"But I miss the actual LDS ward houses of my youth. They were pagan places by today's designs, having as they did stained-glass windows, murals, the occasional effigies and odd warrens. It was uncorrelated architecture at its best.

These things have all been banished. Stained glass, for example, seemed to leave us right around the time of McConkie's Mormon Doctrine, which pretty much spelled out that stained glass had its place - in the devil's church."

Following the direction of LDS Church leaders, thousands of Mormons called their senators last week to express support for a bill upholding traditional marriage.

Actually, according to the senators themselves, only about 4,000 Mormons called. That's still a lot of Mormons, but not as many as you might think considering how many of us there are. Obviously, most of us didn't pick up the phone.

I agree with 67.3 percent of the stuff I hear in church. I'm basically indifferent to 14.1 percent. Meanwhile, I disagree with 8.2 percent. The rest, along with a 5 percent plus or minus margin of error, I'm still thinking about.

This isn't a popular take on things in the LDS Church, where church leader utterances are regarded by most as end-of-discussion fact. Except of course, when we don't feel like it

Human beings were created with individual brains. If you always agree with someone else - no matter how much in charge they might be - you probably aren't using yours as much as you might think.

Last Saturday's column about the Mormon/non-Mormon divide in Utah generated feedback that, I believe, points out the true nature of the problem. Stupidity is no respecter.

The response from non-Mormons was decidedly bipolar over whether Mormons make great or horrible neighbors.

It didn't take long before I began to suspect that the divide in Utah has far less to do with theology than it does psychology. Secure and tolerant people reach across the gulf. Bigots and fools condemn out of hand.

I could be part of the problem. One reader, apparently LDS, objected to my observation that Mormons are so numerous in Utah it is impossible to drive anywhere without running over one.

OK, I probably should have phrased that in a kinder, gentler way. Maybe I should have said it's impossible to swing a dead cat in Utah without hitting a Mormon, or that we're thicker than thieves. However, the response from cat owners and thieves would have been worse.

I'm thinking what we need are some "I Brake for Mormons" bumper stickers.

Two weeks ago, a kid got up in church and announced to the ward, "I'd like to bear my tithing."

He meant to say, of course, that he would like to bear his testimony. But it's such a small LDS gospel distinction that nobody bothered to call him on it.

It happens in LDS wards on the first Sunday of every month, particularly those with mobs of kids. Fast & Testimony meeting features a line of small children slogging to the microphone to score some points.

I remember the first time I got up. I was 9 and terrified just short of incontinence.

In a breathless rush I said that I knew the church was true (a lie), that I was thankful for my brothers and sisters (another lie) and that school was good (a whopper).

It wasn't the last time I lied in church. I performed similar public services over the years, parroting things I'd heard adults say. As I got older though, I tried to be a little more honest about my faith.

Today, I think it's a bit disingenuous to push kids to say they know something when they don't. It's OK to encourage them toward public gratitude and the like, but I wonder about the efficacy of insisting that a kid be truthful everywhere but in church.