse was located emphasizes the "generic and place-unspecific" (Starrs 336) nature of the standard-plan meetinghouses. By erasing the symbols of the past and of the place and replacing them with a new, easily accessible symbology, the Church created an intentionally neutral (read: non-specific) building (Leone 37-8) empty of particular and local meaning other than the blanket meaning of Mormonism, which was not fixed or permanent, but changeable and adaptable. The meetinghouse that once stood as a symbol of individual and collective sacrifice and expression was replaced with a functional building devoid of any explicit connection to the individual or the location. The shift from custom-built meetinghouses to standard plans, then, moved church architecture, and specifically the ward building into the realm of similitude: the realm of non-place (83). "A Resting Place for the Weary Traveler": Familiarity, Travelers, and Non-Place The standardization that contributed to the non-place character of ward buildings is enhanced by the architectural and design choices that enter into the standard plans of the LDS Church. These standard plans suburbanized (P. Anderson 476-7) and subsequently diluted the sacredness within ward meetinghouses as the everyday and the ecclesiastical were seamlessly merged through architecture and design elements. The merging of the sacred and the secular is evident in Thomas Carter's treatment of Mormon settlements in the Sanpete valley of Utah. Carter suggests that, while the LDS Church 38 began planning, designing, and building according to a worldview that privileged the sacred, over time secularization entered into planning and designing, and the paradigmatic worldview shifted. In other words, sacredness was shifted from the center to the periphery in order to accommodate changing cultural landscapes (xxix-xxx). This shift in cultural landscapes that privileged the secular over the sacred could also be understood in a shift in cultural trajectory, rather than a shift in the center itself. In building his argument for non-places, Marc Augé describes such a shift using French towns and autoroutes as his object. He suggests that while autoroutes used to pass through the centers of towns, they now circumvent town centers (in favor of more direct and expeditious routes). The centers of these towns, once discoverable by drivers, are now merely alluded to through text and images on billboards. The place was replaced by representation, and the town became no more significant than the text used to describe it (78). Meanings became prescribed, not discovered. Places became recognized (by a name or an alluded-to landmark), not known, from the non-places of transit. Like the French autoroutes that moved out of town centers, LDS ward buildings have been designed in a way that circumvents the sacred center in favor of the secular everyday. By circumventing the sacred, the Church redefined the sacred as ephemeral, like the missionary plaques and photographs of the Church's first presidency that hang on the walls, as something to be recognized. In other words, contemporary design practices absolve worshipers "of the need to stop or even look" (78) at the sacred because the sacred is presented to them in the quotidian design. As with other non-places, it is enough to recognize the meanings (i.e., sacredness) to which ward buildings allude. Evidence of such secularization of space is found in an address by D. Todd 39 Christofferson, a member of the quorum of twelve apostles, given to LDS youth in 2006. In his address, Christofferson bemoans the increasingly casual appearance of LDS churchgoers. He begins by recounting the story of a young woman who moved into a new ward congregation. While on her first Sunday she dressed in a manner that gave the "impression of youthful grace," she felt over-dressed. In time, she became more casual in her appearance, fitting in with the other young women in the ward (n.p.). Christofferson remarks, "casual dress at holy places and events…says ‘I don't get it. I don't understand the difference between the sacred and the profane'" (n.p.). While I agree with his assertion that appearance can express (mis)understanding, I argue that there is more to the story than an individual's understanding of a place and its significance. In order to have an understanding (or sense) of a place, there first needs to be a place. Ward buildings, however, embody both the sacred and the profane, troubling Christofferson's argument and Mircea Eliade's suggestion that "spatial nonhomogeneity finds expression in the experience of an opposition between space that is sacred…and all other space" (20). Rather than being sites of singular meaning, then, LDS ward buildings are sites of mixed and diluted meanings. This creates a tension in Christofferson's claims that "meetinghouses are dedicated to the Lord as sacred space" and that "A sense of the sacred should lead us to act and speak with reverence in and around these buildings. It would lead us to dress a certain way when we are there" (n.p.). Ward meetinghouses, according to LDS leadership, are sacred sites worthy of respect. And yet these buildings are also social and athletic sites. While ward buildings are used for worship and sacred ordinances on Sunday, they are used for dinners, dances, athletic events, and other activities during the week.13 Thus, while on Sundays the buildings are used for sacred 40 purposes, the other six days of the week are dedicated to appropriate secular activities.14 Because ward buildings not only contain, but mix, both sacred and profane, the space of the ward building is homogenized. This aligns with Paul Anderson's assertion that ward buildings are designed with a suburban modernism (476-7), suggesting that contemporary ward buildings are not aesthetically differentiated from the suburban homes and strip malls that surround them. This homogenization through suburbanization makes one sense of place (be it of an office complex, strip mall, or ward building) indistinguishable from the next, creating placeless and anonymous non-places. Evidence of this suburban homogeneity is the Wasatch Building in Utah where I performed my fieldwork (Figure 2). The Wasatch building is a red brick building with bands of local stone around the base of the piers (Nexus 201). Viewing the building from the sidewalk that parallels the street to the west of the building, one is greeted by a verdant lawn, not unlike the lawns of the houses in the surrounding neighborhoods, Figure 2. Wasatch Building. © Ruedigar Paul Matthes. 41 before seeing a rock and native plant garden that abuts the building itself. The building is flanked by two large parking lots that are connected behind the building. A sign reads: "The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints Visitors Welcome." Unlike Catholic cathedrals and many other religious edifices, the ward building is stripped of adornment. In his book Places of Worship: 150 Years of Latter-day Saint Architecture, architect Richard Jackson suggests that the LDS Church has "no tradition of monumental buildings for meetinghouses" (ix). Rather, the Church has followed the traditions of other Protestant sects and used nonecclesiastical and quite secular building designs (Sovik 21), following the idea that "[t]he presence of God is not assured by things or symbols or by buildings, but by Christian people" (33) and that the meetinghouse "is an empty vessel, a tent, filled and activated only by the worshipping assembly" (Kieckheffer 240). Furthermore, in line with certain strains of architectural thought that suggest that meetinghouses should fit in with, not stand apart from, the larger world because distinctive architecture separates the building from the world it is meant to inspire (271), ward buildings are designed according to "fine residential or light commercial design modes" (Jackson ix) and suburban modernism (P. Anderson 476-7).15 This secular design is evident in the Wasatch building. The red brick and local stone front is topped by a simple white steeple with a faux-window. This is, perhaps, the only feature of the building that is suggestive of a religious purpose. On the street-facing side of the building, there are no points of entry. Rather, the entrances are on the sides and rear of the building-sides which do not allude to the sacred as does the front-and meant to be accessed from the parking lot(s). Thus, congregants and worshipers are required to enter the building from the secular space of the parking lot through uninspired 42 entrances with no allusion to sacredness. Like the driver on the non-place of French autoroutes who sees references to cities without entering them, the Mormon practitioner is presented with an allusion of sacredness in the steeple, but asked to pass by and move through the secular and mundane non-place of the parking lot and the doors that greet it. This movement from the road to the parking lot to the vestibule of the ward building works together with the suburban modernism of the ward building to blur the distinction between the sacred and the profane. Rather than creating nonhomogenous space, the ward building reinforces the homogeneity of suburban place and the anonymity of non-place. This homogeneity troubles Eliade's claim that thresholds are sites of transition between distinct types of space. For Eliade, the threshold marks a distinction between the sacred and the profane, and yet provides a site of communication between the two worlds (25). A parishioner, upon passing over the threshold of a church, understands that s/he is passing between worlds. S/he is able to leave the profane at the door and enter into the sanctuary of the church, the house of God. While the threshold of the Wasatch building may be attempting to create a distinction between worlds, no such distinction is apparent. Rather, the glass doors and the vestibules enter into a carpeted foyer with couches, end-tables, and mass-produced art prints ordered from a catalog (Handbook 2 192). The entrance is, if anything, underwhelming. Rather than being lifted to a higher spiritual plane, the churchgoer feels as if s/he is entering the waiting room of a Mormon dentist's office: the space of the ward building is not elevated in style. Instead, it is mundane. The dark-colored, industrial-grade carpeting, which is used throughout the building, and heavy-duty floor mats suggest heavy use and worldly materiality, not the ethereality of the sacred. The simple 43 (and mismatched upholstery of) couches and chairs, end-tables, and lamps; the white walls and framed prints of scripture stories, present mass-produced meanings, which, like the buildings themselves, could (and do) exist anywhere. Unlike Eliade's thresholds, then, the thresholds and vestibules of the Wasatch building do not serve as points of transition between distinct spaces. The non-place of the parking lot runs into the non-place of the building's foyer; the secular world of strip malls and office spaces and even the suburban home, is reflected in the building. Thus, the ward building becomes a space of the everyday, and no transition, no adjustment, is needed. As Agué writes, "there are spaces in which the individual feels himself to be a spectator without paying much attention to the spectacle" (70) because the spectacle is no longer spectacular, but ordinary. These sites, in which spectator and spectacle are distanced (74), are non-places. The worshiper, who enters the ward meetinghouse in hopes of experiencing the sacred that should exist in the house of God, is confronted with the neutral and uninspiring façade and features that contribute to the non-place character of the ward building. These everyday and secular aspects of the buildings are further evinced in the material architectural and design elements of the buildings themselves. In an analysis of as-built drawings of the Wasatch Building16 in Utah, it is clear that the sacred and the secular (or the profane) are in tension within the built environment. While the original plats of Zion were drawn in relation to the sacred (temple) center, the Heritage 09T style buildings place the cultural hall-a basketball court-at the center (Figure 3). While this certainly has practical application as overflow seating for the chapel, the placement of the cultural hall suggests a secularization of the ward building. In this way, the architecture 44 itself creates a distraction from the sacredness, which it purportedly encourages. It presents the secular as more important than the sacred while simultaneously arguing the other side as well. The architecture itself, then, is divided. Even if the placement of the cultural hall is viewed as solely pragmatic, the fact that the chapel can, and is supposed to, open into the cultural hall, allowing for greater seating capacity17 suggests a blending of the sacred and the secular and contributes to the non-place character of the meetinghouse. An illustration helps illuminate the tension between the sacred and the profane. Throughout the year, but especially during the winter months, the cultural hall is used for athletic events, especially basketball. During these basketball games, it is not uncommon-though it is discouraged-for participants to become aggravated and utter profanities. Because place is both product and producer (Lefebvre 85), the language used and the behaviors expressed by the participants create Figure 3. Heritage 09T floor plan. © Ruedigar Paul Matthes. 45 the meaning of the cultural hall and it becomes a profane space. The following Sunday, however, that space may be used as an extension of the sacred chapel. Sitting in the overflow seating, it is difficult not to note the basketball standards and the free-throw lines that are permanent fixtures to the room. These material features remind the users of the other, profane, uses for this space, and tension is created. Furthermore, the exchange between the sacred and the profane is bidirectional. While the chapel is meant to extend into the cultural hall, the opposite also occurs. It is standard practice for chapels to be carpeted. This dampens the sound of footsteps, allowing for a quiet reverence to prevail during sacrament meetings. Cultural halls, on the other hand, are primarily basketball courts with hard surfaces.18 When used to increase seating capacity, the cultural hall does not allow for the same quiet reverence of the chapel. Footsteps and the movement of folding chairs are not only audible, but accentuated due to quietness of the chapel. Thus, while the sacredness of the chapel-exhibited through music, talks, and the passing of the sacrament-extends back into the cultural hall, the irreverence of the cultural hall interrupts that quietness, and the sacred is secularized. With this mixing of meaning comes a homogenization of space, which encourages a lack of particular meaning. Rather, the meaning becomes generic and the ward building becomes a mere container, a non-place, wherein certain actions and ideas circulate. Through the combination of ecclesiastical and nonecclesiastical activities that occur in the ward buildings, and through the generic, suburban design elements of the buildings, the LDS Church has created a building that could be-and is-built anywhere. And while the Church's official stance is that "the culture, the surroundings, and the 46 building regulations of a particular area" are taken into account (Seymour 2) when constructing a building, this is troubled by the use of standard plans. Thus, instead of site-specific buildings, regional leaders may decide between one of two standard plans currently used by the Church-Independence and Heritage-when contemplating a new meetinghouse (Meetinghouse Standard Plans n.p.). Regardless of geographical and cultural contexts surrounding a building site, the meetinghouse is designed to have a standard look based on a standard plan (Seymour 1), resulting in a landscape dotted with generic buildings. Such generality of design, such placeless-ness, creates a landscape dotted with non-places. As stated above, these non-places create a generalizable familiarity and allow for easy movement between ward buildings. Furthermore, in creating this generalizable familiarity, in creating this sense of home, the LDS Church has resorted to creating cloned buildings, which are "all much more neutral, much more replaceable" (Leone 38): buildings which can be easily left. In creating universal "homes", the LDS Church has created non-places, for, as Augé writes, non-places are defined by the paradox of feeling at home in anonymous familiarity. According to Augé, to the foreigner or traveler "an oil company logo is a reassuring landmark; among the supermarket shelves he falls with relief on sanitary, household or food products validated by multinational brand names" (86). The traveler feels at home in strange(r)ness through the recognition of token familiarity. Likewise, because of standardized architecture, Mormons across the globe can travel or move and feel "as if [they] never left home" (Leone 38). Just as certain travelers find comfort in the familiar signs of hotel or fast food chains, so Mormons can feel 47 comfort in the familiar buildings that are a sign of the(ir) faith. But in creating this universal home, to modify Augé's argument slightly, the Church created a "world of [standard plan meetinghouse architecture]" in which "people are always, and never, at home" (87), and ward buildings become simultaneously places of significant religious and social meaning(s) and replaceable non-places of "enfeeble[d]" (88) generalities. As mentioned above, the Church's official policy states that "the culture, the surroundings, and the building regulations of a particular area" must be taken into account (Seymour 2) in the construction of new buildings. But how sensitive can universalized standard plans be to local cultures and surroundings? Instead of meaningful sensitivity to place, this policy manifests in gestures such as using local stone at the base of the piers. These gestures suggest site specificity and local character, but "they play no part in any synthesis, they are not integrated with anything" (Augé 88) local or site specific. The generality and the standard plan cannot be hidden behind local stone façades. Rather, as Aiello and Dickinson suggest about Starbucks, "this aesthetic of [local] authenticity relies heavily on symbolic markers of difference while also remaining firmly grounded in an ethos of predictability" (316). Straying too much from the design compromises the effect of familiarity, but failing to incorporate the place into design compromises the relationship to location. And based on the small amount of local stone used to portray locality, it is clear that general familiarity is granted primacy. Promoting familiarity over peculiarity allows members to travel without feeling as though they ever left home. Because of this, standardization encourages mobility. If the Church is the same all over the world, it is not frightening to move, or to travel; indeed, "Mormons pride themselves on feeling at home with other church members anywhere in 48 the world" (Bushman, Mormonism 36). The familiarity of buildings, no doubt, contributes to these feelings. Ward buildings as "[t]he traveler's space may thus be the archetype of non-place" (Augé 70) because they allow the churchgoer, the traveler, to see without knowing. The traveler's experience is superficial-how else could participating in religious services in a foreign language be? The act of going to church, rather than attending at a particular building, creates meaning for the traveler. In the foreign ward, the traveler is anonymous-even if hyper-individualized-to the congregation and thus is offered solitude in anonymity19 (83) and non-place. In anonymity, the traveler sees without knowing because there is no depth to the relationships experienced. Even if the traveler speaks the language of the congregation, the relationships begin with the first meeting and end after the last. The traveler then moves on to the next congregation. The community shared between traveler and congregation is merely imagined (B. Anderson 7). Rather than forming meaningful relationships with other members of the congregation or the place, the traveler consumes the messages shared (even if s/he cannot understand them) and the sacrament. Being sites of consumption further establishes the non-place character of ward buildings (Augé viii). I acknowledge that travelers comprise such a small percentage of total membership at any given time that it is unlikely that the traveler is the primary user of ward meetinghouses. However, I borrow from Martha Bradley to suggest that the traveler is integral to the construction of standard plan meetinghouses. She writes that during the 1980s: "Mormon ecclesiastical structures became the stage for the movement of large numbers of Saints through programs" ("Steeples" 48, my emphasis). The ward building at once facilitates movement through and acts as the ecclesiastical structure referred to. 49 For Bradley, it is individual members that move: they become travelers. Viewing members as travelers requires analysis of the material building. In the Wasatch building, all entryways lead into small foyers, officially referred to as "circulation spaces" (AEC Guidelines 1.14). Despite the open feel of the foyers on the north and south sides of the building, which is created, in part, by tall ceilings, there is little room for individuals to pause. Rather, members are guided directly into the chapel. Furthermore, these foyers, which cannot comfortably accommodate more than a few individuals in a building that might house six hundred worshipers or more at any given time,20 are likely noisy as they are used as areas to take fussy children during sacrament meeting. Because these foyers cannot hope to accommodate even a small fraction of the total users of the building, they serve as spaces to walk through, not stay in. Furthermore, the hallways that run in a "U" shape through the building, linking the foyers (as well as the other rooms), are long and narrow (one inch over seven feet wide) with no areas to sit or congregate. They are not places for lingering, but spaces for transit. And while the chapel has permanent seats and is designed for pausing, these stays, too, are temporary, and they are defined by consumption: the silent majority listens to the speaker(s) at the pulpit. Between moments of consumption, ward members move efficiently through the building. As Bradley articulated, ward buildings are not designed for lingering, but for movement of members. Ward buildings, as non-places, then, are sites of consumption as well as circulation, or movement (Augé viii). 50 "Our Appearance Identifies Us": Place-ing Mormon Non-Places Asserting that ward buildings are designed for member movement suggests both the non-place character of ward buildings and role of members as travelers. As travelers, members are also strangers. And, as travelers and strangers, Mormon members congregate with imagined and anonymous communities (B. Anderson). In the case of the member in a foreign land, the imagined nature of the community that is created is clearly evident. As Georg Simmel has written, the participants feel that what they have in common is so only because it is common to a group, a type, or mankind in general…the commonality becomes attenuated in proportion to the size of the group bearing the same characteristics. The commonality provides a basis for unifying the members, to be sure; but it does not specifically direct these particular persons to one another…To the extent to which the similarities assume a universal nature, the warmth of the connection based on them will acquire an element of coolness, a sense of the contingent nature of precisely this relation-the connecting forces have lost their specific, centripetal character. ("Stranger" 146-7) This general commonality extends to the local traveler as well, who moves through the hallways of the local meetinghouse. If the only commonality is the shared commonality of being Mormon or attending church at a particular ward building, then, while there is a unity in the master status (Freitas et al. 325) of Mormonism, this unity does not necessarily lead to deeper or warmer relationships. Instead, there is a common strange(r)ness to the relationships: a nearness and a farness ("Stranger" 148). Such nearness and farness of relation exists within wards housed within ward meetinghouses and helps define non-place. The nearness comes from a hyper-individualization of identity and highlights the uniqueness of each individual. While all LDS members are hyper-individualized through membership records,21 members are also 51 anonymous. Each time a member changes wards, membership records are requested. These records, like the traveler's passport, both hyper-individualize the member and provide proof of innocence (Augé 82). Yet, once they have entered into the local database, once a ward has their records, members can slip into the obscurity of the other bodies that make up the congregation. Membership records are a good example of Simmel's concept of the stranger. According to Simmel, strangers are defined by their mobility ("Stranger" 145), by the fact that they come and go (and stay). Strangers, as outsiders, however, pose the threat of disorder (Koefoed and Simonsen 345) and must prove their innocence by proving that they belong.22 In the contemporary moment, this is done, in part, through the hyper-individualized membership number. Early Mormons, however, had another mode of proving innocence, which was simply being in Utah. As mentioned earlier, residence in Utah proved an individual's faithfulness to the Church; it proved that they were Mormon. However, as non-Mormon settlers moved into the Mormon cultural region (Meinig 33), that initial claim to innocence lost its potency: merely being in Utah did not qualify an individual as a believer. Thus, new means of proving belonging were required. One way to prove belonging or innocence (Augé 82), was through attending worship services (Carter 238). However, as meetings were consolidated to the current three-hour block, and with the global expansion of the Church, new means of proving belonging have been required to supplement Sunday attendance. One litmus test for belonging is appearance. And these standards of bodily appearance are a strategy of place-ing that at once creates a uniform sense of place23 within the meetinghouses and 52 fosters their non-place character. As described above, place-ing is a top down means of creating (sense of) place by filling a location with certain characteristics, practices, and/or people that reinforce the desired sense of place. For the LDS Church, that desired sense of place is a generalizable city of Zion, which does not confront members in an area away from home or in a new home with anything unfamiliar, disturbing, or jolting (Leone 38). The goal is to make any member comfortable in any building anywhere in the world. Through place-ing, the LDS Church creates a building interior that is as non-specific as is its exterior. While standardized architectural plans for meetinghouse layout contribute, so do standardized policies regarding artwork and decorations. The wall colorings, the carpet, and the furniture are both generic and nondescript. The policy regarding artwork reads: Church-approved artwork for meetinghouses is obtained through the facilities manager using the Church Facilities Artwork catalog. The facilities manager may also obtain artwork that is appropriate for meetinghouses through Church Distribution Services. Pictures and other artwork may be placed in appropriate locations in the meetinghouse…Statues, murals, and mosaics are not authorized. (Handbook 2 21.2.1) In practice this policy results in meetinghouses decorated with mass-produced replicas and LDS stock images, increasing the affect of the other nondescript design elements. It creates interiors that are uniform and that hold no individual or idiosyncratic meaning or character. The creation of non-place character through place-ing is further evident in the words of Church leaders. Dallin H. Oaks, a member of the quorum of twelve apostles, has remarked: "by the manner of our dress and personal grooming, we send off signals to 53 the world around us. Our appearance identifies us with certain manners of behavior and creates expectations in those around us" ("Standards of Dress" n.p.). He continues: the beard and long hair are associated with protest, revolution, and rebellion against authority…Persons who wear beards or long hair, whether they desire it or not, may identify themselves with or emulate and honor…the extreme practices of those who have made slovenly appearance a badge of protest and dissent. (ibid) Similarly, tattoos are discouraged and women are encouraged to wear only one pair of earrings and to dress modestly, "avoid[ing] short shorts and short skirts, shirts that do not cover the stomach, and clothing that does not cover the shoulders or is low-cut in the front or the back" or that is "tight, sheer, or revealing in any other manner"24 ("Dress and Appearance" n.p.). Ward buildings, then, become sites where certain bodies, certain appearances, are privileged and encouraged over others. Such appearances become, like the décor, uniform. This uniform works to flatten differences among members and within ward buildings, creating a sense of non-place that is generic, familiar, and recognizable. Furthermore, standards create clear distinctions between insiders and outsiders, which Gillian Rose argues contributes to the creation of sense of place (99). And while Mormons profess to believe that "it is what's inside a person that counts" (Christofferson n.p.), standardizing external appearance allows Mormon leaders and practitioners to quickly judge "Who's on the Lord's side? Who?" for "Now is the time to show…We serve the living God, / and want his foes to know" (Hymns 260). By standardizing personal appearance, the Church brands its followers, creating and enforcing a distinct sense of place within its meetinghouses. Despite the distinct sense of place that is ascribed to ward meetinghouses, however, the standards that exist within those meetinghouses also promote the non-place 54 character of the buildings because "the user of the non-place [the user of the ward building] is always required to prove his innocence" (Augé 82). Ward buildings function as key sites for this proof of belonging because members meet together each Sunday, dressed in the uniform. If members fail to adhere to standards in appearance, they are clearly marked as different and other. The man who fails to wear a white shirt and the woman who wears a pantsuit are marked as different and pose threats to the order of the ward building. In this way, uniformity is encouraged over individuality because uniformity proves belonging and innocence. But innocence checks are not the only non-place characters that are exhibited through the standardization of appearance. One key aspect of non-place is the idea of individuality through conformity. The user of non-place, once belonging is proved, "becomes no more than what he does or experiences in the role of passenger, customer, or driver. Perhaps he is still weighed down by the previous day's worries, the next day's concerns; but he is distanced from them temporarily by the environment of the moment" (Augé 83). I might also add to Augé's list the role of congregant. In the non-place of ward meetinghouses, individuals become anonymous in their role as worshipers. In this adoption of communal anonymity, a sort of solipsism exists. The individual looks like others and all messages are addressed to an average member (Augé 81). Augé describes this solipsism experienced by the user of non-place: What he is confronted with, finally, is an image of himself, but in truth it is a pretty strange image. The only face to be seen, the only voice to be heard, in the silent dialogue he holds with the landscape-text addressed to him along with others, are his own: the face and voice of a solitude all the more baffling by the fact that it echoes millions of others. The passenger through non-places retrieves his identity only at Customs, at the tollbooth, at the check-out counter. 55 Meanwhile, he obeys the same code as others, receives the same messages, responds to the same entreaties. The space of non-place creates neither singular identity nor relations; only solitude and similitude. (83) Through the standardization of appearances, which engenders a standardization in behaviors, ward congregants are encouraged to look and act in similitude. They are encouraged to be one, and in such an attempt they are confronted with images of themselves, of sameness, and are left alone in solitude. Between standardizing the appearance of both members and meetinghouses, the Church creates a distinct sense of place in its buildings. Furthermore, since, as Cresswell has argued, "place comes to have meaning through our actions in it," which actions are "informed by the always already existing meanings of the place" (In Place 16), the LDS Church sets in motion a self-perpetuating cycle of (re)creation. This act of creating a place that perpetuates and reinforces the (re)creation of a specific sense of place-even if that sense of place is a sense of non-place-is what I call place-ing. By setting standards of dress and appearance, the Church encourages behaviors that reinforce the desired sense of (non)place. By setting standards of appropriate appearance and behavior for bodies in standardized buildings, the Church establishes an environment where borders can easily be policed. Individuals who transgress these standards are out of place (In Place 7): their guilt, rather than their innocence, is proved. In this way, the socially constructed nature of place allows the building to present its "instructions for use" (Augé 77) that enforce standards of behavior and appearance in the practitioners, which, in turn, reinforces the building's sense of (non)place. 56 Conclusion Through standardizing ward meetinghouses, the LDS Church engages in place-ing, which is a strategy of control that creates place and sense of place through the intentional placement of desired characteristics, practices, and people within a space. Because places are socially constructed, the practice of place-ing creates a feedback loop in which practices recreate a place that engenders those same practices. Furthermore, through place-ing the LDS Church transforms its ward meetinghouses into non-places. By creating a sense of place that reinforces borders between insiders and outsiders, the LDS Church requires its adherents to prove their innocence in order to gain admittance into the kingdom of God. Such innocence is proven by conforming to certain standards governing the individual body, by wearing "the uniform of a regiment" (Pocket 66). Once admitted, individuals find solitude in anonymity: sharing only universal commonalities, they are strangers and travelers, moving through ward buildings temporarily before leaving again. While inside, the member consumes both the messages from the pulpit and the sacrament emblems.25 While inside, the member waits until the three-hour block of meetings is over and then returns home. While inside, the member is "relieved of…usual determinants and becomes no more than what s/he does or experiences in the role of" ward member (Augé 83): becoming a generic brother or sister who teaches lessons or sends around the class roll. In short, in the ward building, members become their church callings, which are as non-specific to the individual as the buildings are to their locations. Standard plan ward meetinghouses, which reinforce standards in appearance and 57 behavior, and which are generalizable to the point of being interchangeable, mirror the missionary plaques, which in turn, reflect the members themselves. They come and they go. They are familiarly unfamiliar. They are strangers, unknown but recognized (Koefoed and Simonsen 345). As generically recognizable buildings, ward meetinghouses are filled with non-place character and, having no connection to the specific physical and cultural geographies of a location, are "in the world but not of the world" (Cook n.p.). They are buildings to pass through once each week in transit to God, not places to linger in and commune with God. As Martha Bradley suggests, LDS "architecture reflects an embrace of the earth rather than a preoccupation with the heavens. It has become human-centered. It is spatially the scene for the interaction of the community of Saints rather than the interaction between human beings and God" ("Steeple" 48). Furthermore, due to the place-ing strategies of the Church, meetinghouses are the scene for the interaction of an imaginary community: a community bound by a "common law: do as others do to be yourself" (Augé 85). And while place-ing practices contribute to the non-place character of ward buildings, they also create a distinct sense of place. In the next chapter I will explore the tension between non-place and sense of place further, showing that, despite the non-place character of ward buildings, the leadership of the LDS Church has employed both spatial mythologies and place-ing practices to sustain a narrative that creates specific and self-perpetuating meaning and, therefore, sense of place within the ward buildings. 58 Notes 1 I do not wish to suggest that National Parks are non-places. Rather, I draw from Edward Abbey's musings on the development of Arches National Park in southeastern Utah to suggest that even such iconic places as National Parks can be ascribed non-place character. Abbey suggests that increasing accessibility decreases the sense of place within the park. This transformation from place to non-place, Abbey seems to suggest, is evident in the question "How long's it take to see this place?" (44). For more, see Abbey's "Polemic: Industrial Tourism and the National Parks" in Desert Solitaire. 2 Refer back to Chapter 1 and note 2 for a more complete examination of placemaking. 3 Augé views such proof of innocence as essential to the definition of non-place. While the Mormon church does not fixate on the concept of innocence, per se, it does enforce worthiness. This is evidenced in the temple recommends that are required for entrance into sacred temples and which each member is encouraged to carry. Another example is tithing settlement, which is a yearly opportunity for members to designate to the bishop whether or not they have paid a full tithe. While these settlement meetings are not required, they are strongly encouraged. And while neither of these forms of proving innocence are required for entrance into ward buildings, they are, nevertheless, means of policing standards of appropriateness and are executed within ward buildings. 4 In the next chapter I will explore more fully the official sense of place that exist within ward buildings. 5 I will discuss the need to prove belonging later on when I discuss place-ing and its relation to non-places. 6 I would be remiss not to note that it was during the correlation effort that women in the Church lost much of their autonomy. During the correlation effort, all auxiliaries (Relief Society, Primary, Youth organizations) were brought under the purview of the quorum of twelve apostles. 7 For a more in-depth discussion of LDS Church correlation, see Prince and Wright, Chapter 7. 8 As Augé suggests, a non-place is not just a standardization of architectural details, but also a standardization of practices within the non-place. One fruit of correlation was the consolidated meeting schedule, which was announced and implemented Church-wide in the spring of 1980 ("Church Consolidates" n.p.). This change meant that members would congregate during a 3-hour block of time once a week rather than having multiple meetings throughout the week, making ward buildings, for the most part, Sunday-only buildings. Such a shift helped in the transition to non-places because, as Augé writes, non-places are "measured in units of time" (84). In this case: three hours. Furthermore, the three-hour block introduces a specific temporality to the ward buildings: it creates an itinerary. There are classes, quorum and auxiliary meetings, and sacrament meeting, each with a specific time allotment. When all is done, ward members 59 leave for home, vacating the building. In this way, ward buildings have become sites to move through rather than places to stay. And, as Augé suggests, not only does "non-place creates the shared identity of passengers, customers or Sunday drivers" (81), but it creates the shared identity of Sunday churchgoers and congregants. 9 Not only are members encouraged to read scriptural texts regularly, they are encouraged to "liken the scriptures" to their own lives and circumstances (Book of Mormon, 1 Nephi 19.23-4). This idea will be expounded upon in the next chapter as I explore the spatial mythologies that contribute to sense of place. 10 Chapter 13 in Church History in the Fulness of Times Student Manual recounts that members "were invited to make contributions, and many did so at great personal sacrifice" (163), which included donating china and glassware to be crushed and mixed with the plaster in order to "make the walls glisten" (164). This is just one example of the personal sacrifices that members were willing to make in order to beautify their buildings in order to please God. For more, see Church History in the Fulness of Times Student Manual, chapter 13. 11 The Church Architectural Department began providing standard plans in 1923. However, the Great Depression brought an end to the department. It was revitalized with a new name-the Church Building Committee-in 1955 (P. Anderson 475-6). 12 The shift from unique and carefully crafted buildings toward standardized meetinghouses, which began to take effect in the 1920s but was not fully realized until the 1950s during the David O. McKay administration, helped the Church maintain functionality and cost-effectiveness while accommodating the demands of "growth and the…immediate need to house the members" ("Cloning" 23). In the face of such growth, a lack of formal meetinghouses was highlighted as an impediment to both maintaining and growing the Church (ibid. 199). This need for new chapels was compounded by a decision by J. Reuben Clark to place a moratorium on building new ward buildings the year before President McKay ascended to the presidency. Clark's justification for the moratorium was that "[the Church has] a tendency I think to make our buildings just a little too elaborate and too ornate" (qtd. in Prince and Wright 201). Clark's words hint at Leone's argument that the ornate features-the artifacts and symbols of the past-may inhibit contemporary worship. Such ornate and elaborate craftsmanship, such form, may distract from the building's function, which has dominated LDS building practices since the mid-20th century. All of these factors contributed to McKay's decision to rapidly develop an atrophied building program. The program accelerated so quickly, in fact, that the Church developed significant debts in the process, leading to a reinvigorated tithing policy as well as changes in how funds for ward buildings were obtained. While local congregations had previously been required to contribute thirty percent of construction costs, McKay raised the requirement to forty percent. This, he recorded in his journal, was because "[t]he people need to have higher participation in this so they will be more diligent in participating in maintaining the buildings" (qtd. in Prince and Wright 213). 60 McKay's argument was that increased financial responsibility in meetinghouse construction would lead to an increased sense of ownership among the congregation members. Extending this idea further, increased ownership would lead to increased participation in maintenance. This hypothesis that increased ownership leads to increased participation and increased concern is related to the idea of sense of place. Through an increased sense of ownership, individual congregants were assumed to have greater emotional investment. In other words, the buildings were assumed to mean more to individuals who contributed (more) financially: a sense of place was encouraged through ownership. However, the encouraged sense of place in ward meetinghouses was in tension with changes to the Church building policy that led to standardization of building plans and the development of non-places. During the initial rush to provide buildings for emerging congregations throughout the world, "local architects were often used, buildings were very expensive, and often not as efficient for church needs as a standard plan building would have been" (Prince and Wright 222). As stated earlier, "church needs" were moving toward functionality. Thus, idiosyncratic buildings (that may have been expensive) inhibited the functional needs of a church that was moving increasingly toward standardization, consolidation, and correlation. For a more comprehensive overview of the Church building program during David O. McKay's presidency, see Prince and Wright, David O. McKay and the Rise of Modern Mormonism, 199-226. 13 Official policies regarding building use can be found in Handbook 2: Administering the Church (2010). The introduction to building use policies states, "Church buildings…are to be used for worship, religious instruction, and other Church-related activities" (191). 14 For more on appropriate uses of ward buildings, see Handbook 2: Administering the Church 191-193. 15 For more on the style and theory that informs sacred architecture and design, see E.A. Sovik's Architecture for Worship, Richard Kieckheffer's Theology in Stone, James F. White's Protestant Worship and Church Architecture, and Anne Loveland and Otis Wheeler's From Meetinghouse to Megachurch. 16 The Wasatch building is a "Heritage 09T style D" building. Heritage style buildings appear in A, B, C, and D varieties (Planning Brochure 28). 17 According to the United States & Canada Standard Plans Planning Brochure used by the LDS Church, use of the Cultural Hall more than doubles seating capacity for meetings. While the Chapel (233) and the Rostrum (49) combine for 282 seats, the Cultural Hall allows for up to 379 additional seats (3). 18 This is not universal. There was a period of time when cultural halls were carpeted, likely to allow for sound dampening when used as overflow seating. 19 Any discussion of travel and travelers would be incomplete without a discussion of privilege. This is particularly pertinent to travelers within the LDS Church as certain 61 subject positions have the privilege to travel, while others do not. While it is not my project to discuss privileged and disenfranchised subject positions within the LDS Church, I would be remiss not to draw attention to them, since they have direct bearing on standard plan meetinghouses. I suggest that ward buildings are designed for the traveler, and I wish to clarify. General Authorities (members of the quorums of the seventy, the quorum of the twelve apostles, and the first presidency, along with other general auxiliary presidencies) are tasked with "represent[ing] the prophet to the people" (Packer qtd. in Robbins), and, therefore, travel often. It is important to note that these authorities are overwhelmingly white and male. Perhaps these administrative travelers are the audience for whom the buildings have been designed. 20 The building plans suggest that the Heritage 09T stake centers can accommodate three wards of up to 300 active members each (Planning Brochure 3). On a typical Sunday two wards would overlap meeting times. 21 This hyper-individualization is apparent in membership record numbers. While all members have a membership record number, few members know their own number, let alone the number of others. Thus, the hyper-individualization that comes from the number is undermined by the ignorance to such numbers. 22 Proving belonging affected me personally as I sought permission to perform ethnographic research. While I did not need to transfer my records, I was asked to provide contact information for my local bishop. This, I was told, was so that they could make sure I was a member in good standing and did not have hostile or antagonistic purposes. In other words, they wanted proof that I wasn't a wolf in sheep's clothing. I needed to prove my innocence. 23 I will explore how place-ing contributes to Mormon sense of place more fully in the next chapter. 24 These policies governing appearance express significant gender bias. While it is not my project here, it is worth noting that the majority of "modesty" rhetoric is targeted at women (both within the LDS church in in society as a whole). For more on this see: "Modesty Rhetoric in Church Magazines" (Ziff), "Does Mormon modesty mantra reduce women to sex objects?" (Fletcher-Stack), "Moderating the Mormon Discourse on Modesty" (Finlayson-Fife). 25 The bread and water of the sacrament, which represent Christ's body and blood, respectively. CHAPTER 3 "COME OUT OF THE WORLD INTO THE CHURCH": SPATIAL MYTHOLOGIES, SENSE OF PLACE, AND MORMON IDENTITY IN WARD MEETINGHOUSES Introduction In the previous chapter, I argued that through the practice of place-ing, the LDS Church has constructed a network of non-places throughout the world. While these ward buildings have non-place character, however, they are not devoid of sense of place. Rather, as I have argued, non-place is one type of sense of place. And while the LDS Church has created non-places, they also employ place-ing in order to establish a distinct(ly) LDS sense of place as well as a distinct(ly) LDS sense of self. In this chapter I will expand from Henri Lefebvre's argument that place is both produced and productive (85) by applying it to sense of place. With regards to place, this social constructionist view posits that place is a container for certain social practices, rules, and mores, which are constantly in flux. Because the practices in place are changeable, place is changeable. An example of this changeability of place is seen in the PARKing day movement (Endres, Senda-Cook, and Cozen 121-124). While parking stalls have been ascribed certain meaning (places to park vehicles), which then prescribes certain behaviors (parking vehicles), the meaning can be reinterpreted based on the behaviors in place, such as transforming a parking stall into a yoga class, a mini-golf 63 course, or a library (Inhabit n.p.). Meanings, then, are open to contestation, and places are in reciprocal relationships with the individuals and groups who use them. As a means of production, place informs identity and produces meaning(s) and set(s) of expectations (Cresswell, In Place 3) at both the individual and the communal levels because the meanings held in place are both personal and shared. In both cases, these meanings are understood through sense of place, which Edward Relph argues is "an innate faculty, possessed in some degree by everyone, that connects us to the world" (208). Through sense of place, individuals and groups interpret the meanings of the places they occupy and form identities, in part, based on those meanings. In this way, sense of place creates identities based upon the meanings it offers. Sense of place can also be altered by the identities that ascribe meaning(s) to place. Furthermore, architectural structures can contribute to the creation of both sense of place and identity (Adebayo, et al. 170) because they may contain histories and hopes (173) as well as symbologies and traditions (171), and because the built environment is where humans spend much of their time. Building from this idea, I employ sense of place in order to further interrogate the built environment, specifically the ward meetinghouses, of the LDS Church, and its contribution to administrative place-ing as well identity formation and placemaking at both the individual and the community levels. Gillian Rose suggests that sense of place is a complicated phrase with a multitude of meanings. While I acknowledge the complexity of the phrase, I wish to combine, at the risk of simplification, two aspects that Rose explores: sense of place in relation both to structures of power and to the politics of identity. In her discussion Rose argues that sense of place is "part of our cultural interpretation of the world around us," which 64 includes an awareness of difference(s) that inform feelings of belonging and not-belonging (99). Sense of place, she continues, can be used to create insiders and outsiders by creating boundaries founded on difference, which at once exposes structures of power and informs identity. Through this differentiation, certain senses of place are granted primacy over others, and outsiders are viewed as an "Other" against whom insiders measure their identities (and power). Through the creation of an "Other," insiders can regulate the meaning of a place (103), reinforcing the "appropriate" sense of place. Because meanings can be regulated, ward buildings, as places where the righteous may gather, become, as a forgotten Mormon author suggests, "the building blocks of Mormon faith" (qtd. in Starrs 330) and are used to create shared identity through practices in them. Ward buildings serve as building blocks of faith because they are regularly used as sites of spiritual and social congregation. During the three-hour block of meetings each Sunday, ward members worship God, learn from historical and contemporary Church leaders and texts, and participate in the sacred ritual ordinance of the sacrament. As mentioned earlier, however, not all uses of the building are of a spiritual nature. Perhaps because of this multiplicity of uses, perhaps in spite of it,