LOST BETWEEN TWO WORLDS

Hanging around outside the conference
Robert Kirby
Tribune columnist
Article Last Updated: 04/11/2008 07:42:40 PM MDT

   The Saturday session of LDS General Conference was boring. I wasn't
edified a bit. I got up early, put on a necktie, and rode TRAX like
pressed ham all the way downtown - for nothing.
    I didn't actually attend Conference, partly because I didn't have
a ticket, but mostly because I've been watching Conference at home for
so long it's impossible for me to hearken unto the spirit without a
recliner and a large bag of Doritos.
    Getting inside the Conference Center requires running a double
security gauntlet. This isn't a big deal for the average Mormon, but
then the average Mormon doesn't work for The Tribune.
    First I have to get by local cops working traffic and managing
demonstrators around the Conference Center. I know most of Salt Lake's
finest well enough to understand that they would dearly love to see
something stupid happen to me.
    Narrow experience has taught me that when a motor cop directing
traffic tells a mob of conference-goers to wait while the journalist
crosses the street, it's time to look carefully both ways for trucks.
    Church security is even fussier. I got pitched out of a Conference
Center screening line last year. As near as I can tell it was either
because I had a Diet Coke in my bag or hadn't done my home teaching
since 1988.
    That's OK. Staying outside is good enough for the likes of me.
Inside the Conference Center is about how I'm not a good enough
Mormon. Outside is all about why I'm going to hell just for being
one.
    Unfortunately, the street preachers were a tame bunch this year.
They've toned down a lot from past conferences when they got in
people's way, called them children of whores, and waved temple
garments around.
    Because I'm not a deeply spiritual person, I have a hard time
understanding how you sell someone on God's love using tactics you
know perfectly well wouldn't unload a used car. Maybe that's where
miracles come into play.
    It does make for good entertainment, though, or did until things
got boring. On Saturday, the street preachers kept their distance.
Groups of Mormons sang to try to drown them out. Nobody got socked or
arrested.
    Nobody got converted either, at least not that I saw. I went home
from Conference feeling strangely unfulfilled.
    If I'm wrong about evangelism - and the most effective way of
touching someone's heart really is by getting your teeth into their
butt - the street preachers failed the Lord miserably this
Conference.
    Maybe loathing is the best way to show people you love them. It
worked so well for those Mormon missionaries in Colorado. And it's
doing such a bang-up job in the rest of the world.