Saints in Babylon

Ever since Joseph Smith boldly declared his encounter with God and Jesus Christ at Palmyra, New York, Mormons have been the subject of almost mystical fascination. From the founding of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints in 1830, Smith and his followers were admired and reviled, embraced and chased across the American continent. Driven west after Smith’s assassination in Illinois, the Mormons took root in the Salt Lake Valley of present-day Utah. There, Zion was built. The Saints found a modicum of peace. As the resourceful new shepherd of the flock, Brigham Young has since been dubbed the "American Moses."

For Smith, a fourteen-year-old farm boy, to establish a religious organization that today has more than eleven million adherents across the globe is surely one of the most inspiring – if not miraculous – stories ever to unfold.

Las Vegas is a spectacular tale in its own right. In less than a century, the once-insignificant outpost has blossomed into a world-famous metropolis. The fastest growing city in U.S. history, it is home to nine of 10 largest hotels on the planet. Just one intersection – Tropicana Avenue and Las Vegas Boulevard, better known as the Strip – has more hotel rooms than the entire city of San Francisco. Each year nearly forty million tourists come to frolic at faux pyramids, Roman palaces and pirate battles.

Just an eight-hour drive from the mecca of Mormonism, Las Vegas shares, paradoxically, a homespun history with the Salt Lake pioneers. In the mid-1800s, some of those pioneers and their descendants began moving down the Old Mormon Trail, planting the seeds of Anglo-European civilization in an unforgiving desert. Quietly and industriously, Mormons staked their claim in what would become a boomtown.

That sober-minded Mormons would have a guiding hand in the formation and fruition of Las Vegas may seem the supreme irony. Where Salt Lake was built on piety, Las Vegas prospered on luck – or, rather, gamblers’ lack of it. While one rails against sin, the other revels in it. This curious coupling highlights both a pragmatic faith and an adaptable civic contract. It also raises intriguing questions about the future of Mormonism.

Where Las Vegas may be taken at face value as an adult-oriented Disneyland, Mormons are invariably held to a higher standard. Though Latter-day Saints may look and act like the idealized next-door neighbor, non-Mormons may suspect that things are not quite as they seem. The suspicions, which have long dogged the Church, date back to the days of polygamy. And although the practice of taking plural wives was renounced by Church leaders more than one hundred years ago, doubts persist about the LDS brand of Christianity. Citing such sacred Mormon ordinances as baptism for the dead and eternal marriage, mainstream Christian critics insist that the Church is just another cult.

Despite the fact that the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints is the most aggressive proselytizing religion on earth, its members are often perceived as clannish in their social and commercial endeavors. Outward appearances can be telling. Mormon families tend to be large, women favor modest, full-length dresses, youngsters eschew tattoos and body piercing. Because obedient members don’t drink, smoke or swear, they stand out -- particularly in a worldly Babylon like Las Vegas.

Such stark contrasts put Mormons under a microscope. Members who don’t abide by the Church’s strict behavioral standards are branded "Jack Mormons.’’ And Las Vegas has its share of Jacks and Jills. This kind of labeling alternately aggravates and empowers the faithful. They point out that one never hears of a "Jack Catholic,’’ let alone a "Jack Jew." Lutherans who don’t regularly attend church services aren’t typically dismissed as "inactive Lutherans."

Name-calling aside, devout Mormons believe that Las Vegas actually makes them stronger. Because the temptations of the world are so close at hand, these Church members say their religion plays a critical role in their lives. A demanding denomination that conducts hours of meetings and activities for every man, woman and child each week, the Mormon faith becomes a social and cultural security blanket. If Mormons are judged by the world as holier than thou, that’s OK with them. As long as they’re living in Las Vegas, they’re committed to making a life for themselves and their families – slot machines, strip joints and all-night bars be damned.

And so a two-edged question arises: What have Mormons meant to Las Vegas and what does Las Vegas portend for Mormons?