‘Good Man Jesus and Scoundrel Christ’ both spiritual and blasphemous

An element that mars most religious fiction is that good and evil is established bluntly and quickly. Sunstone editor Stephen R. Carter has made a similar observation about Mormon literature. Nuance is sacrificed for the emotional satisfaction the reader expects and gets at the end. In a Jack Weyland short story, for example, we know the guy who sluffs off church isn’t going to get the virginal, hot-looking Mormon girl. In the “Left Behind” series, old Scratch himself may dominate for several volumes, but when all’s said and done, he’s joining the false prophet for a dip in the lake of fire.

It’s economics that drive these “happy endings.” Most readers of such fiction desire a belief to be reinforced. Religious-themed novels that really explore belief, and all its contradictions and perspectives, tend to languish unsold on shelves. After all, they’re not “faith-promoting.”

Of course, there’s also demand for polemics against religion. Atheism has its fervent believers, too. Philip Pullman, best known as the author of “His Dark Materials” series, has penned the slim, and quite spiritual, “The Good Man Jesus and the Scoundrel Christ, Canongate U.S., 2010,” a re-telling of The New Testament Gospels. Pullman’s title is ironic. Jesus is certainly selfless, but he isn’t always that pleasant of a fellow. And Christ isn’t really a scoundrel; he’s weak and serves as a Boswell for Jesus, who he envies. In Pullman’s novel, Christ allows himself to be manipulated by an “angel” who describes himself as one of “legion.”

But I’ve gotten ahead of myself. In Pullman’s ‘Gospel,” Mary gave birth to twins. The strong one she named Jesus. The weaker twin is Christ. Mary, believing Christ is the Messiah, favors him over Jesus. As a youth, Christ uses this maternal advantage to appear to be more pious than his rougher brother. As adults, Jesus — a much stronger-willed and more disciplined man than Christ — assumes the spotlight and Christ shrinks into the background. 

In Pullman’s account of Jesus’ 40-day fast, Christ is re-cast as Satan the tempter. Jesus rebukes Christ as forcefully as he does Satan in the traditional New Testament, but Christ’s reasons to feed Jesus are based in practicality, rather than a dark desire to see Jesus fail. In an interesting twist, Jesus even scorns Christ’s awed claim that he, Jesus, is divine.

The “angel” exploits Christ’s need for sanction and approval from authority by teaching that religion is better utilized as something for lesser mortals; a larger than reality “Church of God” run by wise men. The “angel” asks Christ to secretly follow Jesus around and record his deeds. In fact, the angel suggests that Christ embellish and change some accounts, suggesting that spiritual “truth” is often more important than historical accuracy.

In the most controversial passages, Jesus, in the Garden of Gethsemane prays to a God he no longer seems to believe in. Christ plays the role of Judas in setting up Jesus to be crucified by the Romans. Afterwards, the “angel” supplies Christ as “Jesus resurrected,” and then spirits him off to a foreign land where he assumes a new life with a wife and family and watches as his brother becomes a religious icon. These experiences turn Christ, ironically, into a man as cynical as Jesus eventually became.

Midway in Pullman’s novel Christ gradually becomes a more sympathetic figure and Jesus a more cynical figure. Jesus’ lament in the garden underscores his growing disillusionment with prayer and a belief in an expected Messiah. Christ’s spirituality improves initially as the “angel” brings the order he craves, but that order he craved turns corrupt, even criminal, as Jesus is led to death.

Pullman sees Jesus as just one of many prophets of that period, whose death would have quickly extinguished his 20 minutes of fame. It takes an organized conspiracy to turn him into a “resurrected Messiah,” who conveniently then disappears. In a humorous denouement, Christ realizes the mysterious “angel” was probably just a cunning businessman.

Pullman is a talented writer and his prose is both spare and lyrical; it reminds me of Naguib Mahfouz’s Islamic novel “The Harafish.” Is it blasphemous to Christianity? Perhaps, but that shouldn’t draw believers away from “The Good Man Jesus and The Scoundrel Christ.” Critiques, even polemics, against our most cherished beliefs should not be feared by anyone who wants to improve their mind. There are excellent defenses of Christianity and organized religion — C.S. Lewis’ “Mere Christianity” comes to mind — that provide balance to Pullman’s writings.

Pullman’s novel has nuance, it makes us think, and there are truths in it that the honest reader will acknowledge.

-- Doug Gibson

-- Originally published at StandardNET

Book of Mormon Musical songs may be profane, but that profanity has heart

 

Originally published by StandardBlogs in 2012.

(Note: I never managed to see Book of Mormon Musical. But I still listen to the score often.)

I haven’t seen “The Book of Mormon Musical” but if it gets to Utah I’ll pay the scores of dollars it will cost to see it. I enjoy listening to the DVD. It’s profane but profane with heart. Jon Stewart reflects the positive vibes by noting that the play spoofs a religion, yet also celebrates it.

I’ve listened to the CD dozens of times. As a returned missionary, I’m impressed by how satirists Matt Stone and Trey Parker can channel — even through the obvious farce — the yet-to-mature enthusiasm, scattered spirituality and fear-masquerading-as-confidence that defines most new missionaries.

When I was at the Missionary Training Center, we were taught the slogan “Keep the Gospel Simple Stupid.” We focused on learning the language, memorizing the missionary discussions, and force-feeding our spirituality to a high level. We adapted to a regimen that began at 6:30 a.m. and ended at 10:30 p.m. We learned to work, pray and study with a companion. My culture class — I was sent to The Peru Lima North Mission, including time in the Amazon Jungle — was curiously lightweight. From what I recall, it consisted mainly of a husband and wife dressed in touristy traditional mountain garb and llama sweaters.

In “Book of Mormon Musical,” missionary companions Elder Price and Elder Cunningham are sent to Uganda, where they find themselves all alone amidst warlords, clitoris cutters and people suffering from AIDS. Under these conditions, Elder Price, the strong alpha companion, wilts and leaves. That forces Elder Cunningham, the slow-witted junior companion, to “man up” and teach the natives as best he can. With sheer bluster, he achieves success teaching an “off-the-cuff” ludicrously obscene version of Mormon doctrine that involves Joseph Smith having sex with frogs and Brigham Young’s nose being turned into a clitoris. Meanwhile, Elder Price ends his crisis of faith, decides to just believe and storms back into the warlord’s camp preaching with Old Testament fervor. The play ends with the natives, now missionaries, teaching the bastardized, profane, obscene “Gospel According to Arnold Cunningham.”

The more interesting character is Elder Price, played by Andrew Rannells. In at least two songs, “You and Me, But Mostly Me,” and “I Believe,” he captures aspects of the missionary experience. In the first song, sung with the amiable fool Elder Cunningham, Elder Price is full of the faux confidence that’s packed with equal parts cockiness and fear. With a passive, worshipful lesser companion, he’s ready to achieve missionary greatness.

“It’s something I’ve forseen.
Now that I’m nineteen,
I’ll do something incredible,
That blows God’s freaking mind!”

Throughout the song, Elder Cunningham chirps how pleased he is that he can play second fiddle to Elder Price’s greatness. It’s a sentiment Elder Price is wholeheartedly in agreement with, as he concludes with:

“And there’s no limit to
What we can do
Me and you.
But mostly me!”

After a spurt of arrogant, fear-driven bravado, Elder Price suffers culture shock and dismay at how unenthusiastic most are to his message — a reaction, albeit to a lesser degree, for missionaries. Again, this is farce. In the real world, an inexperienced Elder Price would not be tossed, along with Elder Cunningham, alone as a pair into a dangerous environment. His reaction: He decides to take off to Orlando, where he feels the Lord should have sent him in the first place. After undergoing some heavy-duty guilt — a shared feeling for many active Latter-day Saints who try to live a religion that assigns degrees of salvation based on works — he surrenders to faith, and achieves his best missionary success with a full-throated, skepticism-be-damned testimony of various LDS doctrines, conventional or otherwise. An example from “I Believe”:

“You cannot just believe part way,
You have to believe in it all.
My problem was doubting the Lord’s will
Instead of standing tall.

I can’t allow myself to have any doubt.
It’s time to set my worries free.
Time to show the world what Elder Price is about!
And share the power inside of me…

I believe that God has a plan for all of us.
I believe that plan involves me getting my own planet.
And I believe; that the current President of The Church, Thomas Monson, speaks directly to God.
I am A Mormon,
And, dang it! a Mormon just believes!”

Being a missionary is hard work. It involves something else that was drummed into us at the MTC — the slogan “Capture the Vision”: Elder Price’s transition to successful missionary is to eliminate doubt, for at least two years. His fuel is faith; he thrives on faith. His optimism is the sizzle that sells the faith. He’s captured the vision.

A lot of Mormons have criticized “Book of Mormon Musical”; it’s inaccurate to a fault, it makes fun of LDS beliefs; it spoofs, for very vulgar laughs, doctrines and characters in LDS history that are treated with reverence by faithful members. But, Jon Stewart is right. It’s a simple, stupid, but profound declaration of how faith, and just believing, can bring meaning into many lives.

“It’s so good it makes me $%^%*&^ hate it,” Stewart told Stone and Parker, describing the message as “sweet.”

It is; faith is sweet; to believe with enough faith to touch lives is a good thing. To gain courage to change lives for the better is sweet. And that’s why “Book of Mormon Musical,” proudly R-rated, is worth listening to.

-- Doug Gibson

Doubt, rather than knowledge is most compatible with faith

 

Michael Vinson, of Salt Lake City, a master’s graduate of the Divinity School of the University of Cambridge, has a fascinating essay in a past issue of Sunstone. Titled, “The Crisis of Doubt in the Church,” (read here) it offers the proposal that “we formulate a new view of faith and doubt, one that recognizes the latter as an integral part of testimony.”

As has been mentioned in media reports, there is a trend of apostasy in the LDS Church, including “some of the most educated and highest income earners,” as Vinson relates from anecdotal sources. I’d add, citing anecdotal evidence, that many others are young adults who spent their childhoods as active members of the church. Vinson notes that a misunderstanding between faith, knowledge and doubt can hinder efforts to counsel members whose faith is tried and are seeking questions relating to doctrine or LDS Church history.

To get to the nugget, Vinson is arguing that we need to give the acknowledgment of doubt more respect, and to regard it as a major component of faith, rather than a weakness. He writes, “The underlying problem is not the level of a member’s church activity but the fact that they have bought into a false dichotomy about the relationship between faith and doubt … suggesting that the effective exercise of faith requires that one have zero doubt.”

Vinson is on to something here. He quotes Alma 32:18, “for if a man knoweth a thing he hath no cause to believe.” In short, we are commanded to have faith, which is something not known. “As Vinson writes, “… if the truthfulness of the plan of salvation and the Church can actually be known, then faith is unnecessary. But since faith is the first principle of the gospel (and therefore necessary), we can conclude that it is certain knowledge, not doubt, that is the opposite of faith.”

Vinson suggests that members of the church embrace a union of faith and doubt, as a way to “believe something” via faith rather than “know something,” which really doesn’t take faith. He argues, convincingly in my opinion, that “it is our emphasis of testimony as a knowing experience rather than as a faith experience that causes our angst.”

The author also cites Mark 9:24, as an example of faith and doubt being in harmony. “And straightway the father of the child cried out with tears, ‘Lord I believe; help thou mine unbelief.’”

Knowledge, as well as perfection, are ends, not journeys. Faith is a journey that includes doubt and obedience. Christianity, and many other faiths, demand that we subject our will, and reason, to an unseen deity. In the LDS faith, we are asked to sustain men as senior representatives of Christ’s church. These are actions that cannot be proven. To say they can is deceiving. They demand faith. Even in times we may doubt there is a loving God or a man who speaks with God, I believe our faith in those things are more powerful than the rhetorical “I know” uttered for the same criteria.

If persons struggling with the claims of any religion, Mormon or otherwise, were told that these feelings are not a spiritual weakness, but a natural, and healthy, component of faith, there might be fewer apostasies. However, that requires tremendous patience, from parents, mentors, siblings and ecclesiastical leaders, such as bishops. Religious beliefs are so bedrock to many of us that to witness a loved one question those beliefs results in hostility. Even the late LDS prophet Spencer W. Kimball reached a point with his eldest son, Spence, a skeptic of Mormonism, where to maintain a relationship the father had to quit talking with the son about his church standing.

-- Doug Gibson

-- Originally published in 2013 at StandardBlogs.

LDS writer Carter’s essays exploit the tension between right and wrong

There’s a furtive thrill in reading honest Mormon writing because we encounter characters, or better yet, real people — who aren’t cliches or caricatures — wrestling with the same doubts that everyone experiences but is so rarely talked about in the three-hour block called church on Sunday. Part of the thrill is realizing that honest LDS writing is still frowned on by many who should know better.

Stephen Carter, the editor of Sunstone, has a book of essays published by Provo’s Zarahemla Books. “What of the Night” deals with many subjects, including death, Carter’s relationship with an inactive brother, non-member neighbors and fishing, mission experiences, and trying to come to terms with what having the priesthood means. The essays are effective because Carter doesn’t telegraph his intentions in advance. He’s not preaching to readers. He’s relating experiences to Mormonism, telling us how it went with him. Although readers will likely not have equal experiences, they will have had similar experiences that provided the same emotions. If an honest reader can stand honest writing, writer and readers can share empathy from the experiences.

I was particularly moved by Carter’s two-essay tribute on the final years of Mormon academic Eugene England’s life. My communication with England was not even as an acquaintance. As BYU newspaper editor, I used to get a lot of feedback from him and his family. The England that Carter knew well — intelligent, liberal, motivated, impulsive and with an eager knowledge of studying the Gospel — fits what I recall of the man.

Carter captures a lesson I learned from England’s example perfectly when he talks of “Gene’s commitment to Joseph Smith’s concept of ‘proving contraries.’ When one proves contraries, Gene always argued, you aren’t doing so to identify what is right and what is wrong but to experience the tension between them. It is the experience of dwelling in this tension that makes you wiser.”

The “tension” that Gospel questions provides my mind is what keeps me a believing member of the LDS Church. I fear that if I had avoided confronting the endless arguments against God or the LDS Church I would have left spirituality long ago. From England’s example, I realize that my outspoken atheist friends, or scholars such as Fawn Brodie or Will Bagley, are as important to my relationship with God and my spirituality, as The Book of Mormon, the Holy Bible, or the works of Parley P. Pratt. There’s a certain irony that a late friend of mine who spurned any independent LDS publications and took a special interest in vilifying England left the church while England himself died a faithful member. If tensions are not explored, little of value is learned, and whatever faith exists is soft.

It hurt to reads from Carter about England’s slow demise due to brain cancer, or the hateful comments he received from men he revered as representatives of Jesus Christ, but I’m glad he and many others provide us material to enrich our lives.

All of Carter’s essays are thought-provoking. I particularly enjoyed “The Weight of Priesthood,” that explores his feelings of doubt that he could provide power and testimony to others during his youth, mission, and post-mission life. Any priesthood holder who has been given the task of blessing a seriously ill person can understand the doubts and weight associated with such responsibility.

-- Doug Gibson

-- Originally published in 2010 on StandardBlogs

Letter to a Doubter important essay from Mormon scholar Givens

LDS author and scholar Terryl Givens’ “Letter to a Doubter” has been widely circulated since he presented the essay/lecture in a speech to a Mormon fireside. The push to acknowledge doubt in one’s spiritual life, indeed to regard the “absence of certainty” as a component of true faith, has gained traction. In LDS General Conference, Apostle Jeffrey R. Holland told those that believe, but do not know, that they are following Christ’s counsel, who said, “Be not afraid, only believe.” (Read)

Givens’ essay is fascinating, and ideally suitable for this era, which is seeing apostasies that result from intense, appropriate scrutiny to long-held assumptions. He begins by pointing out that some “doubts … are predicated on misbegotten premises.” As an example he relates the doubt that troubled late LDS leader B.H. Roberts, who fretted over the many languages of the American Indians. Roberts’ error, which he shared with many church leaders, was assuming that the Book of Mormon spanned the entire Americas. Givens writes, “Nothing in the Book of Mormon suggests that Lehi’s colony expanded to fill the hemisphere. In fact, … the entire history of the Book of Mormon takes place within an area of Nephite and Lamanite habitation some 500 miles long and perhaps 200 miles wide.“

The money quote from Givens is this: “You see, even brilliant individuals and ordained Seventies can buy into careless assumptions that lead them astray. That Joseph Smith at some point entertained similar notions about Book of Mormon geography only makes it more imperative for members not to take every utterance of any leader as inspired doctrine.” For longstanding Mormons, that is not necessarily an easy transition. Authority is big in the church, and the words of a general authority, let alone an apostle or prophet, can be a debate-finisher.

But understanding that all people are fallible, as well as a realization that doubt is a component of true faith, are main themes of Givens’ advice. It’s well-needed, because, the LDS Church is losing young adults who are confronted, in an Internet-archived world, with contradictions that can easily dent weak faith that relies on claims of certainty.

Givens offers five components of belief that can lead to doubt. In The Prophetic Mantle, he reminds readers that the Scriptures, including The Bible, are full of prophets who err. They include Abraham. Moses, Jonah, and Paul. Givens writes, citing LDS Prophet Spencer W. Kimball’s repudiation of Brigham Young’s Adam-God heresy as an example, “… when Pres. Woodruff said the Lord would never suffer his servants to lead the people astray, we can only reasonably interpret that to mean the prophet will not teach us any soul destroying doctrine—not that they will never err.” Again, this addresses the incorrect assumption that whenever a prophet speaks, he is absolutely correct. This weak idea is easily disproved — just read many of Brigham Young’s discourses — but it can do damage to persons who demand no errors in their belief.

Another issue Givens addresses is the mistaken idea that God was silent on issues of theology, and that the Christian church was inactive, for centuries prior to 1820, when Joseph Smith received the First Vision. Instead, Givens urges those with doubts to see Smith’s mission not as starting over, but “that of bringing it all into one coherent whole, not reintroducing the gospel ex nihilo.”

The third part of Givens’ essay addresses the idea of “Mormon Exclusivity,” or the assumption that in a world of several billion, a few million Mormons have a “monopoly on salvation.” Givens then points out something that I deeply appreciate about my religion, that it offers salvation to virtually all of God’s children. He writes, “… the most generous, liberal, and universalist conception of salvation in all Christendom is Joseph Smith’s view.” Givens stresses the theology that “here and hereafter, a multitude of non-Mormons will participate in the Church of the Firstborn.”

The final two points of Givens’ essay are a rebuttal to the idea that organized religion is unnecessary and the misbegotten assumption that belief automatically brings personal satisfaction and personal revelations of truth. He explains that the gospel of Christ is a message that invites inclusion, and sharing, and spiritual sociality that exists on the earth, will exist in the afterlife. He writes, “In this light, the project of perfection, or purification and sanctification, is not a scheme for personal advancement, but a process of better filling — and rejoicing in — our role in what Paul called the body of Christ …”

As for the personal feelings of failure, disappointment, despair, and general unhappiness, traits that do not go away even when we profess a belief, Givens advises “three simple ideas: be patient, remember and take solace in the fellowship of the desolate.”

As Givens continues, “Patience does not mean to wait apathetically and dejectedly, but to anticipate actively on the basis of what we know; and what we know we must remember.”

Memory is a powerful component of faith and belief. One reason we are taught to gather in organized churches is to participate in the Sacrament, where we remember what Christ’s sacrifice has done for us.

And, as Givens relates, membership in the Society of the Desolate is something to be proud of. Its members include Mother Teresa, whom Givens quotes, said “I am told God loves me — and yet the reality of darkness and coldness and emptiness is so great that nothing touches my soul. … Heaven from every side is closed.”

If we take nothing else from “Letter to a Doubter,” please understand that even the most spiritual feel spiritually alone, not rarely but often. That too, is a test of faith.

In his conclusion, Givens urges that we be “grateful” for our doubts. He adds, “I am grateful for a propensity to doubt because it gives me the capacity to freely believe. … An overwhelming preponderance of evidence on either side would make our choice as meaningless as would a loaded gun pointed at our heads.”

I lack the talents Givens possesses to do justice to his discourse/essay, so I urge readers, again, to read it carefully. It’s important that we not allow our doubt to be exploited by others, but use it as an advantage designed to strengthen our spiritual beliefs.

(Letter to a Doubter can be purchased for 99 cents on Kindle.)

-- Doug Gibson

-- Originally published at StandardBlogs

Orson F. Whitney biography captures the contradictions of faith

Orson F. Whitney, an apostle for The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints for almost a quarter century in the early part of the 20th century, is perhaps best known today for a 1929 speech delivered a little more than a year before his death.

As Dennis Horne, author of the biography, “The Life of Orson F. Whitney,” Cedar Fort Inc., notes, at the April 1929 LDS General Conference, Whitney promised faithful parents that their wayward children would be saved if they, the parents, remained faithful to their spiritual covenants. “Pray for your careless and disobedient children; hold on to them with your faith. Hope on, trust on, ’till you see the salvation of God,” Whitney promised in his discourse.

As Horne mentions, Whitney was certainly thinking of his eldest son, Horace “Race” Whitney, who had strayed from his parents’ faith. Race Whitney, a journalist and hopeful playwright, had been married and divorced twice -- to the same woman -- before he died of causes related to alcoholism at age 28.

Whitney is frankly more of a Wikipedia entry than a well-known historical figure of Mormonism.

Horne has affectionately focused on a life that bridged early Utah Mormonism to 20th century growth of the religion (1855-1930).

Using mostly the subject’s diary entries and autobiography, the author has constructed a life story interesting as much for its contradictions and secrets as for Whitney’s several-decades devotion to Mormonism. After a rocky start to adulthood, Whitney -- the son of Horace K. Whitney and Helen Mar Kimball, plural wife to Joseph Smith Jr. -- served a mission to Ohio and Pennsylvania at the age of 21. 

Now entrenched in his family faith, a new Salt Lake City bishop, Whitney married his first wife Zina Beal Smoot, and a year later, the new father was shipped to a second mission across the Atlantic Ocean to England where the first contradictions and secrets of Whitney’s life are revealed.

As Horne notes, Whitney was an emotional man, susceptible to praise and flattery. He also was a literary man, who would later write a four-volume History of Utah, two novel-size poems, and ghost write many articles for LDS leaders.

In England, Whitney entered a mission that was rife with dysfunctional behavior. The mission president, LDS apostle Albert Carrington, was later excommunicated for adultery while serving as mission leader and another missionary, Charles W. Stayner, was preaching a version of Mormonism that included reincarnation. During the mission, Whitney apparently made an energetic attempt to make a 16-year-old girl convert his plural wife, but was stymied by her mother’s objections.

As Horne relates, Whitney became a convert of Stayner’s theories for almost two decades, and was a driving force of a semi-secret Mormon group that discussed reincarnation and devised strategies to make Stayner the eventual prophet of the LDS Church. In fact, as his devotion to Stayner increased, Whitney partially supported his friend at the expense of his own family, and even lobbied LDS Church President Lorenzo Snow on reincarnation and Stayner.

During much of this time, Whitney was both a bishop and assistant church historian, as well as a noted author and poet in Utah. While it’s likely his long flirtation with reincarnation delayed his calling as an apostle, it never seemed close to harming his church membership, even as apostles and others publicly denounced the reincarnation doctrine.

It’s hard not to compare Whitney’s late 19th century obsession with changing the church’s position on reincarnation with the current Ordain Woman movement. The former, of course, did not lead to excommunication. Eventually Stayner, still a member of the church, died and soon afterward Whitney recanted his divergent beliefs, which essentially paved his way to an apostleship.

Horne’s biography is hampered because Whitney destroyed and edited large portions of his diary as he grew older. Examples of tampered diary entries include his relationships with Stayner, the English convert teen, some entries on reincarnation, and emotional affairs with some women (most notably Mary Laura Hickman) that Whitney would have clearly chosen as plural wives had he been allowed.

After the Second Manifesto of 1904, the LDS church hierarchy cracked down on polygamy, severely disciplining those who continued the principle. After he became an apostle in 1906, Horne notes that Whitney had the unpleasant task of disciplining longtime church members for polygamy, including former apostle and mentor John W. Taylor.

Whitney still believed in polygamy privately. There also is another confidante of Whitney’s, named “Dick,” who may have had the same Svengali-like effect on the apostle that Stayner once had. As with other potentially controversial aspects of his life, much of that subject was self-censored.

Before his first wife died in 1900, Whitney had one plural wife, Mary (May) Minerva Wells, the sister of a woman he had loved as a youth who had died. They had two children quickly but then were childless, although they stayed married until Whitney’s death. Frankly, there is not much of May in the diaries that Horne shares in his biography (Mary Laura Hickman is far more often on Whitney’s mind, for example) and one suspects that the couple’s relationship may have been strained.

Whitney’s health began to fail when he was called to be the LDS European Mission president in the early 1920s. The strain of dealing with a media assault on Mormonism in that country and added health problems to his prostate and kidney left him an invalid who could not even read by the time he returned to Utah. He regained his strength and served admirably as an apostle for the rest of his life.

In another example of his life of bridging generations, he was one of the first LDS leaders to often speak on KSL Radio. He died of pneumonia about a month after giving his final conference talk in April 1930.

Horne’s biography is an affectionate account of a man who deeply loved his religion and the men who led it. A bishop for three decades and apostle for 24 years, he expended all his talents, including writing and speaking, for his faith. As the book notes, he had failings and crisis of faith. That makes him real, and much preferable to the plaster saints that are sometimes constructed in hagiographies.

The biography is available here.

-- Doug Gibson

Originally published at StandardNET