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I Want A Church Job That Pays in Cash
ROBERT KIRBY
Several months ago, I got a new church job. I work in the Family History Center one night a
week, helping people sort through their ancestors. As church jobs go, it's pretty cool. But I may
need a new one.
Last week someone asked me what I found most fascinating about working in the Family
History Center. I told them it was the kinship I now felt for the mobs that drove the church out of
Missouri and Illinois.
Seriously, only mobsters and genealogists can appreciate how much easier it is to work with
dead Mormons than with live ones.
Being completely honest with people is not always a good idea. Nowhere is this more true than
in church, the very place they teach you that lying is a sin.
Anyway, I may be getting released soon. Because I need a church job -- having one helps keep
me out of bars and jails -- I have given a lot of thought into what the next one might be.
For starters, I think I would like to get paid next time. Working for blessings is OK, but since
those tend to be somewhat ambiguous -- I once heard a guy testify that getting bitten by a shark
was a blessing in disguise -- I would rather have the cash.
There is, of course, the celestial benefit package that comes with most volunteer church jobs.
Working in the nursery or home teaching is supposed to put shingles on your mansion in heaven.
However, considering the quality of my life, closing costs alone will probably keep me out of
that neighborhood.
Insisting on a paycheck rules out most standard church callings, which is good because calling
me to teach in the Primary again would probably have an adverse effect on that whole jail/bar
thing.
The only job I feel truly suited for is church spokesman. Unfortunately, that job is already
occupied by Don LeFevre. I like Don. Whenever I call him up with difficult questions about
church stuff, he never hangs up on me.
For example, once, when I was working on a piece about the human side of LDS church
leaders, I asked Don to find out how many general authorities had ever been skinny-dipping.
I don't know if Don asked every single one of them, but he must have asked the more
important ones because I got a call from my out-of-breath bishop 20 minutes later.
This helpfulness may or may not have had anything to do with Don retiring at the end of this
year. I would be a lot more sad to see him go if I didn't want his job.
Since my application for the job of LDS Church spokesman stands little chance of making it to
the desk of him/those doing the actual hiring, I will submit it here.
NAME: Brother Kirby.
ADDRESS: The Salt Lake Tribune.
EDUCATION: Second Class Scout.
EXPERIENCE: A bunch, some of which I confessed years ago in order to go on a mission.
HOBBIES: See above.
REFERENCES: Pat Bagley and Larry Erdmann. Bammer, if you can find him.
While I wait to hear back, I should probably face up to reality. The church probably has
someone else in mind already. Worse, they know that news releases coming from me would
consist of things I made up to get a rise out of the gospel Nazis.
Saturday, October 3, 1998
Every Mormon Ward Should Have a Gossip Doctrine Instructor and a Release Society President
ROBERT KIRBY
It's been a week and still no word about my application for the job of LDS Church
spokesman. That's OK. When career tracking is done on a ``time and all eternity'' basis, these
things take a while.
I did hear from several people who objected to my genealogy worker/Missouri mobber
comparison, specifically that dead Mormons are way easier to work with than live ones. The fact
that a few readers wish this Mormon would die helps prove my point.
One such letter was delivered to my desk by a newsroom assistant wearing oven mitts and a
welder's mask. The writer, who has obviously been talking to my mom, claimed that I was an
embarrassment to the church, ``and not fit to hold any church job.''
Possibly. Having been in the position to offer members the opportunity to work like a donkey,
I can vouch for the fact that it's sometimes hard to get the right person for a particular ward
calling.
Conversely, a lot of members could serve if only there were callings more ideally suited to
their personalities, with or without lots of Thorazine.
So that you wouldn't have to, I gave this matter a lot of thought. Hey, if there is one thing I am
big on, it's service to my fellow man or woman.
For what it's worth, here is Brother Kirby's list of new ward callings:
Foyer Quorum President: Someone should be in charge of the spiritual couch potatoes who
gather in the foyer during meetings. Could easily be the biggest quorum in some wards.
Ward Howler Monkey: While the reverence level in many LDS sacrament meetings is similar
to that of Hogle Zoo on fire, one kid is always louder than the rest. Make it official.
Home Preacher: It's no longer enough that you get visited once a month -- you need a two-hour
lecture (with handouts) on the marching order of the 12 Tribes of Israel as well.
Fool-Time Ward Missionary: Someone needs to connect with nonmembers in the ward who
will not answer the door when the full-time missionaries knock.
Gossip Doctrine Instructor: Keep ward angst at peak levels by calling the neighborhood
blabberhatch to teach a weekly lesson based entirely on loving innuendo.
Spiritual Livid Instructor: Assign someone to teach the rest of the ward how overworked
emotions can help them become less active.
Armageddon Specialist: From now until the total collapse of civilization, every ward shall
assign someone to help fellowship Bo Gritz back into the church. Must have own concealed
weapon permit.
Release Society President: Since guilt won't let her stand up for herself, someone has to tell the
bishop when Sister Mertz has too many church jobs already.
Sunday School Intellectual: Because some ward members really do want to know the truth
behind the basketball court markings found inside Stonehenge, or why the Savior was a liberal
Democrat. The truth is on the back row.
Ward Idiot: Similar to village, but with considerable more competition. Should a bishop ever
decide to make this position official, I am moving to his ward. But only as long as it takes to get
called as a stake idiot.
Ward Bouncer: Someone to keep ward idiot in line.
This, of course, is only a sample of the new ward callings designed to fit members rather than
it being the other way around. We can find something for you, too.
Salt Lake Tribune columnist Robert Kirby lives in Springville. The self-described
``OxyMormon'' welcomes mail at P.O. Box 684, Springville, UT 84663, or e-mail at
rkirby(AT)sltrib.com.