My childbearing years are slinking off one by one, and the shriveled dating pool forces a brute calculus: Do I date exclusively within the tribe of Latter-day Saints and risk being single and childless forever? Or do I widen my dating pool to improve my odds of having a family and risk the integrity of my faith?
More than in my 20s, my biological drive to marry wisely is at odds with the religious imperative to marry within my faith. I know there are fine Latter-day Saint men whom I could happily marry, but fatigue at the search amid adolescent dating dynamics, cultural insularity and dwindling numbers of single men has led me to look more broadly.
Some say there’s no need. In recent years, the church has granted greater respect for singleness, presumably the sanctioned “Plan B” should a temple marriage not work out. After all, Latter-day Saints believe we can marry in the next life if we don’t marry in this life. But while this might comfort someone looking backwards, it does little to guide the decisions facing me now.
Why not an alternate Plan B? We could embolden Latter-day Saint singles to pursue marriage with non-members, if this calls to them, and to trust that mixed-faith marriages can be beautiful, generative places to live their faith.
For some, dating non-members can entail a transformative rebirth. I’ve seen friends who assumed marriage was statistically impossible find it suddenly accessible. I’ve seen friends who thought themselves categorically undesirable thrive in a dating pool with more generous taste than that of, say, Brigham Young University. I’ve seen friends be jolted into maturity when required to take full responsibility for their beliefs.
I am not married yet, but dating non-members has been so rewarding that — more than a plan B for marriage — it feels like a way I have ministered to the world, and been ministered to. Where I live, in Washington D.C., most people I date are either ignorant of or amused by Mormonism. Scratch the surface, and many want to deepen their spirituality but lack courage and motivation. My faith has created openings for expansive conversations they seldom find opportunity for.
I’ve never intended to change anyone, but I’ve seen nonreligious people, even atheists, grow sympathetic to religion and open to prayer, and I’ve seen people of other faiths lean closer to their own beliefs and desires. Meanwhile, I have grown sharper, kinder, more aware of God’s love and more trusting that vibrant, beautiful souls exist everywhere.
These relationships remind me of Joseph Smith’s teaching that we should “gather all the good and true principles in the world and treasure them up, or we shall not come out true ‘Mormons.’” Could this offer a positive conception of mixed-faith pairings? How about when coupled with the apostle Paul’s justification for marriage to an unbelieving spouse? If temple marriage seals humanity to God in a vertical bond, could mixed-faith marriage gather humanity together in a horizontal bond?
Members likely fear that decentering temple marriage would bring spiritual and even demographic disaster, since spouses and children of mixed-faith homes tend to be less religious. What if a non-member hopes to educate their children in another faith? What if they question the member’s faith? There are risks as with any partnership, and the person’s character and attitude matter immensely.
Still, a more urgent problem is the alienation of those for whom temple marriage seems more like a fairytale than a realistic choice. More than 50% of the adult population of Latter-day Saints are unmarried. Singles are less religious on every measure than married people. In a church where marriage and faith are so tightly linked, declining marriage rates may have more disastrous consequences than mixed-faith marriages for church activity.
It’s not hard to imagine why. Many older Latter-day Saint singles experience the temple and church as reminders of personal failures and broken dreams. Even knowing we might live it, the prospect of lifelong singleness feels suffocating. We fear forcing unhappy pairings simply to obtain temple marriages. We fear that the time to have children will pass and we’ll regret not pursuing all our options.
Singleness deserves more respect and support. But why not also reduce the tension between faith and family prospects? Why not expand our notions of divine partnership? Why not embrace the challenges that mixed-faith relationships bring as opportunities for spiritual growth? Why not build confidence that such relationships can add to the goodness and truth that faithful individuals seek?
Mixed-faith relationships won’t work for everyone. Yet they bear distinct spiritual fruits and offer a bright future for many where there is needless stagnation and despair. Why not bestow more hope and honor on these unions?
(Diana Brown) Diana Brown is Associate Director for Faith Matters and co-host of “The Soloists,” a new Faith Matters podcast on the rise of singleness and dating challenges from a faith-based angle. She lives in Washington, D.C., where she runs an Iranian Cinema Club and is a Residential Minister at Georgetown University.
Diana Brown is Associate Director for Faith Matters and co-host of “The Soloists,” a new Faith Matters podcast on the rise of singleness and dating challenges from a faith-based angle. She lives in Washington, D.C., where she runs an Iranian Cinema Club and is a Residential Minister at Georgetown University.
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