Editor’s note • This story is part of a six-part series on the impact of Utah’s religious divide on neighborhoods. Read the previous installment — a look at the divide and kids.
If you want a hint at how integrated a neighborhood is, pull out a lawn chair on Halloween night and watch the foot traffic.
For Marcie McCartney’s corner of Lehi, all the kids trick or treat together, hitting every house on the street — just one example of the friendly atmosphere she said (mostly) prevails in her neck of the woods.
“We go for walks together, wave as we drive by and help each other,” she said. “I have always tried to be friends with everyone, although people have rejected me because I’m a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.”
Jonathan Myers, on the other hand, grew accustomed while living in Centerville to watching Latter-day Saint kids and their parents skip his home (he and his family recently relocated to Syracuse).
The father of four also said that, while living there, his family didn’t receive invitations to neighborhood parties, which were advertised at Latter-day Saint services.
“So we didn’t find out about it until we came home and noticed a block party happening,” he said. “We almost never participated simply because we were left out of the phone tree.”
Throughout the state, Latter-day Saint ward (congregation) Facebook groups often double as de facto neighborhood chats, further siloing communication, and events tend to take place in church buildings, a place not everyone is comfortable entering.
There are exceptions — party planners who go above and beyond to not only get the word out to everyone in the community but also to host gatherings at parks or other neutral locations.
Even then there is the challenge that residents tend to talk to those they already know and about the things they have in common. For a lot of Latter-day Saints, that’s fellow believers and church-related topics.
“Neighborhood gatherings usually end up with a ‘Mormon’ feel,” Bountiful’s Richard Spratley, a non-Latter-day Saint, recounted, “as people address each other as ‘brother’ and ‘sister’ and tend to talk about ward- and stake-related matters.”
Neighborhoods that bridge the gap
And yet, for all these obstacles, examples remain of communities that find ways to foster meaningful and ongoing connections.
“When we have neighborhood get-togethers, everyone is invited,” Taylorsville’s Matthew Pruss, who was raised Catholic, said. “The local ward’s LDS Young Women group always invites my daughter to their events, and they all have fun. People don’t care if you drink or have different views.”
Neither was he the only one to give his Salt Lake County suburb high marks.
Ammar Hussein, a Muslim from Iraq, said he has always received “respect and support” from his Taylorsville neighbors.
“We meet and chat,” he added. “We visit each other sometimes. I celebrate Christmas with them, and they celebrate Ramadan with me.”
Latter-day Saint Sara Wells described similar outreach where she lives in Lehi. Yes, some of the events her ward stages are for members only, but many — ice cream in the park, holiday parties, barbecues, bike parades, book club and bunco game nights — aren’t.
“There is no effort to convert” at these “nondenominational” activities, the mother of three said, “or have LDS beliefs as an entry ticket.”
Why the difference? Why do residents of one neighborhood gather (relatively) seamlessly at the park for “cookies on the lawn” while the inhabitants of another exist as if in separate worlds depending on their religion or lack thereof?
“Geography has a lot to do with it,” said Jana Spangler, a faith transition coach with clientele across Utah. The more religiously diverse a neighborhood is, the harder it is to form rigid in and out groups.
Local church leaders also play important roles by setting the overall posture — be it inward or outward facing — for their flocks. The more gung-ho a bishop (lay leader in a Latter-day Saint congregation) is about making ward events inclusive of the whole neighborhood, the more likely they will be.
Victoria Petro, a Salt Lake City council member who represents a highly diverse district located west of Interstate 15 and north of I-80, praised a Latter-day Saint bishop in her district who organized a neighborhood July Fourth event in which recent immigrants from the community shared their experiences of moving to the United States.
(Trent Nelson | The Salt Lake Tribune) Salt Lake City Council Chair Victoria Petro speaks at the opening of The Other Side Donuts in Salt Lake City on Wednesday, June 26, 2024. The elected official gave her district high marks for its religious integration, stressing that west-siders generally can’t “afford to isolate."
The coffee conundrum
Spangler, a Latter-day Saint who is currently “taking a break” from the church, said her own stake president (lay leader of a regional group of congregations and one step above bishop) went so far as to give her the official volunteer assignment, or calling, of healing the divide in and around her Holladay neighborhood.
She went to work, reaching out to people from all sides and asking to hear their experiences. What she heard was that many struggled to feel heard and seen by their Latter-day Saint neighbors.
“There were microaggressions all over the place,” Spangler said, and a sense that Latter-day Saints felt as though they only had “something to teach [non-Latter-day Saints] and not that [church members] had anything to learn from them.”
In short, those in the minority needed those in the majority to show them that they were equally important to and within the community.
(Bethany Baker | The Salt Lake Tribune) Jana Spangler, a faith transition coach, has spent a lot of time listening to neighbors on both sides of the religious divide. One conclusion she's reached in the process is the need for her fellow Latter-day Saints to demonstrate greater genuine interest in their neighbors.
Spangler took these insights and made a suggestion for the planners of the next ward/neighborhood activity: Why not have a coffee truck show up alongside the soda truck they were planning to hire?
It was a simple way, she argued, to indicate to all the neighbors, including former Latter-day Saints, that they were seen and wanted.
As part of their faith’s Word of Wisdom health code, Latter-day Saints are taught not to drink coffee, tea or alcohol. The idea never left the runway.
“[The leaders],” Spangler said, “just couldn’t bring themselves to do it.”
Race and the religious divide
Much of the state’s growth is made of people of color moving to Utah from out of state, said Latter-day Saint Kimberly Applewhite Teitter, a Black licensed psychologist specializing in racial trauma and child psychology.
(Photo courtesy of Kimberly Applewhite Teitter) Latter-day Saint psychologist Kimberly Applewhite Teitter said she often hears from new Utahns of color that they would prefer to keep distance socially between themselves and Latter-day Saints, including Latter-day Saints of their same race.
“Some of them are part of the dominant religious culture,” she said, “but many of them are not.”
Teitter said she often hears non-Latter-day Saints say they “would rather their social circles not include LDS people, even if they are from the same ethnic group.”
The reason often can be traced, she explained, to “fear or fatigue” resulting from past negative treatment by church members.
Coming next • How Utah’s religious divide surfaces in some neighborhoods whenever it snows.
The Salt Lake Tribune wants to hear from you: How can we overcome Utah’s religious divide, which often separates Latter-day Saints from their neighbors and vice versa? Share your stories and ideas.
Editor’s note • This story is available to Salt Lake Tribune subscribers only. Thank you for supporting local journalism.