As a teenager, I loved Peter Jackson’s “Lord of the Rings” movies — partly because of the battles between good and evil but mostly because of Orlando Bloom.
I would daydream during sixth period trigonometry that I somehow met Orli, as my friends and I called him, and that we fell deeply in love. Sometimes I had landed a summer job on set. Sometimes I had met him on vacation in Southern California. But every variation of my fantasy brought an inevitable snag: I would have to tell him I was Mormon.
I don’t remember what happened after I gave him the news. Did he convert? Did our differences only heighten our forbidden love? Whatever the outcome, the point is my religious identity thwarted my imaginings, because Mormonism stamps you with a scent that seems not to mix with fame.
I have thought about this too much in the years I’ve been following famous members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints on an Instagram account I created called Mormons in Media. My quest has always been to find just one person who is mainstream famous and goes to church. This gets messy for a few reasons.
The first is that it seems tricky to be a fully active member of the church and fully famous, thanks to the rock ‘n’ roll lifestyle the religion’s straitlaced-ness forbids. Let’s think through some famous members.
Off the top of my head, we have the born-Latter-day Saint Hollywooders (Ryan Gosling, Katherine Heigl, Aaron Eckhart, Amy Adams, Dustin Lance Black), the athletes (Jimmer Fredette, Taysom Hill, Bryce Harper), the musicians (Dan Reynolds, David Archuleta, Brandon Flowers).
Out of this list, I think the only one who is fully famous and fully a member is Flowers, who I guess needs to teach a class of some sort, perhaps “How to Stay in the Church When You’ve Seen How Unboring Life Can Be.” I struggle to think of a mainstream influencer who’s made it big and still wears temple garments.
Fame and faith
Let’s pause, though, before I go any further, because isn’t it gross that I’m trying to figure out whether these people still go to church? This leads me to my second reason, which is that fame and Mormonism do not mix: If you happen to become famous, your fellow Saints will be so, so annoying about your fame.
I recently saw a cringey reel about how Blake Lively supposedly went to church in Los Angeles because her brother’s, sister’s, dad’s friend is a member. I have personally posted the Ryan Gosling talent show clip a dozen times and don’t plan to stop. Latter-day Saints apocryphally claimed Steve Martin as one of their own for decades before enough people had the internet to prove it wrong.
This interest in famous members’ religiosity is unseemly and yet I can’t seem to help my curiosity. Most recently, I’ve thought about it while watching the MyKayla Skinner dustup unfold, realizing I was proud to claim a bronze medal gymnast as “one of us” until she made belittling comments about the work ethic of the current U.S. team. Should she, as a member, be held to a higher standard? Do her actions reflect on Latter-day Saints as a whole, and, as one of them, do I need to forgive her?
I am fascinated by famous Saints because I know how wholly Mormonism can shape a life. We clamor to know everything we can about famous people, and essentially that’s what fame is — a sacrifice of privacy. But I wonder if people’s religious status is private enough that it should be exempt.
Should Bryce Harper not have to answer “clown questions” about whether he drinks? Should dance music DJ Kaskade not have to worry about me tweeting that I once saw him at stake conference? (Yes.)
Here is where I find myself mourning the loss of the term “Mormon.” I wish that instead of giving up the word, we could have demoted it to a cultural moniker. I like the idea of a bigger-tent term, a word that acknowledges how extensively this religion marks its members, even sometimes after they leave. I want to shout my support for Saints of any stripe who are contributing to art or culture from my tiny platform, and yet I sometimes fear, for lack of a synonym, outing them. Or potentially worse, claiming them when they’d rather distance themselves.
The David Archuleta conundrum
(Rick Egan | The Salt Lake Tribune) David Archuleta performs at LoveLoud at the Delta Center in November 2023. The singer has left his Latter-day Saint faith.
I was with a group of friends recently when someone referred to David Archuleta as part of the church. Another friend, who has left the faith, quickly said, “but he’s not Mormon anymore.” The implication was that it was inappropriate to claim him now. I found myself torn. I want to claim Archuleta as much as he at least once wanted to be claimed, because Mormonism was for so long his community, his global hometown, and may Brigham Young University forever book him for its women’s conference (I know it won’t). On the other hand, I want to respect that he says he has been hurt by the church, and give him full separation if that’s what he desires.
The point is disclosing religiosity should be up to the individual. And yet, with Mormonism, the evidence can be so strong it’s impossible to hide. For example, if you have “Mormon face,” are from Utah, or have BYU on your Wikipedia. Or if, like me, you’re so awkward you just voluntarily out yourself.
One day, my teenage self grew up and moved to Los Angeles. I worked at a trendy ad agency and at lunchtime would frequent a nearby cafe that employed a tall, dark, handsome cashier. I would make sure to stand in his checkout line. He’d bring free cookies to my table. One day, having learned my real name from my credit card, he tracked down my email and asked me out. It was a real-life meet-cute — until I ruined it.
“I’d love to go out with you,” I typed, “but first I have to tell you — I’m Mormon.”
(Ten lifetimes passed between the time I hit send and his response.)
“I know,” he wrote, like I was an idiot. “I Googled you.”
We dated. We did not end up together. Maybe because I was Mormon, or maybe we just didn’t click. But maybe it didn’t work out because he was trying to make it in Hollywood, and the universe knew we were a match made in hell.
(Rebbie Brassfield) Tribune guest columnist Rebbie Brassfield.
Rebbie Brassfield is a writer and creative director in the advertising industry. She lives in Saratoga Springs with her two young kids, where she spends most of her time picking things up. You can find her overanalyzing at @MormonsInMedia on Instagram, or see more of her work and writing at www.RebbieBrassfield.com.
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