SECTION I
THE AARONIC PRIESTHOOD
CHAPTER 1
Therefore, blessed are they who humble themselves without being compelled to be humble; or rather, in other words, blessed is he that believeth in the word of God, and is baptized without stubbornness of heart, yea, without being brought to know the words, or even compelled to know, before they will believe. -Book of Mormon, Alma 32: 16
Most Mormon children enjoy the homogenous lifestyle afforded to them by their years of systematic brainwashing. They take comfort in the fact that they have ready-made answers to all of life’s big questions provided to them by their cultish church leaders and devoted families. Occasionally, some children challenge the premise of Joseph Smith’s gospel teachings and actively resist the stifling of individualism from the Mormon Church. I was of this latter disposition.
The majority of youngsters who grow up within the Mormon Church approach their eighth birthday with a sense of glee and excitement. These are the good kids. To little heathen bastards like myself, reaching the eight-year old milestone of life was not perceived as an opportunity for personal growth, but rather as a restriction to curtail future pleasures. The significance of turning eight-years old within the Mormon religion is centered upon the fact that this is the earliest age that someone can be baptized into church membership. And, for any child growing up within the faith, being immediately baptized on their eighth birthday is an unavoidable, traditional rite of development.
There were two benefits of not being a bona fide member of the Mormon Church that I relished in when I was younger. Firstly, because I had not yet reached the “age of accountability,” all of the dirt that I did before I was eight-years old could not be held against me for time and all eternity. This literally meant that I could do whatever the hell I wished, commit any sort of abomination that struck my fancy, and then have my slate wiped clean once I was baptized. Thus, I did not have to worry about petty inconveniences such as being sent to outer darkness for, say, stuffing a firecracker up a cat’s rectum and causing it to suffer a horrible death from internal bleeding. Secondly, because I was not yet a member of the Church, I did not have to take part in Fast Sunday each month and was allowed to eat breakfast while everyone else in my family had to starve. Both of these nonmember amenities were permanently obliterated once I was baptized.
Only previously ordained members of the Aaronic Priesthood may perform the baptism ceremony. For those children who are raised within a Mormon family, the candidate’s father, or occasionally an older brother, typically performs the dunking routine. My father had baptized my two older brothers, so he followed suit by conducting the ceremony with me.
When my eighth birthday finally arrived and it came time for me to become a genuine member of the Mormon Church, I went through the baptism ceremony as a brainwashed automaton. I did not fully understand the religious significance of the event, only that I would no longer be able to eat Cheerios on Fast Sunday morning. The ceremony took place within the local meetinghouse that was used for our Church ward. Within this meetinghouse, a built-in font was furnished inside an observation room, where friends and family members of the candidates for baptism would typically attend to watch the event. On the day that I was baptized, there were several other child candidates who were also scheduled to take part in baptism ceremonies of their own. The many family members who attended this multiple baptism made for a healthy crowd inside the observation room.
After I dressed into the stark white baptismal attire that was loaned to me for the occasion, I stayed inside a bathroom area that was provided just behind the baptismal font. Once the font was filled to capacity with warm water, I was called to step down inside the deep bathtub where I waded through the waist-deep liquid toward my father, who was found waiting for me in the middle. Taking up both my wrists in his left hand, my father raised his right arm to a square and announced the baptismal prayer: “David Michael Albertson, having been commissioned of Jesus Christ, I baptize you in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Amen.”
As soon as the prayer was uttered, my father lowered his right arm to the base of my head and then tilted me backward, completely submerging my body into the waters of the baptismal font. A moment later, I was raised from the soul-cleansing waters to my feet. I looked around myself, anticipating a feeling of cleanliness or divine bliss to come upon me. No such feeling occurred. Instead, one of the witnesses for the baptism, who was also standing in the baptismal font with my father, waded over to my father’s side and whispered into his ear. After the witness returned to his post, my father spoke out to the family onlookers within the elevated observation area. “I apologize,” he said, “I’m doing several baptisms today for some converts into the ward and I got the boys’ names mixed up.”
Confused, I looked to my father.
“I got your name wrong, son,” he said to me. “We’re going to have to do this again.”
Then it occurred to me. My name was not David Michael Albertson. Surely this was the cause behind my not feeling the overwhelming joy that was to supposedly accompany my baptism. The baptismal ceremony had to be repeated.
Upon the second time that my father uttered the words of the baptismal prayer, he got my name perfect. He then dunked me into the baptismal font again. When he pulled me to my feet once more, I still felt strangely bereft of any spiritual deluge of peace. The cause of this problem was again quickly discovered by the witness for the baptism. Evidently, according to the witness, my father failed to fully submerge my entire body when he dunked me into the font. My toe had apparently risen to the surface. Thus, I had to go through the ceremony a third time.
On the third round, my father managed to get my name right and fully submerge my body beneath the cleansing waters. I knew that this third and final attempt at the baptismal ceremony was complete because, as I rose to my feet after the last dunk, I experienced two immediate revelations. With my slate of sins having been wiped clean, it became clear to me that I had a lot of work to do in order to reestablish my reputation of being a little shit. And, while glancing around the observation room at the onlookers who attended the event, it became equally apparent to me that the stark white baptismal clothes that I was wearing were soaked, sticking to my flesh, and revealing of my erect manhood.
CHAPTER 2
Remember the sabbath day, to keep it holy. -Book of Mormon, Mosiah 13: 16
Before I could receive the magical powers of the Melchizedek Priesthood, I first had to practice the Aaronic Priesthood to prove my worthiness as a brainwashed cultist. This lesser priesthood is designed to prepare younger members of the Church to handle the various responsibilities of a fully mantled Melchizedek Priesthood holder. The preparatory training that is required of a young man during this initial phase of indoctrination includes: the collecting of fast offerings and the preparing, blessing, and passing of the Sacrament during church meetings. Additionally, each Aaronic Priesthood holder is required to regularly attend Sunday church service and is strongly encouraged to take part in youth activities and Scouting.
Like every other kid that I knew while moving through the ranks of the Aaronic Priesthood, I was forced to attend church services with my family. Members of the Mormon faith typically worship at their designated ward meetinghouse every Sunday for a three-hour block. Whereas most of this time is generally consumed with Priesthood Quorum lectures and Sunday School rubric, at least one hour is allocated to Sacrament meeting each week, where the congregation of a given ward comes together as a whole to listen to speeches given by selected members over pre-chosen topics. Also during this special hour, hymns are sung in unison and the Sacrament is served to the members. (Mormon church services are unique, in that there is no preacher, no plate of alms being passed around, no organized
