My First Experience with the Mormon Temple Endowment 

The first time I stepped into a Mormon temple, I was brimming with anticipation. My upbringing had painted the temple as the most sacred space on Earth, a place where God Himself walked the halls.

For years, I had gazed at photos of temples hanging in every room of my home, sang songs about my excitement to visit, and journaled about my desire to participate in temple ceremonies. But nothing could have prepared me for what I experienced—a mixture of the surreal, the strange, and the profoundly disillusioning.

Growing up, I revered the temple as the pinnacle of spiritual achievement. Baptisms for the dead at age 12 were my first taste, but the real prize was entering the temple for my endowment. I imagined it would be transcendent—a moment when heaven and Earth would touch.

Instead, I found myself participating in rituals I didn’t understand, wearing ceremonial clothing I had never seen before, and learning “sacred” handshakes and names that felt more bureaucratic than spiritual. The gap between my expectations and reality was staggering, leaving me feeling betrayed by the very institution I had trusted most.

The Build-Up: Years of Anticipation and Indoctrination

For Mormons, the temple isn’t just important—it’s everything. My family and church leaders spoke of it with reverence, often in hushed tones that elevated its mystery. As a child, I filled my journals with entries about the day I’d finally be worthy to enter. My excitement was fueled by songs like I Love to See the Temple, which romanticized the experience, turning it into a lifelong goal.

This anticipation was not unique to me. In Mormon culture, the temple is the ultimate destination. It’s where one performs sacred ordinances, including baptisms for the dead, washings and anointings, and endowments. These rituals are positioned as essential steps for eternal salvation, designed to connect families forever and secure a spot in the highest degree of heaven.

But there’s a catch: members know almost nothing about what happens in the temple until they’re already inside. The secrecy is framed as sacredness, but in hindsight, it feels deceptive. How can you consent to something you don’t understand?

My Temple Endowment: From Awe to Disillusionment

At 20, just weeks before my missionary training began, I went through the endowment ceremony in the Louisville, Kentucky temple. I arrived full of hope, believing this would be the most spiritual moment of my life. But as I donned the unfamiliar garments and stepped into the washing and anointing stalls, my excitement gave way to confusion.

The washing and anointing ceremony involved water and oil being applied symbolically, accompanied by blessings over various parts of the body. I was surprised to see women participating in the blessings—a rare exception to the rule in a church where only men hold the priesthood. For a brief moment, it felt empowering, but the excitement was short-lived. As the ceremony continued, I realized the empowerment was an illusion, carefully contained within the temple walls and never extending to everyday life.

Then came the new name—a secret identifier given to every participant. I remember feeling special when I received mine, only to later learn that everyone who attended that day received the same name. What I had imagined as a divinely inspired personal blessing turned out to be nothing more than a conveyor-belt ritual.

The Heart of Mormonism Revealed

The endowment ceremony itself was a mix of solemn promises, symbolic gestures, and secret handshakes. Participants learn these handshakes and tokens under the pretense that they will be required to pass by angels guarding the gates of heaven.

The entire process felt rushed, leaving me anxious about whether I would remember everything. Adding to my discomfort were the overtly patriarchal undertones of the ceremony.

Men made covenants directly with God, while women were instructed to covenant with their husbands, who in turn covenanted with God. Even in this supposed house of the Lord, women were positioned as secondary, a theme that repeated throughout the ritual.

One of the most unsettling parts of the experience was the presence of Satan. He was a central figure in the temple film, appearing more prominently than Jesus. For a place heralded as the holiest on Earth, the temple’s focus on Satan struck me as bizarre and unsettling.

The Aftermath: A Crisis of Faith

As I left the temple that day, I felt a profound sense of betrayal. This was supposed to be the pinnacle of my faith, yet it felt hollow, even cultish. The secrecy, the strange rituals, and the overt sexism all clashed with the ideals of love and equality I had believed the church stood for.

In the weeks and months that followed, I grappled with what I had experienced. My faith, once unshakable, began to crumble as I realized that the temple—billed as the heart of Mormonism—was not a place of divine connection but a symbol of control and conformity.

Final Thoughts

Reflecting on my first temple experience, I see it as a turning point in my journey out of Mormonism. The dissonance between what I was taught to expect and what I actually encountered forced me to confront the cracks in my belief system. While it was painful, it was also liberating. It set me on a path toward reclaiming my autonomy and finding meaning outside the confines of the church.

If you’ve had similar experiences or questions about temple rituals, I’d love to hear your thoughts. Let’s keep the conversation going.