by

Rebekah Perkins Crawford is a visiting professor in Social and Public Health at Ohio University. She has a PhD in Health Communication.

The recent tragic suicide of a BYU student has prompted conversations about the relationship between religiosity and mental health, about whether Latter-day Saints have a problem with suicide, and, if we do, what our response should be.

Experts (especially at BYU) have consistently claimed that LDS religious practice is positively associated with mental health. Such claims are based on studies that average difference, homogenize experience, and oversimplify a complex issue. Other research refutes this conclusion, pointing to a complex relationship between religious practice and mental health. For instance, people who are religious are less likely to get divorced, abuse controlled substances, and fear death, but they are more likely to have unhealthy ideas about sex, struggle with anxiety and perfectionism, experience guilt, and fear the punishments of God. So it is safe to conclude that religiosity is a double-edged sword when it comes to mental health: it can heal some people and help on certain issues while at the same time hurting and harming others. How each of us fares in this religious system depends in a large part on where we are located in our church’s institutional and social hierarchy, whether we are supported or rejected by our community, and what our specific mental health issues are.

My own research supports the conclusion that there is a complicated and conflicting relationship between religiosity and mental health among Latter-day Saints. When I interviewed bishops and therapists about their experiences working with members of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints experiencing psychological distress, they told me about times when LDS belief and community membership were both supportive of and harmful to individual’s mental wellness. If a member’s distress could be attributed to biomedical causes, for instance, the “bad wiring” of autism or the “imbalanced chemicals” associated with depression, then religious leaders and their wards were very effective at supporting recovery.

Despite being incredibly busy, bishops consistently report that their priority is the spiritual, emotional, and physical wellbeing of their ward members, and describe going to great lengths to meet one-on-one with members in distress. Bishops actively cultivate relationships with trusted mental health professionals, are among the first to suggest professional counseling to those in distress, and sometimes even help members pay for therapy when they can’t afford it. Many bishops report actively working to combat the stigma associated with mental illness, holding fifth Sunday lessons about mental health or inviting professional mental health care providers to speak in religious meetings. The collaboration and cooperation between LDS bishops and professional mental health providers were among the most organized and well-developed of any of the denominations I interviewed.

Other stories also made it clear that LDS belief and community constrained some individual’s mental wellness. If psychological distress was understood to be the consequence of sin, or if the individual in distress was perceived as a threat to the church, its teachings, or its leadership, then religious leaders’ responses and communal rejection could become acute sources of emotional pain that amplified symptoms of mental illness in some or even caused psychological distress in people who might otherwise be healthy. Bishops who misunderstood reports of sexual violence as confessions of sin, for example, and who responded with disciplinary action against victims who needed advocacy compounded the consequences of trauma. Similarly, if a religious leader became a spokesman for rejection who condemned, disciplined, or ejected LGBT (or SSA) individuals out of the community they exponentially increased the isolation, distress, and suicidality of already vulnerable Latter-day Saints. People experiencing a faith crisis, struggling with traditional gender roles, or who were living in abusive family relationships were also vulnerable to receiving counsel that amplified their distress.

It makes sense that members with different mental health issues, emotional needs, and sources of psychological pain are going to have different experiences in this system. How are we to understand and approach this variety of experience, then?

There’s a big emphasis in our culture to trust our individual experience and to value our own emotional response to truth. We stand at the pulpit on fast and testimony Sundays and say, “I know,” “I felt,” “I believe.” While trusting our individual interpretations of experience can be empowering and liberating, it can also create a cultural blind spot to understanding and valuing the experiences of others. It is a cognitive shortcut to assume that because my membership has benefited my mental health yours must as well. Responding to another’s pain without the empathy that comes from being able to take their perspective puts us at risk of alienating them and compounding their distress. How we respond to people who live with difference says more about us than it does about them.

As complicated and tragic as suicide is, there are things we can do as a community to make it less likely. Suicide is not just an individual problem; it should prompt each of us towards serious and somber self-reflection. Last year the Utah Department of Health reported a 141.3% increase in the youth suicide rate. Suicide remains the 5th leading cause of death for Utahns, and Utah scored dead last in the US for overall adult mental health and suicide ideation. It seems clear that this is a problem. What remains to be known is why it is happening and whether we will allow it to become part of our legacy.

Now is not the time for defensive claims that religiosity supports mental health. Now is the time for taking a real, hard look at a complex, messy issue. Now is the time for us to be vulnerable, to be open to hard conversations, and to prioritize the experience and perspective of the other. We do so many things well but must figure out where we are falling down and how we can improve. The scriptural injunction to look after every sheep has never been more applicable.

*Photo by Jaka Škrlep on Unsplash