Utah County Dream Mine still attracts LDS apocalyptic faithful

 

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This blog post was originally published in January 2011 on the now-defunct StandardBlogs. To my knowledge there are still many invested in the Dream Mine, although no work searching for riches goes on at the site. According to Wikipedia, there was an investors meeting in 2018. 

One of the more fascinating nuggets in Utah Mormon history sits at the foot of a mountain in southern Utah County. Its official name is the Relief Mine, but most know of it as the “Dream Mine.” A long-used white mill building sits next to the mine, mostly inactive for decades. Nevertheless, the Relief Mine is a public company with assets of about $3.5 million. Stock in the mine is traded and there’s a waiting list to buy shares.

As Payson, Utah, writer/historian Kevin Cantera writes in the most recent Sunstone, “investors seeking to purchase a stake in the mine happily place their names on a waiting list for the chance to pay $30 to $35 for a single share — shares with a real value, by the most generous accounting, of less than $10 each.”

Cantera’s piece, “Fully Invested: Taking Stock in Utah County’s Dream Mine,” is as much a history lesson as it is a glimpse into the first 80 or so years of the LDS Church, where visions and prophecies from higher, celestial powers, whether from dad, your bishop or a general authority, were common. That’s a lost era. If a ward member gets up today and claims to have seen Christ or the Angel Moroni, we’re apt to trade concerned glances with our seat neighbors and look embarrassed. The bishop might call a regional rep if the claim is repeated. Can anyone imagine one of today’s apostles recounting experiences that early apostle Parley P. Pratt records in his diary?

The shareholders in the Dream Mine are a throwback to the 19th century. They believe that deep into the Utah County mine there are piles and piles of gold and other precious artifacts, collected by the Nephites of Book of Mormon times. As Cantera recounts, some believe that perhaps the Sword of Laban, or even The Golden Plates, are hidden deep in the earth. The Relief Mine stockholders of the early 21st century aren’t looking for a return that will prompt a hefty capital gains tax. They expect their mine to pay off when the United States is on the brink of collapse and the dollar and other secular monetary systems have fallen.

The precious metals from the mine, and its relation to the Gospel, they believe, will save our nation from destruction in the last days. It’s an apocalyptic desire, one that was much more common 100-plus years ago, when a healthy percentage of blessings and priesthood ordinances promised the recipient that he or she would see the second coming of the Savior.

The prophet who launched the dream mine was Mormon bishop John Hyrum Koyle, who in 1894 claimed a nightime visit from the Angel Moroni, who showed him inside a mountain where there was a rich vein of gold. Lower down were nine caverns filled with Book of Mormon treasures, including the Urim and Thummim.

Koyle spent a long life preaching the doctrine of the Dream Mine and receiving revelations. He had some prominent LDS shareholders, including general authority J. Golden Kimball. The fact that there are still more than 1,000 faithful Latter-day Saints who believe Koyle’s claims underscores faithful Mormons’ strong belief of personal revelation from God. What was shouted from the pulpit long ago is regarded as best kept as a secret today, but there are enough apocalyptic Latter-day Saints out there to follow Koyle’s dream 117 years later.

And, although Koyle — after taking his spiritual mine public — was eventually repudiated by church leaders in 1913, and finally excommunicated in 1947, there are still mine stockholders, including Ogden’s Fred Naisbitt, who is quoted by Cantera as saying, “Koyle is second only to Joseph Smith in the number and accuracy of his prophecies.”

The white mill, which only gleaned 100 dollars worth of ore one year, still sits by the mountain near Spanish Fork, which draws more subdivision neighbors each year it seems. As Cantera reports, the Internet has strengthened the faith of the Dream Mine believers. The Web site is http://www.reliefmine.com but doresn't seem to work now. It had featured a glowing testimony of Koyle and links to other primitive LDS beliefs such as the White Horse Prophecy as well as notices that “the dollar will be utterly destroyed.” There is a Facebook page with contact information.

Who knows? Maybe the dollar will be destroyed. But to most Mormons, even in Utah County, the longer odds are on the Dream Mine one day paying off.

-- Doug Gibson

The elder brother to the ‘Prodigal Son’ also had his problems

 

Originally published at now-defunct StandardBlogs in March of 2014

I’m a repeat reader; if I like a novel, I’ll read it five times.  If I really like it, I’ll get around to reading it 10 times.  If it’s among my favorite novels, I never stop re-reading it.  One of the payoffs of repeat reading is catching character or plot insights, or finally recognizing – on reading number seven – a plot device.  That happened to me as I was repeat reading Stephen King’s “It.”  I finally noticed that one of the survivors of the fire at The Black Spot in Derry, Maine (set by racists) was a young black cook named “Hallorann.”  In fact, Hallorann was pretty much a hero in that scene.  Of course, as my brain had missed the previous six readings,  Hallorann is a main character in “The Shining” and is also in the sequel “Doctor Sleep.”

Repeat reading is common in religion; in the LDS church, we’re urged to read and re-read the Scriptures, including “The Bible” and “The Book of Mormon,” particularly the latter.  I’m sure that most other churches urge their members to read “The Bible” more than once.

The reason for this post is that I was thinking about repeat reading, wondering if a “lightbulb” moment could come to me as I was repeat reading the LDS scriptures.  In other words, it was a test.  I was to read scriptures in the manner I am accustomed, sometimes focusing, often not, but trying to keep focused.

I was in Luke, chapter 15, in the New Testament, reading The Prodigal Son parable when the dim bulb brightened, and that was kind of cool.  The story is familiar and even iconic.  Dad has built a good farm.  He has two sons; the elder works hard, the younger takes his inheritance, goes off and blows his money in riotous living.

Destitute, now humble, he goes home and asks his father if he can be a mere servant, so he can eat.  His dad embraces him, and they have a celebration, killing the “fatted calf.”  Meanwhile, the elder son, working in the fields, hears of the celebration for the younger son.  He’s angry and refuses to attend, reminding his dad of his hard work and his brother’s sloth.  His dad tells him that all he has is still his, but that they should rejoice that the son, once lost, has returned.

I’ve read this parable probably a 100-plus times, lots of Sunday Schools, Institutes and seminary lessons, and the principles of “sorrow,” “regret,” “contriteness,” “humility,” “forgiveness,” “love,” “reclamation,” “joy,” “happiness” have all registered.  Until a few days ago, though, I had never thought much of the elder son.  He seemed to have some justifiable outrage but was pacified by the dad in the end.

But does the elder son represent a sinner, also?  Was Christ using the mechanically faithful son to illustrate someone who does good for the wrong reasons, elevating himself in order to put down others, losing humility in the process.  I’m no expert in theology, so I went to, of course, books, to see if my thoughts had any weight.

Because I love old pre-Correlation LDS texts, I grabbed the 1938, approved by LDS President Heber J Grant, “The New Testament Speaks,” a 680-page LDS Sunday School guide, overseen by John A. Widstoe, LDS Commissioner of Education. I bought this tome at Deseret Industries. On page 379, analyzing the parable, it reads:

“Then there was also the son who was lost even though his father saw his face every day. He was the selfish, loveless one, with his contempt for those who had strayed away. Although he never left home, he was far away from his father in spirit. He had no love for his father in his heart, or he would have been glad to see his father rejoice. His years of labor had been done in a hard, mechanical way, with the thought that some day all would belong to him. St. Augustine said that the stay-at-home son was looking toward getting something rather than giving.”

The author prefers the title of “The Two Lost Sons” to “The Prodigal Son.” That was a harsher assessment that I had for the elder son, but it got me wondering if the eldest son’s role in the parable was representative of a faction in Christ’s era. Was Christ reproving someone or something? So, I went to an older, but still popular and contemporary LDS text, James E. Talmage’s “Jesus The Christ,” looking for an answer.

Talmage’s assessment of the elder son is also pointed. He writes: “There is significance in the elder son’s designation of the penitent as ‘this thy son,’ rather than ‘my brother.’ The elder son, deafened by selfish anger, refused to hear aright the affectionate assurance; ‘Son, thou art ever with me, and all that I have is thine,’ and with heart hardened by unbrotherly resentment he stood unmoved by the emotional and loving outburst, ‘this thy brother was dead, and is alive again; and was lost, and is found.’”

And Talmage draws a parallel to the eldest son’s self-righteous anger: He writes: “Pharisees and scribes, to whom this masterpiece of illustrative incident was delivered, must have taken to themselves its personal application. They were typified by the elder son, laboriously attentive to routine, methodically plodding by rule and rote in the multifarious labors of the field, without interest except that of self, and all unwilling to welcome a repentant publican or a returned sinner. From all such they were estranged; such a one might be to the indulgent and forgiving Father, ‘this thy son,’ but never to them, a brother. They cared not who or how many were lost, so long as they were undisturbed in heirship and possession by the return of penitent prodigals. …”

I guess the point of all this, or at least what I learned after my 150^th reading of the parable, is that I don’t have to be the one who sins away comfort and security to be in peril. It was an interesting – and suitable – defense for the practice of repeat reading, secular or non-secular.

-- Doug Gibson

The White Horse Prophecy apocrypha still gets talked up from time to time

I wrote this column a while back in late 2010. I thought it's interesting enough to post on blog. Perennial candidate Rex Rammell is still running for political office as late as 2018. ... After a few recent conversations with some older members of the LDS Faith, I know the White Horse Prophecy still fascinates some.

Most of us Mormons, if we are long-timers in the church, have heard that the “Constitution will hang by a thread” in the last days and that the LDS prophet, or church leadership, will save the United States from destruction.

This all comes from the “White Horse prophecy,” a bit of Mormon lore, where two devout followers, Edwin Rushton and Theodore Turley, apparently had a conversation with the prophet Joseph Smith. A “transcript” of Smith’s part of the conversation, 10-plus years later, ended up in Paradise, Utah’s John J. Robert’s private journal.

I have to admit, growing up, I thought the White Horse prophecy was Mormon doctrine. Many of the LDS adults I listened to spoke of it as if it were church doctrine. As I grew older, and couldn’t find it propagated in any priesthood or Sunday School texts, I realized it was apocrypha. It’s not impossible that Smith actually said that, it’s just that it doesn’t mean it’s a revelation by LDS Church standards.

When an LDS prophet receives revelation from God, it is submitted to the church’s Council of the 12 Apostles and discussed — and I imagine debated — in detail before it passes muster as prophecy.

In other words, a secondhand, 10-year-old journal transcript of an alleged conversation a late prophet might have had doesn’t cut it for inclusion in LDS General Conference. In fact, as early as 1918, church leaders were discounting the White Horse prophecy. The church leader at the time, Joseph F. Smith, described it as “trash” and “false.”

There is an excellent article from the FAIR LDS site on the White Horse prophecy, that includes the entire journal account, at Read

So why does the White Horse prophecy have such an ability to hook more credulous members? I think it’s human nature. We all want to have a little of the Indiana Jones in us. We romanticize our church existence, fantasize that there is more to it than a two-year mission, counting members during sacrament meeting, home teaching, collecting fasts offerings and Gospel Doctrine lessons. We admire our faith and want its important to be inflated more in the world than it is. Also, let’s face it, the White Horse prophecy makes for great LDS conversation. But even Bruce R. McConkie, in his once-revered “Mormon Doctrine,” called it “false and deceptive.”

Other faiths are no different. Look at the rapture fantasies of fundamentalist Christians. Another example, that twists into hate and sin, is radical Muslims or — to a far lesser extent, radical Christians — killing infidels or abortionists.

In short, though, to the rest of the world, the White Horse prophecy can only embarrass the Mormon church on those occasions when it, for some reason or another, makes the media wires. And that has occurred with fringe Idaho gubernatorial candidate Rex Rammell, a Republican, calling for a Jan. 19 meeting — open only to 100 handpicked LDS priesthood holders — that will discuss the White Horse prophecy in detail. (Hat tip to Top of Utah Voices columnist Neal Humphrey) (Note: Rammell had a change of heart on making the meetings LDS Priesthood exclusive.)

Sigh.

“I am tired of people telling me that I can’t bring God and the Constitution into my campaign speeches. ... We are in America’s second Revolutionary War to save our freedom, which we paid for with blood. We need God’s help and I’m not ashamed to ask for it,” Rammell was quoted in 2010.

And, as Rammell explains in an Idaho Statesman article on his crusade, he is willing to discuss the issue with non-Mormons and expects them to join his efforts to defend constitutional principles. Read

Personally, I would like to see as many religions as possible involved any of these types of crusades that the Rammells of the world engage in. I believe in an equal distribution of outlandish theories.

As for his crusade, Rammell is probably a longshot toward bringing the White Horse prophecy into the Idaho statehouse. In 2008, he won only 5.4 percent of the vote in an independent candidacy for U.S. Senate. (Note: He didn't do too bad in 2010, gaining 26 percent of the vote but losing the GOP primary to then-incumbent Gov. Butch Otter.)

--- Doug Gibson

Baptisms for health were once more common than baptisms for the dead

 

Most of us know about the ubiquity of the LDS Church performing baptisms for the dead in church temples. In many locations there have been baptisms outside temples, either converts or children when they reach eight years. However, in the first half of the LDS Church’s existence, baptisms for health were a common procedure, both in LDS temples and outside. It’s a bit of Mormon history that seems to have been tossed aside.

In Volume 34 (2008) of The Journal of Mormon History, academics Jonathan A. Stapley and Kristine Wright, authors of “They Shall Be Made Whole:” A History of Baptism For Health,” dove into the practice in great detail. They noted its origins, scriptural support, the eager support of church leaders and members, certain rules associated with it, including anointing and prayers afterward, and its eventual drop in popularity and ultimate banning in 1922. The fascinating history occurred over 80-plus years.

As the authors note, baptisms for health were not unique to Mormons. Early Christian advocates noted scriptural evidence, including “The story of Elisha instructing Naaman to ‘wash in the Jordan seven times’ and the miraculous New Testament waters of Bethesda …” However, the rise of Protestantism in the early 19th century U.S. had generally discouraged baptism for healings. However, the Mormons, with their belief in a restoration of the Gospel and the miracles and practices of its earliest era restored, baptisms for health fit in quite well for the early saints. As Stapley and Wright note, “Early Mormons viewed healing, along with glossolalia and prophecy, as important evidence of the Restoration’s validity.”

What likely propelled baptisms for health as a major LDS practice was a statement, published in the periodical “Times and Seasons 2,” by Brigham Young, “An Epistle of the 12,” Nauvoo, October 12, 1841. In that epistle, Young clearly tagged baptismal fonts in the the temple as places “that when the sick are put therein they shall be made whole.” As the JMH authors note, “This vision of healing rituals being performed by the ancients highlights the early Mormon particularity of connecting themselves with great figures, places and activities of the Bible.”

With baptism for health being preached from the LDS pulpits, its popularity exploded. And  baptisms for health eventually were sanctioned outside temples as well. (A reason for this was the wooden font in Nauvoo bred diseases.) Stapley and Wright note that it was a common practice to carry ill persons to the river in Nauvoo to be baptized. Emma Smith, when she was very ill, reportedly was baptized for her health. Certain rules for baptisms for health were established. Following a biblical precedent, the authors write that an ill person being baptized for health needed to be baptized seven times. Many small children were baptized for health. One baptism for health apparently involved a three-month-old infant. Other seven-time baptisms occurred over the course of several days, rather than at one time.

As Stapley and Wright note, “when the Saints were expelled from Nauvoo, they carried their healing rituals with them,” including baptisms for health. Besides being practiced on the Mormon Trail to Utah Territory, baptisms for health occurred in the Pacific Islands and Great Britain, the authors write.

An interesting facet of early LDS baptisms for health, according to Stapley and Wright, is the use of baptisms for health as a tool to drive out evil spirits. There are examples in Journal of Discourses and “Millennial Stars.” Stapley and Wright write, “Several records attest to the use of baptism for health and anointing as a means of exorcism.”

In the Utah territory, baptisms for health became a periodic event for many LDS members, particularly women. With better quality fonts, the practice switched more to temples, as well as the Salt Lake City Endowment House. As the authors write, “Church members sought special healings in the temple fonts.” The practice often was a community event, done in conjunction with Fast Sunday. There were days set aside for baptisms for health at temples, add the authors.

In fact, the authors present data that shows baptisms for health to be the most common temple practice, outpacing endowments, sealings, ritual rebaptisms to re-affirm faith, etc. The authors include accounts of persons claiming to be healed as a result of the baptisms. That was the peak for baptisms for heath. In the 1890s, church leaders began formalizing temple procedures. One rule formulated “situated baptism for health … to be administered only according to the faith of participants.” The number of temple baptisms for health dropped considerably, more so after church leaders ended the once-common practice of rebaptisms for members. For most of the 19th century, rebaptism was a ritual for Utah temple dedications, but it was not for the 1896 Salt Lake City Temple dedication, the authors note.

As the new 20th century arrived, the LDS Church leadership would slowly but consistently move toward a more conservative leadership, particularly among younger apostles, such as Joseph Fielding Smith. As the authors note, a generation gap existed. Repeat baptisms, which were now regarded as making the ritual seem common, were discouraged. While baptism for health were not specifically discouraged like rebaptism, the edict affected its popularity. (The one temple where the practice remained popular well into the 1900s was in Logan, note the authors.)

However, after 1910, many church leaders (President Joseph F. Smith was a notable exception) began to see rituals of healing and other practices, such as drinking consecrated oil, as being tainted with kitsch. As Stapley and Wright note, “With improvements in modern medical science and Mormonism’s more general integration into the larger society, Church leaders begin to avoid ritualistic practices that, in turn, appeared increasingly magical.” Also, the younger church leaders were openly skeptical of “the historical validity of the practice,” the authors add. Supporters of baptism for health began to rely on tradition as a chief defense.

When Joseph F. Smith died in 1918, the new church leadership administration of Heber J. Grant continued to sanction the practice for several years, but placed new suggestions, such as encouraging members to have local elders come to their homes to do ordinances for health instead, a practice that remains common today. By 1921, the end for baptisms of health was foreshadowed by the church leadership’s announcement that healers would no longer be in LDS temples. The authors note that the church leadership’s disapproval of the growing popularity of charismatic religious preachers, many of whom claimed to be faith healers, adversely affected the fate of baptisms for health,

Finally, via a First Presidency announcement, baptisms for health were ended. The statement read in part: “We … remind you that baptism for health is no part of our temple work, and therefore to permit to become a practice would be an innovation detrimental to temple work, and a departure as well from the provision instituted of the Lord for the care and healing of the sick of his Church.”

That statement would have come as a big surprise to Brigham Young, given his and the rest of the LDS apostles’ hearty 1841 endorsement of the practice. However, baptism for health enjoyed a long run in the LDS Church, one that lasted more than four score years.

-- Doug Gibson

-- Originally published in StandardBlogs

Roadshows. Will they ever become the norm again in LDS wards?

Growing up in California, in my stake and ward the “roadshow” was a BIG DEAL. Months were spent preparing for a long night of a play and short acts.

I was quite young the first time I watched a roadshow. I can’t recall the main play, but I’ll never forget the Olio act (At that young age I heard it as the “Oreo Act.”) A young woman in our ward belted — and I mean belted — out a mean rendition of “The Boogie Woogie Bugle Boy of Company C.” Because of the act, I actually enjoy the song, and even find myself occasionally whistling the tune.

Going to the roadshow was always an enjoyable event. There were hundreds of Southern California members, crammed into the cultural hall, metal chairs set up in rows over the basketball court facing the stage, with the basketball hoop lifted up out of the way of spectators.

I was never in the main part of a roadshow, but I once wrote an starred in a short one-act play that I wrote. It was about Dracula going out for a late dinner and discovering that he had accidentally walked out into the middle of an eclipse. (I digress here to confess that I more or less stole the idea from a Woody Allen work in a book. Since I was about 13, did not know copyright laws, and my “play” played once for free and no longer exists, I hope forgiving readers will consider it an homage and not plagiarism.) 

Anyways, I got to die at the end and that was cool.

Later, as roadshows started to decline in ubiquity, our stake decided to have wards make silent movies. I got to write a comedy script about a sheriff who protects a town from a bad guy. I played the bad guy. The sheriff was inept; his girlfriend was the “crack shot” who saved the day at the end. It was fun; a real salute to the old silent comedians. still have a copy of the movie, filmed at an abandoned horse racing track. It's on Facebook here.

I hope roadshows become popular again in my stake. I know they still are in some wards and stakes because I can locate some on YouTube, a luxury we did not have in the 1970s and 1980s. 

The last roadshow I recall seeing featured my Long Beach, Calif. ward bishopric. The play was titled “It Came to Pass.” Our bishop and counselors entered the stage dressed in their Sunday best. They solemnly intoned, “it came to pass. It came to pass. It came to pass.” 

Then they quickly shed their pants, shirt, ties and suit coats to reveal athletic sweats underneath. The trio moved into a modified football formation. One counselor hiked a football to the bishop. The other counselor ran a pass pattern into the audience. The bishop threw him a pass. I can’t recall if he caught it.

Maybe it wouldn’t be the best idea in the world to bring back the roadshow. 😊

-- Doug Gibson

--- Originally published at StandardNET

Satan and Jesus Christ are ‘bros’ when Romney ran for president

 

(I wrote this piece more than 11 years ago. I like it, so I rescued it from Wayback purgatory. The photo above is of Romney in 2012 after he defeated Newt Gingrich in the Florida Republican presidential primary.)

I love this lead from an Idaho newspaper (Rexburg Standard Journal) covering an LDS fireside: “A top LDS religious leader gave a rare unscripted fireside to Brigham Young University-Idaho students Saturday.”

“Unscripted fireside?” With apologies to Orwell, that’s a delightful phrase. Why was it unscripted?

According to the article, it’s because M. Russell Ballard, a member of the church’s 12 Apostles, admitted that the LDS Church believes that Jesus Christ and Satan, Old Scratch himself, were brothers.

The following is from reporter Nate Sunderland’s article: “You remember Mr. (Mike) Huckabee (who was also vying to be the Republican candidate for president), who among other things said that Mormons believe that Jesus and the devil were brothers?” Ballard asked students. “Remember that? It went all over the media. “Well they are!” Ballard exclaimed to a laughing student body. “But they (the media and nonmembers) don’t understand that, because they don’t have the (LDS gospel) restoration. They don’t understand the spiritual relationship that … we are all sons and daughters of God, and that Lucifer was one of those and (that) he chose to use his agency in an unrighteous way.”

Back to this column: One of the ironies about being a Mormon is that a religion that is so progressive, eccentric and so different — and more interesting — than conventional, mainstream Christian religions is staffed by a conservative, button-down public relations-conscious, every-word-approved bureaucracy.

I concede that may be a smart move to manage a church of more than 10 million — discipline does have its advantages — but isn’t it interesting that the deepest journeys into LDS church doctrine are found in high priest group meetings, and not the semiannual general conferences? Trust me, we talk a lot about Christ and Satan being highly favored sons of Heavenly Father in the preexistence. But just so it’s clear, we think Old Scratch has fallen out of favor!

During the 2008 presidential campaign, it was easy to know when candidate Mitt Romney was being asked a question about LDS doctrine, such as where the Garden of Eden was. He had that deer in the headlights look, paired with a nervous, dismissive comment such as, “who told you we believe that!?” Of course Romney was partially derailed by the GOP’s own semi-fundamentalist pharisee, Mike Huckabee, blabbing that Mitt thinks Christ and Satan were brothers.

Since Mitt’s probably going to run again, maybe Elder Ballard is trying to pave the way for a smoother theological trail through Bible Belt Iowa. Are we far off from a brand new media campaign pitching Jesus Christ, the Great I Am, and Satan, the Son of the Morning Star, as onetime comrades in arms who went their separate ways?

Naah, not going to happen. But it’d make a heck of a movie.

-- Doug Gibson

In 1845, William Smith, Mormon apostles waged war in the LDS press

 

Originally published in 2013 at StandardBlogs

There’s an interesting article in the summer 2013 issue of the “Journal of Mormon History.” Christine Elyse Blythe has contributed a long article on the tenure of William Smith as church patriarch. William is generally considered in LDS history as a kind of “bad boy” of the Smiths, a “legacy apostle” who survived in the church while elder brother Joseph Smith was alive but was eventually kicked out of the church after he died.

There’s a lot of history in the article, “William Smith’s Patriarchal Blessings and Contested Authority in the Post-Martyrdom Church,” but what caught my interest was an intramural newspaper feud over who was best to lead the church a year after Joseph Smith had been murdered. William Smith, despite already shaky relationships with Brigham Young and the Quorum of the 12 Apostles, was named Presiding Patriarch of the LDS Church. It was a lucrative gig for Smith. Besides the high authority of being the church patriarch, William earned a buck per patriarchal blessing, according to Blythe. That doesn’t sound like much, but after 300 blessings over six months, William had earned roughly what a full-time laborer of that era would earn over half a year.

(I digress here to tell readers that receiving a patriarchal blessing is a rite of passage for faithful Latter-day Saints. Those born into an active LDS family usually receive a blessing, from a local patriarch, at the age of 15 or 16. The blessings are considered revelation from God. Indeed, many blessings are described as part of blessings one received in the pre-existence prior to birth. The blessings also provide a relationship to the recipient of their place in the House of Israel.)

In Smith’s time, the presiding patriarch of the LDS Church was considered an elite leader, comparable in rank to an apostle or prophet. Hyrum Smith had preceded William Smith as patriarch. As Blythe recounts, a careful reading of many of William Smith’s patriarchal blessings include words from Smith that assigned him as the LDS leader with the highest authority. As Blythe writes, “… in a blessing given to William A. Beebe, the patriarch concluded: ‘by the highest authority in the church of God I seal thee up to eternal life ...’ This phrase, ‘highest authority in the church’ appeared six times in William’s patriarchal blessings in just over one month.”

Patriarchal blessings, while recorded, are considered personal, and — as Blythe notes — it’s possible the subtle hints in William Smith’s blessings did not get much notice. However, William Smith made his intentions public with an essay in the LDS Church newspaper “Times and Seasons.” In the essay, “Patriarchal,” Blythe notes that William Smith cast himself as “a living martyr,” worthy of continuing in the same high, prophetic place in the post-martyrdom church as his slain brothers, Joseph and Hyrum.

William Smith’s essay was boosted by a testimonial to his claims by W.W. Phelps, an assistant editor at “Times and Seasons.” Phelps, who eventually followed Brigham Young to Utah, wrote that William is “governed by the spirit of the living God.” As Blythe notes, that phrase suggested an autonomy for Smith as patriarch. That was not a trial balloon that the LDS church’s leadership wanted out there.

So, as Blythe notes, Apostle John Taylor penned a rebuttal in the very next issue in the “Times and Seasons.” What Taylor focused on was the debate over whether William Smith was the “patriarch over the church” or “patriarch to the church.” Taylor was direct and to the point in letting church members know the answer. He wrote: “We have been asked, ‘Does not patriarch over the whole church’ place Brother William Smith at the head of the whole church as president? Ans. No. Brother William is not patriarch over the whole church; but patriarch TO the church, and as such he was ordained. The expression ‘over the whole church,’ is a mistake made by W.W. Phelps.”

Taylor, who of course was speaking for Brigham Young and the rest of the Quorum, made it clear what pecking order William Smith had to follow to remain in the Mormon faith. Nevertheless, William Smith remained in the church a while longer. Blythe notes that he gave nine “second blessings” as patriarch, an indicator that the publicity in “Times and Seasons” had boosted his claim.

But it was a matter of time before William Smith and the LDS Church, under Young and the Apostles, would have a divorce. Blythe relates that later in 1845, William Smith trumpeted a claim from Lucy Mack Smith, his mother, that she had had a revelation, with God saying “Thy son William he shall have power over the Churches …” and “… The presidency of the Church belongs to William ...” Soon afterward, Lucy Mack Smith clarified the “revelation,” saying it was just for her family. Around that time, William Smith threatened to leave the Mormons and take all the Smiths with him, adds Blythe. Smith later retracted that threat as well. By August, as Blythe notes, William Smith was complaining that “There seems to be a severe influence working against me and the Smith family in this place.”

Smith left the Mormons, was excommunicated and, like many other Mormon leaders who didn’t go to Utah, hopscotched among different branches of Mormonism. He tried a position with the James J. Strang “Strangites,” and later started his own church for a while, and had an alliance with the Lyman Wight branch in Texas. All that ended and improbably, William Smith was rebaptized as a Mormon in 1860. That failed to last as well. Eventually, Smith became a member of the Reorganized LDS church. Although the uncle tried to persuade his nephew, church leader Joseph Smith III to make him an apostle or presiding patriarch, he was unsuccessful. William Smith died in 1893.

The very short intramural newspaper battle between Smith, a sort of populist threat to the church led by Young and the apostles, and the rebuttal by John Taylor, which more or less ended Smith’s effort to become a Mormon leader, is fascinating to me as a journalist. Try to imagine today’s prominent Latter-day Saints waging a public relations battle — against each other — in “The Mormon Times,” “Church News,” or “The Ensign.”

It would never happen, of course. But it did 168 years ago, and it must have made for eager reading by Latter-day Saints.

Another excellent source for William Smith’s short tenure as LDS church patriarch is the summer 1983 issue of “Dialogue: A Journal of Mormon Thought.”

-- Doug Gibson

Do you have your own, personal Three Nephites experience?

We Mormons have our own personal religious lore; one that tops the list is the Three Nephites. A healthy percentage of members who make it to church more often than not either have their own personal Three Nephites tale or can relate at least one that has been passed onto them.

The Three Nephites are mentioned in The Book of Mormon as disciples of Jesus Christ who ask to remain on earth until Jesus Christ returns and convert souls for him. Christ says yes, which is the same answer he gives to John the Beloved in the New Testament.

(I digress here to wonder how often the Three Nephites and John the Beloved have met the past 1,977 years or so. Do they ever get tired of each other? Do they ever squabble? I couldn’t imagine being on my best behavior waiting for a guest who won’t tell us when he’ll ever return.)

Despite my occasional skepticism, I’m one of those who can boast of his own “Three Nephites experience.” But first, some more about the LDS folklore of the Three Nephites. Besides John the Beloved, the Three Nephites have parallels to The Wandering Jew, Catholic saints and even the Prophet Elijah. Although reports of Three Nephites activity are not — for good reason — official Mormon doctrine, their calling is mentioned in Mormonism’s most unique scripture. One who claims a literal belief in the Book of Mormon must agree that the three are still hanging around somewhere. The same goes for the Bible and John the Beloved.

The first Three Nephites tale I recall hearing is about an army officer on the front in World War II who gives a lift in his jeep to three wandering civilians. When he drops them off, one of the men asks what he can do to repay the officer. The officer flippantly replies, “Tell me when this war will end?” The man gives him a date. The officer thinks nothing of the answer until the war ends, and you guessed it, on the exact date the man told him!

There’s a million of these tales. In 1949, author Hector Lee published “The Three Nephites: The Substance and Significance of the Legend in Folklore,” Albuquerque, The University of New Mexico Press. Here are a couple of accounts that Lee collected:

• The Hitchhiking “ghost” Nephite, where an old hitchhiker was picked up by couple traveling to Grand Junction, Colo. It was 1944. The old hitchhiker was a whiz on current events. At the most desolate part of their journey, the hitchhiker insisted on being let out. Naturally the couple protested. The hitchhiker told them they would soon be hauling a dead body to Grand Junction. He then told them the exact date that World War II would end. Sure enough, the couple came upon a car wreck with a fatality and hauled the dead driver to Grand Junction. The war ended on the same date as well.

I mention this tale because it’s similar to the one I heard as a child. The setting had changed and there was no dead body and there were three hitchhikers instead of one. I imagine that as “Three Nephites sightings” are passed along over and over, the tale can change significantly.

• Here’s another Three Nephites tale Lee compiled with a lot of the supernatural included. Mrs. Aylda Abbott Squires of Wa Wa Springs, in Utah, recounts an 1874 experience when she was all alone on the homestead and a lone man came by and asked for food. Mrs. Squires was frightened but provided him a meal. The man blessed her and promised her that a pain she was feeling in her liver would go away and that she would never want for basic necessities. As he turned a corner leaving she followed to see where he had gone but the man had disappeared. She returned to her table and discovered the lunch she had seen him eat and drink was untouched. Later, her mother reminded her that her Patriarchal blessing had mentioned she would see one of the Three Nephites.

I just love these tales. They’re part of what makes Mormonism so interesting and unique.

So here’s my “Three Nephites” tale. It’s got more holes in it than that once-sacred garment with the tokens cut off that grandma uses for cleaning, but here it is:

• It was 1983, in Chiclayo, Peru. My senior companion and I were in a massive slum, thousands of people living in homes without electricity or water. We were searching for the home of a referral. The potential investigator’s name was Marcos. After traipsing through the dusty dirt streets for the better part of a day, we stopped to stare at a very peculiar sight. A pig was hog-tied, presumably moments away from the slaughter. You’ve never heard screaming until you’ve heard a hog-tied pig scream. A crowd had gathered to stare at the pig. For some reason a man standing a few feet away caught our attention. One of us, I can’t recall which, asked — for the 100th time — “Do you know where Marcos lives?”

The man casually made a fist, thumb out, and glanced and pointed over his back toward an alley with a few house inward. “He lives back there,” he said.

To sum up a long story, we met Marcos, baptized him and later were baptized about 10 or 11 of his family members. Soon after we left Peru, Marcos went on his own mission. I’m glad Marcos and his family helped me to meet one of the Three Nephites.

A footnote

That same day, during our first visit with Marcos, the pig stopped screaming. When we returned to the site, there was only a dark, dank-smelling wet stain where the pig once screamed.

It took me about 10 years to realize that it would have been an impressive encore if the wandering Nephite had taken a moment to save the pig.

-- Originally published in 2010 at StandardNET.

Long before Hatch became a Senate institution, there was Utah’s Sen. Smoot

(This post was first published at StandardNET in 2010.)

There’s a lot of talk about Sen. Orrin Hatch, who has served 34-plus years in the Senate and intends to go for 42 year in 2012, and former Gov. Mitt Romney, who gets the question of who will he serve if elected president? The Mormon Church or the U.S. nation? What’s interesting is, long ago, Utah Sen. Reed Smoot (seen above) faced some of these questions.


Smoot, who was in the Senate for 30 years, was handpicked, or more or less called to the job, by the First Presidency and Quorum of the 12 Apostles of the LDS Church. In fact, the monogamous Smoot was not only a Mormon, he was a member of the 12 Apostles. It’s unthinkable today that an LDS apostle would be elected to that high of an office, let alone sent there by the Brethren. However, there is apostle Ezra Taft Benson becoming President Eisenhower’s secretary of agriculture in the 1950s.

Smoot had to fight for years to be accepted into the Senate. It wasn’t so much for his “church calling” as it was to general suspicion about the Mormon Church’s commitment to the federal government and of course, the big issue, polygamy. He won that battle, though, and like Hatch, became a respected member of the U.S Senate. His trademark achievement was the Smoot-Hawley tariff act and Smoot eventually became chairman of the committee on finance.

In the October, 1960 issue of the Utah Historical Quarterly, Dr. Milton R. Merrill, then vice president of Utah State University, praised Smoot, who died in 1941. Despite Smoot’s status as apostle, Merrill says that he regarded himself as a Republican on a mission for the church. But it was more of a political mission, and Smoot loved his job as much as Hatch loves his today. Some positions of Smoot’s: He opposed prohibition; helped get Warren Harding nominated in a smoke-filled room; worked to get non-Mormons in Utah into the Republican Party; and he opposed the League of Nations.

Smoot would have stepped down if LDS Church Presidents Joseph F. Smith and Heber J. Grant had asked him to, but they didn’t. In fact, according to Merrill, the church leaders never requested Smoot vote a certain way. However, just as Hatch may face closure from a nation tired of economic recessions, Smoot’s tenure was prematurely ended in the 1932 Depression-era election, where he was upset by Democratic challenger Elbert D. Thomas. 

Smoot retired to finish his life as an apostle and died in 1941 at age 79. He is buried in Provo.

-- Doug Gibson

Utah's first serious presidential candidate — Christensen, not Romney

Utah’s first serious presidential candidate was not Mitt Romney, of course, or even Sen. Orrin Hatch, who ran a weak race in 2000 that ended after he received 1 percent in the Iowa caucus. 

I’ll bet most have no idea that 90 years ago, Utah fielded a presidential candidate that many newspapers — incorrectly — thought might have a shot at winning a few states. His name was Parley Packer Christensen. The Salt Lake City resident was a bachelor, a Unitarian, a former Salt Lake County attorney, and former candidate for U.S. Congress. He was also the Farmer-Labor Party’s 1920 nominee for U.S. president.

A fascinating article by Gaylon L. Caldwell from the October 1960 Utah Historical Quarterly provides loads of great historical information on Christensen’s candidacy. The Salt Lake Tribune mostly criticized and ridiculed Christensen as a defender of labor unions. The Deseret News afforded him more respect. However, according to the article, the Tribune predicted Christensen would carry six states.

Of course, history records that Christensen carried no states. In a days when polls were nonexistent, third parties still under-performed. On election day, Christensen tallied 265,411 votes, finishing fourth behind Republican Party winner Warren Harding, 16,152,200 votes, Democratic Party nominee James M. Cox, 9,147,353 votes, and Socialist Eugene V. Debs, who was in prison, with 919,799 votes. Finishing fifth was Prohibition Party candidate Aaron S. Watkins with 189,408 votes.

As Caldwell points out, “the final tally ... reinforced the old axiom of American politics that new parties begin with a burst of enthusiasm only to fade away.” There is a parallel between the Farmer-Labor Party of 1920 and the post-H. Ross Perot Reform Party. Once a dynamic personality or symbol leaves a third party, the bloom is gone.

How Christensen grabbed the Farmer-Labor nod is really interesting. As Caldwell recounts, it was big news in the summer of 1920 in Chicago at the Farmer-Labor convention, which was populated by a smorgasbord of political movements — left and right — looking for an alternative to the two main parties.

Christensen was a convention leader. There was a “committee of 48” that tried unsuccessfully to recruit a consensus candidate. That’s not surprising since two major contenders were ultra-right-wing automobile maker Henry Ford and the Socialist Debs.

Christensen, a persuasive leader, saw his opportunity and arranged alliances with lesser candidates. He finished second on the first ballot, which eliminated all but the two top finishers. On the second ballot, Christensen easily garnered the nomination. 

Christensen ran an energetic campaign and attracted nationwide press. In the Aug. 1, 1920 New York Times, reporter Charles Welles Thompson wrote, “The Republicans are getting a little uneasy over the unlimited activity of Parley Packer Christensen, the candidate of the Farmer-Labor Party. He seems a most virile and extensive person. ...”

Christensen also criticized the imprisonment of Debs, saying, “Mr. Debs may be utterly wrong in his ideas as how best to conduct the affairs of society, and so may I be and so may you, but my conception of liberty includes the right to think wrong.”

After reading Caldwell’s excellent account, I think another reason Christensen under-performed is that he was too moderate for a third party. Although clearly a liberal, he was not socialist enough to take many votes from Debs, but he was too liberal for Ford supporters, who returned to the Republican Party in the general election.

Nevertheless, Parley Parker Christensen is an individual worthy of our respect. I doubt, however, that his name is mentioned in any school rooms below the college level.

-- Doug Gibson

This column was previously published at StandardNet.

Ernest L. Wilkinson and the BYU tithing police fiasco

In a 2011 issue of Sunstone magazine, Gary James Bergera has a very interesting article, “The Monitoring of BYU Faculty Tithing Payments, 1957-1963,” that involves yet another historical nugget of mirth created by the university’s late president, Ernest D. Wilkinson. Wilkinson, upon assuming the presidency of BYU in the 1950s, was outraged that some BYU professors paid only a partial tithing, and some paid none at all.

(I digress here to admit that I too, was surprised that there were/are tithing shortfalls among BYU professors. I would have that “giving the Lord 10 percent” was something that one wouldn’t have to worry about at the Lord’s University. But it was, and had been for most of the 20th Century. Wilkinson was determined “to use an individual’s tithing history to help determine raises, promotions, and even continuing employment,” writes Bergera.

At one point, Wilkinson told LDS Church President David O. McKay that 27 percent of BYU faculty were either part tithing payers or paid no tithing at all. Wilkinson’s efforts, though, to get detailed reports of faculty tithing records descended into J. Edgar Hoover spoof when he encountered opposition from local bishoprics and stake presidencies. They understood better than Wilkinson the ethical aspects of the Law of Tithing, that taught that it was a private matter between a church member and his ecclesiastical leader. Eventually, Wilkinson was able to get the names of partial and non-tithe payers, but was stymied in his efforts to get specific details.

Wilkinson also received considerable opposition from faculty at BYU, who balked at having their academic credentials be determined by how much tithing they paid. Many faculty members, including department heads, resigned over the rule. At one point Wilkinson groused in his journal that it was primarily “English, political science and history” departments that were in opposition.

One faculty member who found himself in Wilkinson’s aim was Kent Fielding, a BYU instructor who had admitted he no longer had “a testimony of the Gospel.” When asked how he been approved to teach at BYU, Fielding replied that in his interview, apostle (and future LDS President) Harold B. Lee had asked only two questions: “Are you now or have you ever been a member of the Communist Party?; and, “Have you ever been unfaithful to your wife?”

Wilkinson confronted Lee on Fielding’s claim that his testimony had not been probed during his interview, and Bergera reports, using Wilkinson’s own notes, that it led fiery words between the BYU president and the LDS apostle.

Wilkinson wrote, “… I had told Brother Lee about this at the time, and Brother Lee, whose main weakness as far as I can see is that he cannot accept criticism, had interpreted it as serious criticism on my part of him…” Lee, according to Wilkinson’s recollections, sneered that the BYU president was “naive” if he was unaware that many BYU faculty did not have testimonies of the Gospel. Wilkinson further wrote, “He (Lee) was smarting very much under what I thought was my criticism of him for not having properly interrogated Brother Fielding.”

Fielding, after refusing to pay tithing and answer questions as a protest against Wilkinson’s policy, eventually had his employment terminated.

The policy that Wilkinson eventually crafted and tried to follow was that partial tithe payers would have their raises decreased by the amount they owed on a full tithing. For example, if Wilkinson determined that a professor had robbed the Lord of $600 in his tithing payments, a $1,000 raise for said professor would be decreased to $400. Professors not paying any tithing would be in danger of losing their employment at BYU. Wilkinson insisted more than once that no one was “forced” to pay tithing, while also insisting that any BYU professor who wanted to teach there would pay his tithing.

The policy prompted panicky attempts by some BYU faculty to try to turn back the clock. As Bergera reports, Wilkinson noted in his writings that one professor insisted in his interview that he had paid a full tithing.

When Wilkinson had the matter looked at, he discovered that the professor had gone to his bishop after the New Year and — much to the Bishop’s confusion — had begged that his tithe payment be applied retroactively.

Bergera estimates that over eight years, at least “two dozen (probably more) teachers were dismissed or resigned” due to church problems that had their genesis with Wilkinson’s tithing crackdown.

The BYU leader left the university in 1963 to run a failed U.S. Senate campaign. When he returned, he discovered a church leadership more resistant to the tactics he had advocated during his first term at BYU. As Bergera notes, “current BYU policy strictly prohibits the release of faculty tithing information to university administrators.”

Although I oppose any Wilkinsonian efforts to force tithing payments on any faculty, I am, I confess, surprised that anyone employed by the LDS Church (and that is the employer of BYU faculty) does not pay a full tithe. Maybe it’s because I’m a “born in the baptismal font member,” but before I read Bergera’s piece, I just assumed BYU workers were tithe payers the LDS Church Presiding Bishopric didn’t have to worry about.

-- Doug Gibson

-- Originally published at StandardBlogs.