The Work and the Glory (119 page)

Was that what it would take to restore the Saints to their rightful place in Zion? The Lord shaking the earth until the Missourians felt the power of his might?

Lift up your heads, ye Saints, in peace,
The Savior comes for your release;
The day of the redeemed has come;
The Saints shall all be welcomed home.

Jessica sighed inwardly, a deep sadness coming over her. What power could soften Joshua’s heart to the point where he could be welcomed home in the presence of God? She shook her head. She was not sure there was any.

The choir finished and sat down. President Rigdon stood and bowed his head. Jessica followed suit, as did the rest of the congregation.

“Our Father who art in heaven,” he began, his voice now somber and filled with awe, “hallowed be thy name.”

Suddenly Jessica stiffened. As President Rigdon continued, invoking the Lord’s blessings on the proceedings of the day, it seemed that his voice suddenly changed. Then she realized it wasn’t him. It wasn’t his voice at all. It was something inside of her. She was feeling the most peculiar sensation. It started in her chest and radiated outward rapidly, going out to the tips of her fingers, and shooting down into her feet. It was the most wonderful thing she had ever experienced. Her whole body was tingling.

She felt Mary Ann stir beside her, and cracked one eye open for a moment. Mary Ann had her hands out in front of her, staring at them. Immediately Jessica understood. Mary Ann was experiencing the same thing she was. Then she saw that Becca, on the other side of Mary Ann, was looking at the two of them, her eyes filled with wonder. She felt it too. Without a word, the three of them were suddenly holding each other’s hands. On the other side of Jessica sat Lydia, who now leaned against her. Jessica turned. Lydia was crying, tears of joy streaming down her face. With her other hand, Jessica reached out for her.

As President Rigdon continued, they sat there like that, these four Steed women, sitting shoulder-to-shoulder, holding each other’s hands tightly, thrilling to the sensation that was sweeping through each of them.

Becca Steed caught a movement out of the corner of her eye and started a little. President Rigdon had closed his sermon, and stepped back for a moment. Beside her, her father was reaching into the pocket of his vest. He pulled out his watch and flipped back the cover. She stretched a little, then stared in amazement. It was nearly twelve o’clock!

She couldn’t believe it. After his invocation President Rigdon had announced another choir number. When they finished he stood to deliver his sermon. That would have been—she calculated quickly—about nine-twenty. She sat back, almost stunned. He had spoken for two and a half hours!

President Rigdon had been, at one time, a Campbellite preacher before the missionaries had come to Ohio, and he was well renowned for his oratory gifts. But if anyone had tried to tell Rebecca before this moment that she would sit for two and a half hours so mesmerized that she was barely conscious of the passage of time, she would have laughed aloud. Now she simply sat and marveled.

President Rigdon chose as his text the scripture from the eighth chapter of Matthew in which it is recorded that Jesus said, “Foxes have holes, and the birds of the air have nests; but the Son of man hath not where to lay his head.” He developed it powerfully, showing that in spite of the many meetinghouses which were built by the various denominations to provide worship places, there was nowhere a house that the Lord could call his own.

Becca had wept as Sidney recounted the sacrifices and the hardships the Saints had experienced as they built out of their poverty this magnificent structure so that the Lord would have a house he could call his own. He also pointed out that for the most part the people of Jesus’ time had rejected him and ignored his teachings. The same was happening now. That really hit Becca hard. Had she lived in Jerusalem back then, would she have followed the Master? Would she have been one who listened? Or would she have been part of the crowd that screamed, “Crucify him! Crucify him!” Right then and there she vowed that she would make it her lifelong goal to listen to the words of Christ and accept them, no matter where they took her.

Mary Ann was also deeply stirred by President Rigdon’s message. When he stepped back she felt a pang of disappointment. How she loved to hear the gospel, especially when it was taught with such power and clarity.

President Rigdon took a sip from a glass of water, then stepped forward again. “Brothers and sisters, we will now sustain Brother Joseph Smith as our prophet and seer,” he said. “We will do this by calling upon the quorums of the priesthood to manifest their support, followed by the full congregation.”

As President Rigdon called for the quorums to stand one by one, Mary Ann’s mind jumped back to those first days in Palmyra and Fayette. She still remembered the distinct thrill of being in the home of Peter Whitmer, Sr., on the day the Church was organized. She had looked around at those assembled, and marveled. There had been about fifty there. Fifty! She turned her head as another group of priesthood brethren rose to their feet, a great sense of awe swelling inside her. Here in one room there were nearly twenty times that number, and this only represented about half of those who wanted to get in, and a tenth of the total membership of the Church. What would six more years bring? Ten? Twenty?

“The sustaining of Brother Joseph by the priesthood quorums has been unanimous in the affirmative,” Sidney was saying. “Will the congregation now signify your willingness to accept him as our prophet and seer.”

As one, the entire congregation, about a thousand people, came to their feet.

“Thank you.” President Rigdon waited until the noise of the congregation being seated again died. “Are there any who oppose this?”

His eyes swept around to watch, but no one stood. Sidney grunted his satisfaction. “Thank you. We shall now ask the congregation to join with the choir in singing another hymn by Brother Phelps, one of our leaders in Zion. It is hymn number eighteen in your hymnals, ‘Now Let Us Rejoice in the Day of Salvation.’ It will be sung to the tune of ‘Hosanna.’ After the song, we will take a twenty-minute intermission before proceeding.”

Mary Ann opened the small book and found the place. None of the hymns had music, only words. They were sung to various familiar tunes, sometimes the same hymn being sung to different music. This is why the tune had to be designated. This particular hymn was rapidly becoming a favorite among the Saints. It was definitely one of Mary Ann’s favorites. And as the choir director raised his arms, then led out, she could not follow. Her eyes suddenly blurred as she read the first two lines. “Now let us rejoice in the day of salvation, no longer as strangers on earth need we roam.”

She turned and glanced at Jessica and Nathan and Lydia. Oh,
yes!
she thought.
Now let us rejoice!
Here she stood, in Kirtland, in the temple of God, with her family around her.

Not that everything was perfectly in order. Her rejoicing was always tempered with a touch of sorrow. Mostly that sorrow came for Joshua. He was far away, in every sense of the word. She had been shocked into numbness when Nathan finally told her what had happened that night in Jackson County. He had not asked her to stop praying for Joshua, as he had threatened. In fact he begged her to continue. She did, of course. How could she not? She and Nathan had written a letter to Joshua over a month ago. But she was without hope, for whenever she closed her eyes in prayer for Joshua, the image of Nathan’s scarred flesh came back to her, and she knew that something down deep inside Joshua had died. But she had Jessica and Rachel. That meant a lot.

Melissa was another source of concern. Carl, who had been so patient, so accepting when first they were married, was becoming difficult about the Church. At first it had just been quiet resentment at Melissa’s being gone, but in the last few months he had started to openly oppose her involvement. When Melissa requested permission to accompany the family to the temple dedication, Carl had flatly refused. They were going to his parents’ church services this Sabbath. They had already promised. Normally Melissa did not push these things, but the dedication meant a great deal to her. Carl did not bend, not even to her tears and pleading. More and more, Melissa was simply letting her activities slip; it was easier that way. But it was not a good sign, and Mary Ann worried about the situation each day.

She turned her head and looked the other way. Here was Becca—sweet, lovely Rebecca, all that a mother could hope for. Mary Ann’s eyes lifted to her husband now. His head was back proudly, and he was singing with all the fervor of his soul. Her tears overflowed now. She had once nearly given up hope on this man, convinced that he had no spiritual inclinations. She had once cried in despair, because he refused to let her have her own copy of the Book of Mormon. Now he led out with the children each day in the reading of it.

Now let us rejoice!
Mary Ann Steed threw back her head and sang, lifting her voice to join with the others in praise to God, unashamed now of the tears that stained her cheeks.

Following the intermission, Joseph stood up and took over the role of conducting the meeting. He gave a short address of exhortation, then led the quorums and the congregation in the sustaining of the various officers and quorums of the Church, beginning with the First Presidency and the Quorum of the Twelve, all of whom were sustained as prophets, seers, and revelators.

As he continued, moving through the quorums, having the people sustain the presidencies of each, Benjamin watched the men who were being named. Here were some of the great men of the kingdom, he thought. In addition to Joseph and Sidney, there was Joseph’s father, Joseph Smith, Sr., and the Prophet’s brother Hyrum. Oliver Cowdery, David and John Whitmer, William Phelps, Frederick G. Williams, Edward Partridge, Newel K. Whitney.

On one side of the Melchizedek Priesthood pulpits sat the members of the Quorum of the Twelve. Here too there was much that impressed Benjamin. Thomas B. Marsh, David Patten, Brigham Young, Heber C. Kimball, Parley Pratt, Orson Hyde, two of John Johnson’s sons. Everywhere he looked, the leaders the Lord had chosen surrounded him.

As Joseph finished and they sang another hymn, Benjamin felt himself overcome by a strange melancholy. The words of the hymn, by Isaac Watts, spoke of Zion being a thrice happy place and of the gospel’s “joyful sound,” but it did not stir him. The sense of sadness settled in with all the more power.

When Joseph stood to read the prayer of dedication, Benjamin thought that would help. The previous evening, Benjamin had seen Sidney Rigdon and he had told Benjamin that earlier that day Joseph had received the dedicatory prayer by revelation. Benjamin had come specifically anticipating hearing it.

And it was a wonderful prayer, stirring and memorable. Joseph expressed deep gratitude for God’s goodness to his people and asked that he would now accept the temple. He noted that the Saints had built it through great tribulation, so that the Savior could have a place where he might manifest himself unto the people. He prayed that the blessings previously promised might be poured out, now that the Saints had fulfilled the Lord’s commands. He prayed that Church leaders, members, and the leaders of nations would all be blessed and that the promises about the gathering of scattered Israel might now come to pass. He prayed that, as the people entered this sacred house, all of their incomings and all of their outgoings might be in the name of the Lord, that it might be kept holy.

It was a wonderful, inspired and inspiring prayer, but it did little to lift the cloud that had settled in upon Benjamin Steed. When Joseph said amen and the congregation echoed it, Benjamin hardly lifted his head.

“My brothers and sisters,” Joseph said, “the choir shall now sing a hymn written specifically for this occasion by our own Brother William Phelps. It is found in your hymnals, number ninety, if you wish to follow the words.”

Next to Benjamin, Becca opened their hymnal and found the page. Brother Davis, the choir director, stepped forward and raised his arms. The organ began the first strains. Benjamin looked away as the director gave the singers the downbeat and they began to sing.

The Spirit of God like a fire is burning!
The latter-day glory begins to come forth.

Benjamin’s head came up sharply. When they had entered the temple that morning, Joseph had said it was a day of Pentecost. Benjamin had heard Joseph say something similar earlier; he had referred to the marvelous events of the previous two months as a Pentecostal season. Benjamin had been so struck by the term, he had talked to Mary Ann about it. She reminded him that it came from the Bible, in the book of Acts. That night, while the others in the house slept, he had looked up the story and read it through twice.

Now the images he read about leaped into his mind. It was after the Resurrection. The Savior had ascended to heaven in glory. A few days later, the disciples were gathered to observe the feast of Pentecost, so named because it was the fiftieth day after Passover. Jews from more than a dozen nations had gathered to Jerusalem for the festival season. Suddenly in the place where the Twelve met there was the sound of a mighty rushing wind. Tongues of fire appeared over the head of each Apostle and they began to speak in tongues.

Benjamin’s eyebrows lifted suddenly.
Tongues of fire?
His eyes swung down to the hymnal.
The Spirit of God like a fire is burning.

The room shook with the power of the song as the members of the choir sang in perfect harmony both of voice and of spirit.

The visions and blessings of old are returning,
The angels are coming to visit the earth.

That was it! That was what lay so heavily upon him now. It had been a Pentecostal season of remarkable proportions. For the past two months or more, Kirtland had been ablaze with it. Visions and blessings and angels. The Saints had seen them all.

In the book of Acts, the Apostles had spoken in tongues. Rome, Parthia, Crete, Media—it mattered not from whence the Jewish pilgrims had come; they heard the gospel preached in their own tongues, and they had marveled. In the past two months, Benjamin had seen a similar “feast of Pentecost.”