Pillar of Light

by Gerald N. Lund

  Now, there was a question, Caroline thought. She hadn’t thought of it in quite those terms before, but the Savior had been very specific on that point.

  Joseph spun on the balls of his feet, turning to directly face the Steeds. “And there sits Lydia Steed. Her father passed away several months ago. He was not a member of the Church.”

  The family all turned to look at Lydia, but she was as surprised as they were at this sudden turn of direction.

  “Suppose Josiah McBride gets on the other side of the veil and finds out that Brother Joseph was really not a false prophet after all, that the angel Moroni did in truth appear to him and give him the gold plates. Suppose Moroni himself meets him and tells him that the Book of Mormon is a true record of God. Would you say that is possible, Sister Lydia?”

  She nodded quickly. “Of course.”

  “Then further suppose that Josiah McBride decides he

  was wrong in this life and wants to be a member of Christ’s

  church—”

  He stopped abruptly, looking around with challenge in his eyes. “Is this so far-fetched, brothers and sisters? Do you not remember what Peter tells us? During the three days that Christ’s body lay in the tomb, where was his spirit? Peter says Jesus went to the spirit world and there preached to those that are dead. Why would he preach to people in the spirit world unless people might hear and believe and have a change of heart?”

  He jabbed his finger in the direction of the audience. “It is only Seymour Brunson’s body we buried a few days ago. Seymour Brunson himself is at this very moment living and walking and talking in the spirit world. And he rejoices in it. Seymour Brunson was a great missionary in this dispensation. How many of you here today are in the Church because Seymour Brunson came to you and preached the gospel to you?”

  Caroline turned. A surprising number of hands were up around the assembly.

  Joseph chuckled softly. “You who knew Seymour Brunson, what do you think he’s doing at this very minute?”

  “Preaching the gospel,” someone called out. There was a ripple of laughter. If you knew Seymour Brunson, that was the only answer.

  “That’s right. Peter said that in the world of spirits the gospel is preached to the spirits. Read it for yourselves in the third and fourth chapters of Peter’s first epistle. He says that the gospel is preached to them that are dead so they can be judged on the same basis as we who are in the flesh are judged.”

  Caroline had forgotten Lydia now. She wasn’t thinking about how Carl was taking this or Joshua or anyone else. She was staring at Joseph, hanging on every word, the concepts stunning her like blows from someone’s hand. Her father and mother were dead now many years. Donovan Mendenhall, her first husband, had succumbed to yellow fever about a year and a half before Joshua had come into her life. She had always believed they were still alive somewhere, in heaven. But she had not thought about that other sphere in such concrete terms before. And yet, it had to be. But if they were alive, then they were really alive—walking, talking, thinking, longing for happiness. The idea of sitting around on clouds for eternity had always been vaguely dissatisfying to her.

  Joseph had risen to his full height now, and his voice was thunderous with power. “Can you not understand such simple doctrine? Life does not end with the grave, and if life does not end, then individuality does not end. And if the gospel is preached there, there will be some who hear it and believe it and want to be baptized for the remission of their sins. They know what the Savior taught. They know they cannot enter the kingdom of heaven unless they have been baptized. The Savior himself declared it. He said, ‘Except a man be born of water and of the Spirit, he cannot enter into the kingdom of God.’ So what shall we do?”

  Joseph answered his own question by turning and taking the Bible from Emma again. “In Paul’s great discourse on the resurrection, we have the answer. Let me read it to you again.” He found his place quickly. “Verse twenty-nine. Here is what Paul says. ‘Else what shall they do which are baptized for the dead, if the dead rise not at all? why are they then baptized for the

  dead?’ ”

  He shut the book with a loud pop. “Did you hear that, brothers and sisters? In Paul’s day, what were they doing? They were baptizing for the dead.” There was a flickering smile and a touch of humor around his eyes. “Please. They were not baptizing dead people. We are not talking about baptism of the dead. We are talking about baptism for the dead. Yes, my friends and neighbors, those early Saints were being baptized in behalf of their dead ancestors.

  “ ‘But, Brother Joseph,’ someone cries, ‘must I not be baptized for myself? Can someone else do this work vicariously for me? Is acting as a proxy for someone else part of the gospel?’ ”

  He shook his head, suggesting that such questions were very foolish. “Did not the Savior suffer for your sins? Was not that a vicarious work in your behalf? Then why not a vicarious work to perform the necessary ordinances for salvation?

  “ ‘But, Brother Joseph,’ another cries, ‘there is only one verse in First Corinthians that mentions this doctrine and that is but a passing reference. If that is true doctrine, why didn’t Paul teach it more clearly?’ ”

  He smiled patiently. “Brothers and sisters, Paul didn’t teach that doctrine in its fulness to the Corinthians because he didn’t need to. They already knew it. They were already doing it! And so Paul only made passing reference to the practice in order to make his point about the resurrection.”

  Joseph had to stop because the crowd was buzzing as people turned to their neighbors or family in reaction to Joseph’s words. Joshua gave a little snort of disgust. Caroline shot him a withering look and then looked away. She wasn’t in a mood for his skepticism at the moment. He just shook his head.

  Caroline felt dazed. Now she was vividly remembering something she had not thought about for many years. When she was no more than six or seven years old, she had gone into Baltimore with her parents to hear a famous preacher from Philadelphia. He wasn’t from their church but was well known, so they went to hear him preach. In his sermon he had used the very scripture Joseph cited a few moments before, where the Savior said all must be born again. The preacher’s purpose was to get the congregation to make a decision to be baptized, and he kept hammering at the fact that the Savior said we must be baptized or we would be damned. To her utter embarrassment and her mother’s total shock, after about the fourth time the man shouted that scripture at them, her father suddenly raised his hand. “May I ask a question, Pastor?” he said. Caught off guard, the minister had nodded. Her father then asked, “What about those people who are born into a country where they never have a chance to hear about Christ and therefore cannot choose to be baptized? Are they to be damned too?”

  The man instantly bristled. “It is God’s grace that chooses those who are blessed to hear the gospel,” he snapped. “We do not question God’s grace.”

  “Does God’s grace save one man and condemn another based on a whim of chance?” her father asked. She could still remember how calm he was. And that calmness only made the preacher livid. “How dare you question the word of God?” he shouted.

  Her father had stood up then, his head high. He had motioned for Caroline and her mother to get up with him. “I don’t question the word of God,” he said to the preacher. “It’s your interpretation thereof that I find completely impossible to swallow.” And with that, they had walked out.

  For months, Caroline had been so humiliated she ducked down in the carriage every time they went back into Baltimore. Only much later had she come to realize what a profoundly courageous act it had been. When they had walked out of the hall, with people booing and hissing at them as they left, her father had said only one thing, and he said it to Caroline and not to her mother. “Don’t you ever believe in a God that would send people to hell based on the accident of their birth.”

  “My dear brothers and sisters,” Joseph went on now, obviously starting to move toward his con
clusion. “In the ancient Church they practiced baptism for the dead. With the priesthood keys restored, that practice is also hereby restored. I tell you here and now on this day, you may be baptized for those who have died. The ordinance is exactly the same. You go down into the water. One with authority baptizes you. Only instead of being baptized for yourself, you act as the representative for someone who has died.”

  Now he turned to Lydia again, and his face was filled with kindness. “ ‘But, Brother Joseph,’ some may say, ‘how will Lydia Steed know if Josiah McBride wants to be baptized in the spirit world? What if he hasn’t heard the gospel, or what if, upon hearing it, he doesn’t accept it? Then what?’ ”

  His shoulders pulled back. “You don’t worry yourselves about that,” he said firmly. “If a person rejects an ordinance performed in his behalf, that is his agency. But since we cannot know who does and who does not, you may proceed where you feel it is best.”

  He stopped now for the last time. “This is good doctrine, my brothers and sisters. Listen to your hearts and you can tell. It tastes good because it is true.”

  As he stepped back, Caroline found herself nodding. She sensed that Joshua was glaring at her, but she didn’t care. She nodded again. It was good doctrine, and she knew that because Joseph was exactly right—it tasted good.

  “If you ask me, the whole thing is poppycock!”

  Caroline felt a flash of irritation. “Why?”

  “Baptizing someone whose body is rotting in the grave.”

  “Now, there’s a nice way to put it,” Nathan said dryly. They had all come from the memorial services to Benjamin’s cabin and now sat in the shade of the front porch trying to beat the afternoon heat.

  Joshua lowered his head stubbornly. “Nice or not, they’re dead. This is absurd.”

  “Don’t you just say it’s absurd,” Lydia said, smiling a little to take any sting out of her words. “Come on, Joshua, be fair. You can’t just say it’s absurd. You have to tell us why you think it is.”

  Caroline followed that up swiftly. “That’s right. Otherwise, just admit that you don’t believe it.”

  Joshua swung on her, angry that she would confront him in front of the family, angry at the moon-eyed look she had displayed while Joseph talked. “All right. Let’s take Lydia’s father that Joseph talked about. You never knew Josiah McBride, but we did, didn’t we, Nathan? Didn’t we, Lydia?”

  “Joshua!” Mary Ann warned, watching Lydia closely.

  Lydia was calm. “No, it’s all right. I asked him to do this. Go on, Joshua.”

  “I’m not saying anything bad about Lydia’s father. He was an honest, hardworking man.” There was a momentary grin. “He didn’t like me much, but that can’t be all bad.” Then he was sober again as he looked at Lydia. “Now, you answer honestly, Lydia. How much chance is there that your father is up there right now—wherever ‘there’ happens to be—saying, ‘Glory, hallelujah, Joseph Smith is a prophet’?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Come on, Lydia,” he bored in. “How did he feel about Joseph right up to the day he died?”

  She nodded slowly. “He thought he was a charlatan and a fake.”

  “There!” Joshua said, like a cat pouncing on a field mouse. “And you think that the minute he passes on to the next side, all that is going to change?” He spun around to Nathan. “You’re the one always quoting that scripture from the Book of Mormon about whatever a person’s like in this life goes with him into the next.”

  Nathan looked a little surprised. Then he laughed. “There’s a switch. You’re quoting me scripture to prove your point.”

  That broke the tension in the room a little and Joshua gave him a crooked grin. “Sorry, I don’t know what came over me.” Then he raised his hands. “Look, I know how you all feel about this. You believe in Joseph. And that’s fine. I think Joseph’s a fine man, but all this stuff about being baptized for someone who’s been in the ground for a hundred years? Sorry.”

  He turned, looking for support from the only place he was likely to get it. “Does this make the slightest bit of sense to you, Carl?”

  To everyone’s utter amazement, Carl didn’t answer right away. He had been sitting back, content to listen to the conversation, not saying anything either way. Finally, he pursed his lips. “What do you mean by ‘make sense’?” When Joshua’s jaw dropped a little, he went on slowly. “I guess that depends on another question. Do you believe in the Bible?”

  “You know the answer to that,” Joshua snapped, feeling betrayed.

  “Well, then, no, the whole idea of being baptized for someone who has died is actually quite ridiculous. In fact, if you don’t believe in the Bible, the idea of baptism even for a living person doesn’t make much sense. I mean, going into the water and having your sins washed away.”

  “Aha!” Joshua said, mollified somewhat. Melissa was staring at her husband, but Carl seemed oblivious to both of them. “On the other hand,” he said, “if you do believe in the Bible, as I do, it does kind of make sense in a different sort of way.”

  Melissa’s worry turned to surprise. Joshua’s triumph froze on his face. “How so?” he demanded.

  “Well,” Carl said, thinking it through even as he spoke, “Joseph quoted the Savior correctly. He did tell Nicodemus that unless a person is baptized he can in nowise enter the kingdom of heaven.” But he frowned, and shook his head. “I don’t know. I’m going to have to think about this one.”

  Caroline waited three days before she broached the subject. She waited until the baby was down and Livvy had taken Savannah over to their grandmother’s and it was quiet in the house. She finished drying the last of the breakfast dishes, then came and sat down across the table from where Joshua was working.

  He looked up at her, saw her face, and immediately pushed the ledger book aside.

  Her shoulders lifted, then fell again. She tried to meet his gaze, but couldn’t quite do it. “Joshua . . . ,” she finally started.

  He said nothing, just watched her steadily.

  “I would like to be baptized.”

  There was not even a flicker of expression.

  “I know how you feel about religion and the Mormons, but . . .” She stopped, groping for a way to make him understand.

  If she had seen what was in his mind, she may have stopped altogether, for images from Independence rose up like specters before him. Mormonism had been a major factor—no, the major factor—in the disintegrating relationship between him and Jessica. That was one of the reasons he had fought the Mormons so bitterly in Jackson County. He knew that many things were different now. He was different now. But these were old wounds. And this was the primary reason why he had resisted moving to Nauvoo to be with his family.

  “This isn’t just because of the funeral services?” he said, watching her very closely now.

  “No. I’ve been thinking about it for a long time.”

  “But Joseph’s sermon helped you make up your mind?”

  “Yes. After I am baptized I want to be baptized for my mother. I would like Nathan to be baptized for my father and for Donovan.”

  He looked away and she wanted to cry.

  “Joshua, this has nothing to do with my love for you. But I loved Donovan too, once. I don’t know if he would ever hear and accept the gospel. Religion was pretty much a surface thing with him. But if he does accept it, I want him to have this chance. I owe him that much.”

  He started forward, the breath exploding out of him in total exasperation, but then he bit it back. On the day he had gone around with Joseph Smith and watched him heal the sick, Joshua Steed had come to a conclusion. He did not believe what Joseph believed. He wasn’t even sure he believed what he had witnessed that day. But there was something there that changed his feelings about Mormonism. It wasn’t for him, but now at least he understood to some degree the power it had over people.

  He sighed. “And what about the children?”

  “I won’t tell Li
vvy what to do. We’ve talked about it. In some ways she’d like to be a Mormon just because a lot of her cousins and friends are. I told her that’s not enough.”

  He nodded, accepting that. “Do what you want, Caroline,” he finally said, more gruffly than he had intended.

  Her eyes lowered. “I won’t do it if it’s going to come between us, Joshua.”

  He sighed again, fighting back the sick feeling in his stomach. “You know how I feel.”

  “Yes. And if you say no, I won’t.”

  There was no mistaking the pain it cost her to say that. He watched her, his eyes hooded, his mind churning. “Caroline, you have been very good about not trying to make me act or believe in a certain way. I . . . I guess I’ll not be trying to do the same thing to you.”

  It wasn’t all that she hoped for, but more than what she feared it might be. Relief and gratitude filled her eyes. “Thank you, Joshua.”

  He nodded, then reached out and pulled the ledger book in front of him once more. He didn’t look up again as she stood and went into the bedroom, but just as she was disappearing down the hallway, he spoke her name. She stopped. He still wasn’t looking up.

  “Carl and I have to go to St. Louis and meet with Samuelson on that new cotton crop he’s got coming in. Will you at least wait until I get back?”

  She felt a little stab of disappointment, but could think of no compelling reason why she shouldn’t. “That’s fine,” she said.

  “Thank you.” His head was still down as he worked on his figures.

  Savannah came through the open door first, running as fast as her little legs could pump. Olivia was right behind her. “Mama! Mama! Papa and Uncle Carl are back!”

  Caroline dropped the sewing onto the floor and stood up swiftly. “They are? Where?”

  Olivia was puffing. “They stopped at the store to see Lydia and Nathan.”