The Work and the Glory (357 page)

“Elder Clark,” he began in a loud voice, so as to make it carry across the crowd. “Thank you for addressing us. You have spoken your sentiments clearly and forcefully.” Now his eyes left Clark and began to move from face to face. “I know it is time to close the meeting, but I am compelled to say a few additional words.”

Good!
Will’s spirit soared with hope. Maybe this could be salvaged somewhat after all.

“I wish to give no offense to Brother Clark,” Joseph began, speaking slowly, obviously choosing his words with care, “but I feel that I must reprove him for the things he has said and the way in which he said them.”

Oh my,
Will thought, glancing at Carl, whose boredom was now replaced with complete attentiveness.

“The Spirit that he has demonstrated,” Joseph went on, “is pharisaical and hypocritical, and he has not edified the people. His accusations that we are not living as holy a life as we should, that we as a people are not showing sufficient sanctity or solemnity, and his call for temperance in such extremes as he has outlined are not in keeping with the spirit of the gospel of Christ. It is a reflection of the rigid sectarian style that we find exhibited in so many religions today.”

Ouch!
Will craned his neck, trying to see Clark, who was on the front row. A murmur of surprise and shock was passing through the crowd. Everyone had been expecting Joseph to say something to smooth things a little, so as not to let the meeting end on such a jarring note. But this was a direct and stinging rebuke. Suddenly Will felt sorry for the man. And then the tiniest of movements caught Will’s eye. He turned. Carl Rogers was nodding his head. It was ever so slight, but he was nodding in agreement.

And then Will understood. Which was more important? To protect the feelings of a man who, though well meaning, was clearly in error, or to make it clear that this did not represent the teachings of the Church of Jesus Christ?

Joseph went on, calmly but firmly. “Brethren and sisters, Brother Clark felt that to move us forward in the execution of our duty he needed to accuse us of being lax in that duty. This is not surprising, for Brother Clark, like many of you, comes out of Christian sectarianism, where this is the normal approach to getting people to repent.”

His voice rose sharply now. “But I say to you, this is not pleasing to the Lord. In the Revelation of John, twelfth chapter, tenth verse, we learn that Satan is called the ‘accuser of the brethren.’ Before the foundation of the world, there was war in heaven, and Lucifer accused his brethren both day and night. That is one of the reasons he was cast out of heaven.

“I solemnly charge you this day that you do not follow the example of the adversary in accusing one another. If we do not accuse each other, God will not accuse us. If you will follow the revelations and instructions which God gives you through me, and if you have no accuser, you will enter heaven. If you will not accuse me, I will not accuse you. If you will throw a cloak of charity over my sins, I will over yours—for charity covereth a multitude of sins.

“I should like to instruct you further in these qualities that Brother Clark has mentioned—temperance, faith, virtue, charity, and truth—and teach you what they really are and how they are viewed by God. What many people call sin is not sin in the eyes of God, and we must be careful that we do not accuse people of being sinful when they are not. One of my purposes as God’s servant is to break down superstition and error.”

It was amazing to Will. In a matter of moments the whole tenor of the meeting had changed. The spirit of oppressiveness and discouragement was gone now. Joseph spoke without bombast or railing accusations, and the effect was so dramatically different from what had prevailed at the meeting before. He could feel his own spirits lifting, and he could tell that the vast assembly was feeling the same.

“Brothers and sisters,” Joseph cried, “there is an important truth that you must understand. Religion was not meant to beat down and oppress. True religion should lift people and make them happy. You see, happiness is the object and design of our existence.” He stopped. “Let me say that again.
Happiness is the object and design of our existence,
and happiness will be the end thereof if we pursue the path that leads to it. As father Lehi taught us in the Book of Mormon, ‘Adam fell, that men might be; and men are, that they might have joy.’ And as the Savior said, ‘I am come that men might have life, and that they might have it more abundantly.’”

The congregation was watching him raptly, hanging on his words.

“Think about that, my brothers and sisters. Men are that they might have joy. We are meant to have an abundant life. Religion is not meant to knock a man down and make him miserable. If we follow the path that God has set, we shall have happiness and joy. That path is virtue, uprightness, faithfulness, holiness, and keeping all the commandments of God. It is not trying to be overly pious, overly solemn. Nor is it to call something sin if God has not labeled it as sin. Everything God gives us is lawful and right, and it is proper that we should enjoy his gifts and blessings whenever and wherever he is disposed to bestow them upon us. God never has, nor will he ever institute an ordinance or give a commandment to his people that is not calculated in its nature to promote the happiness which he has designed, and which will not end in the greatest amount of good and glory to his children.”

He stopped again, taking out his handkerchief to wipe his brow. It was nearly noon now, and getting very warm, even in the shade of the grove. Joseph wore a long coat, as he usually did when preaching to the people. Will could imagine how warm it must be for him.

The Prophet returned the handkerchief to his pocket, then smiled at the people. He turned again to look at William Clark, and now there was nothing but kindness in his eyes and in his voice. “My brothers and sisters, let us preach faith and hope and temperance, but in the way that God has ordained, for therein lies the path to happiness. Let us not accuse one another of sin but leave such things in the hand of the priesthood or in the hands of God.” He stopped, weary now. “We shall sing a hymn in closing and then ask Brother Derek Ingalls to close our meeting with prayer. Those of you wishing to pay your respects to Brother Don Carlos Smith, who passed away yesterday morning, may stay for the funeral services in his behalf, which will start one half hour from now.”

Because of the pleasantness of the morning, the Steeds had chosen to walk to the grove rather than hitch up the buckboards and wagons. Now as they moved slowly back down the hill toward the main part of Nauvoo, it was past two o’clock, and the heat was stifling. They were strung out in clusters of varying size. The children were in front, chattering happily as they darted back and forth, grateful to be free after almost four hours of meetings. Benjamin and Mary Ann brought up the rear, deep in conversation with Caroline and Jessica. Nathan and Lydia, Matthew and Jennifer Jo, and Melissa were walking together, reviewing the startling turn of events at the worship service. Carl, directly behind them, was listening but not participating. He had Sarah, his youngest, up on his shoulders and was slightly behind them. Seeing an opportunity, Will moved up beside him. “Hello, Carl.”

He looked around, then smiled. “Hello, Will.”

“Wanna be with Savannah,” Sarah said, twisting on her father’s shoulders.

“All right.” Carl swung her down and she was off to join the others. Will slowed his step a little, creating some distance between the two of them and the others. Carl naturally moved back to walk beside him. The two of them walked for a few moments, neither one speaking. Then Will cleared his throat. “What did you think of today?” he ventured.

Carl gave him a quick look, then grinned. “Probably exactly what you did.”

“What?”

“Thank heavens Joseph had the courage to let us know that Mr. Clark didn’t represent his feelings.”

Will grinned. “Yeah, exactly.”

“As you know, Will, I’m not much of one for formalized religion. I’m not sure a man needs a church to show him how to be a good Christian. But . . .” He turned to look at Will. “But if I had to choose a church, I think I’d like Joseph Smith at the head of it. I find him to be immensely practical and very much against things that I find to be quite ridiculous.”

“Me too,” Will said, not hiding his surprise at Carl’s directness.

Melissa looked over her shoulder and, seeing them talking, slowed her step, leaving the others in order to join her husband and Will. “How are you doing, Will?” she asked.

“I’m fine.”

“Good.” Melissa stepped between them and slipped an arm through both of theirs. Will felt a sudden affection move through him. He got along very well with all of his aunts, but Melissa had a special way of making him feel totally comfortable. She viewed him no differently than any adult in the family and treated him accordingly.

“So,” Carl asked, surprising them both, “do you think you’ve found your church, Will?”

Caught off guard, Will stammered for a moment; then he decided to be as direct as Carl had been. “I think so, but I’m not completely sure yet. I suppose that if I could do it right now, I would be baptized.” His countenance fell a little. “But by tomorrow . . . ? I don’t know.”

If he had been surprised by Carl’s question, now he was shocked by his next comment. “It’s not your pa’s decision, you know.”

Melissa’s head came around too, and she was staring at him just as Will was.

“The important thing, Will,” he said slowly, “is that it be your answer. Not your father’s. Not your mother’s. Not Jenny’s. Not Joseph Smith’s.” He pulled on his wife’s arm playfully. “Not even Melissa’s.
Your
answer, Will. Then, and only then, will you know what to do.”

Matthew watched Brigham planing down the large plank that would eventually become a mantelpiece for a fireplace. He loved to watch Brigham’s hands as they almost caressed the wood, Brigham stopping from time to time to rub his palm along the grain to see if it was responding properly. The reddish hair was frosted with sawdust, and there were wood chips dotted across the leather carpenter’s apron. The blue-gray eyes were narrowed in concentration.

“How was the meeting yesterday?”

Brigham glanced up only for a moment. “Good. Very interesting, as a matter of fact.”

“Oh, really.” Matthew didn’t ask more. He always loved it when Brigham reported on what happened in the meetings the Twelve held with the Prophet, but he never felt comfortable doing more than just making a gentle inquiry. He didn’t want to pry.

“Yes.” Brigham bent over and blew hard on the wood, sending a puff of sawdust flying outward. “He spent all day with us.”

“It was no problem,” Matthew said hastily, not wanting Brigham to think that’s why he had asked. “I just worked on that cabinet for Sister Buckmiller all day.”

“And it’s looking real good, Matthew. You’ve got the touch, all right.”

“Thank you.” He waited for a moment. Then, realizing that Brigham, in his concentration, had forgotten what he had started to say, Matthew cleared his throat. “So?”

Now Brigham laughed. “They say the first sign of old age is when your memory goes.” Then he sobered. “It was interesting. There were just the five of us there yesterday—me, Heber, John Taylor, George A., and Orson Pratt. But Joseph was very somber. Part of that, of course, is that it was just two days after the funeral. But I also think he’s feeling the weight of the Church on his shoulders more and more.”

“Well, as fast as it’s growing, that’s no wonder.”

“Yes, that’s part of it. But . . . I don’t know, it’s almost as if he’s—” He stopped, looking up at nothing. Then he shook his head. “I don’t know. But anyway, he told us that he wants the Twelve to take the burden of the Church here in Nauvoo upon ourselves. As the Twelve, we are to stand beside him in administering in Church affairs.”

“Hmm,” Matthew responded. “That’s interesting.”

“Yes, very interesting. He wants us to oversee the Church lands, either apportioning it out or selling it, as the case may be. And the primary responsibility for getting incoming Saints settled here will now be on our shoulders.”

“That’s good, isn’t it? I mean, maybe not for you, but for Joseph.”

“Exactly. Joseph needs to see to the ministry. He can’t even find time to work on the translation of the scrolls of Abraham. He is so filled with new ideas, new doctrine to reveal to us, new insights into what we already have. And he can barely get to it. Every day people line up on his doorstep, sometimes with the most trivial of problems. The business of running the city, being the commanding general of the Nauvoo Legion, trying to get his new store built so he and Emma will have a reliable source of income—it’s a wonder he gets anything done.”

“As President of the Twelve, being given such responsibility to help in Church affairs must seem a little daunting to you though, doesn’t it?”

“Oh, yes,” Brigham said. He laid down the plane and leaned back against the bench top. “I find it very daunting. I am unlearned and unschooled.”

“Not in the ways of the Lord, you’re not,” Matthew said quickly. “Look at the experience you had in England. It was as if you were President of the Church there. And Joseph had full confidence in you and the rest of the Twelve.”

“Yes,” Brigham mused. “That was a wonderful experience.”

They were both quiet now, remembering their mission to England. Then Brigham straightened. He reached around behind his back and undid his apron. “Come on,” he suggested, “let’s go across the street and get a dipperful of water out of Sister Parson’s well. It’s so much better than drinking out of that old bucket here.”

Matthew followed him out and across the street. The Parsons had one of the best wells in this part of town and Sister Parson had invited them to partake of its cooling waters at any time. Brigham dropped in the bucket and then reeled it up, handing Matthew the first dipperful. Then Brigham drank deeply, his eyes nearly closed with the pleasure of it.

“May I ask you a question, Brigham?”

“Of course.”