by Dean Hughes
“He seems to. But Joseph never made any claims like that.”
“Oh, Will, we need Joseph. Sometimes I wonder what will happen to us, without him.”
Will came back and picked up Jacob, held his boys, one in each arm, and then tramped on up the hill toward their house. Liz’s reaction had only reinforced his own. But during the following week, he talked with members who agreed with Brother Rigdon that Joseph could not be replaced and that, in time, Joseph III should be the one to lead. What Will sensed, however, was that the majority of Saints were nervous about President Rigdon taking over. Some hinted, and others admitted openly, that they thought Brother Rigdon wanted too much power for himself.
On Thursday morning, August 8, Sidney Rigdon spoke in the east grove again, repeating many of the same ideas he had expressed on Sunday. It was a windy day, however, and blowing toward the stand. Brother Rigdon began his talk, but it became obvious that his thin voice was not being heard. He had a wagon brought in and placed down the hill, more under the wind, and the congregation was asked to turn around. He walked down the hill, mounted the wagon, and spoke from there. Behind the congregation, on the wooden stand, sat eight of the Apostles. Brigham Young, Wilford Woodruff, Heber Kimball, and Orson Pratt had all arrived from the East since Sunday.
Sidney Rigdon spoke for an hour and a half, and he once again made the case for his guardianship of the Church. He was not quite so zealous in his rhetoric this time, but he asserted again his claim as the rightful spokesman for the Church, ordained to that purpose. Will watched some of the people around him and saw that they were growing weary as the midday heat mounted.
What Will realized was that Brother Rigdon was preparing the Saints for a sustaining vote. But as he began to formulate the words for that request, suddenly a booming voice from the congregation rang out, and everyone turned around.
It was Brigham Young who had stood up. “I will manage this voting for Elder Rigdon. He does not preside here,” he stated, his big voice penetrating the wind. His long, reddish hair was blowing across his face, and he pushed it aside. “This child will manage this flock for a season.” But he didn’t call for a vote. He announced that the meeting would be adjourned until two o’clock that afternoon.
By the time everyone returned, the heat was worse, but there seemed more anticipation among the congregants. For one thing, the quorums had been asked to sit in their proper order, and that meant that the afternoon meeting would serve as a solemn assembly. Will was hesitant to sit with the elders and not with his wife, who liked to have help with the little boys, but he assumed that a vote would be taken, and he didn’t want to miss the chance to express his opinion, so he sat at the back of his quorum, where he could see Liz. Daniel was asleep, and another sister was helping to watch Jacob. What worried Will was that no leader had stepped forward as an alternative to Sidney Rigdon. He hoped that would happen this afternoon.
Brigham Young conducted the meeting and also gave the first speech. He offered his opinion about the succession. What he believed, and explained, was that President Rigdon’s authority had been lost when Joseph had died, since the Quorum of the First Presidency had been dissolved. The body that now held authority was the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles. Joseph had ordained them all and had given them the keys of leadership and the sealing power to perform ordinances in the temple when it was completed. No one else held those keys. He felt that no one person should try to fulfill the role that Joseph Smith had played in directing the formation and development of the Church from its outset. Only God could choose such a man to lead again, but when He did, only the Twelve would have the power to ordain him because they held all the keys that Joseph had held.
“We have a head,” he said, “and that head is the Apostleship.” He added, “Brother Rigdon was at his side—not above. No man has a right to counsel the Twelve of Joseph Smith. Think of these things. You cannot appoint a prophet; but if you let the Twelve remain and act in their place, the keys of the kingdom are with them and they can manage the affairs of the Church and direct all things aright.”
This made sense to Will. This was the way Joseph would have talked, how he would have laid out the line of authority. He wouldn’t have shouted about himself taking on the armies of Satan; he would guide the people forward without making so much of himself. Brother Clayton had told Will about a meeting the previous spring when Joseph had conferred all his authority upon the Apostles. He’d even talked of the need there would be for men to carry on when he was gone. Joseph had taken relief in rolling the responsibility of leading the Church off his own shoulders onto theirs. So, to Will, Brigham Young wasn’t pushing himself forward; he was merely describing the proper order of authority in the Church.
Brigham didn’t speak so long as Sidney Rigdon had—even though he was a man who could go on for a long time himself. His voice had carried much better than Rigdon’s and seemed to possess more power. More than anything, he seemed more like Joseph in his manner, his logic, his way of setting things out so everyone could understand. In Will’s mind, it was as though Joseph himself had come before the people, and with that realization, a kind of thrill had gone through his mind and body, a verification that there was someone to direct the affairs of the Church on a daily basis, someone who had the spirit to hear the promptings of the Lord and the intelligence to interpret what he understood so the people could comprehend.
When Brigham ended his talk, he invited Amasa Lyman and W. W. Phelps to give their opinions. Both supported President Young’s position. Brother Phelps said, “If you want to do right, uphold the Twelve. Do your duty and you will be endowed. I will sustain the Twelve as long as I have breath.”
Will felt something powerful in those words; he felt the Spirit resonate within him. He had worked so hard on the temple all winter, and he had felt good about doing it because he wanted to receive the endowment that Joseph had often spoken of. It was the Twelve who possessed the power to carry out temple work. Sidney Rigdon had never said a word about that.
Brigham Young stood again, and he summarized the positions that the people had heard that day. He called upon everyone to vote, not just the quorums. He asked people not only to vote but to carry out the commitment they were making with their choice. Church members needed to be unified in their purpose and supportive of their chosen leaders. Will understood that. When the members walked away that day, they needed to know that the Church had not been thrown into chaos.
Brigham first proposed that the members vote on Sidney’s revelation—and his offer to serve as a guardian leader. But Sidney interrupted Brigham. Will couldn’t hear what Brother Rigdon said, but Brigham addressed the congregation again and stated that Brother Rigdon had suggested that the membership vote first on Brigham’s proposal that the Twelve lead the Church. Will thought he understood that. He had seen what was happening to people during the time that Brigham had spoken. He had seen many in the congregation nodding, men around him whispering to one another, clearly agreeing. Will had felt a spirit pervade the grove, and he knew how the vote would go. Sidney must have known it too, and Will hoped this was his way of bringing unity by letting the people approve Brigham’s proposal and then moving forward.
So Brigham called for a vote of everyone—both men and women—on his own proposal for the Twelve to lead the Church, and in that great sea of people every hand seemed to go up. Will was overcome. He turned to look back at Liz, who was holding her hand high. Her lips were quivering with emotion. She obviously felt, as he did, that Joseph’s work would not end after all. So many times in Will’s life he had wished that he could receive clearer promptings, greater manifestations of truth, but at this moment he was moved as never before, his chest filled with the vibrations of affirmation.
• • •
Liz felt a powerful spiritual manifestation. She looked around and saw the satisfaction and joy in all the eyes. When Brigham called for those opposed to the prop
osal, she supposed that someone surely must have voted no, but she saw no hands in the air. As she walked home with Will, she felt that the world had been righted again. Joseph’s death hadn’t been the complete tragedy it had seemed at first. It now served as a motivation for the Saints to push forward.
What Liz learned as the next few days passed, however, was that attitudes among members were not quite so unified as she had believed. Will came home one day after conversing with Willard Richards and said, “I fear a split is coming in the Church.”
“A split?” Liz asked. “How can that be? Everyone voted for the Twelve. How could they—”
“Not everyone. There were many who didn’t even bother to attend the meeting. Some left the city weeks ago. Some raised their hands at the time but have changed their minds since. Even some of the leaders agree with the dissidents more than they do with Brigham Young.”
“About what?” Liz was nursing Daniel, sitting in her rocking chair by the fireplace. Will was standing in front of her. She could see how disheartened he was, and she knew what he was feeling. They had come home from the grove after the vote feeling confident for the first time in such a long time.
“They aren’t people who would fight against the Church the way the Law brothers and Fosters and Higbees did, but they don’t believe the doctrines that Joseph taught here in Nauvoo. They think those ideas should not be considered revelations.”
“What ideas?”
Will grabbed a wooden chair away from the table and sat down in front of Liz. “They don’t believe that a man can become a god, or that there can be more than one God.”
“He said there was only one ‘God the Father’ for our world,” Liz pointed out. “And the Bible teaches that Jesus is His Son, and is also a God.”
“I know that,” Will said. “It was such an exciting idea when Joseph taught it.”
“I was so moved by it. It was as though I understood the meaning of life for the first time. We go on forever, and we keep learning and advancing and—”
“I know, Liz. I agree. But it’s one of those things that angers people. They say it was mere speculation on Joseph’s part, and it doesn’t need to be part of our ‘creed.’”
“Joseph always said that we have no creed. We simply keep searching for every truth.”
“That’s right. And he tried to open our eyes to bigger things. He wasn’t demeaning God. He was saying that the universe is vast, and there are other planets with people, and a God for those people, too.”
“He made heaven sound exciting,” Liz said.
“The important thing to me is, it’s a place where I’ll still be married to you. That means everything to me. But some people don’t like that, either. They say he was a fallen prophet at the end, espousing things that aren’t taught by other Christians.”
“It’s all this talk about plural marriage that’s bothering people, isn’t it?”
Will nodded.
Liz could tell that Will didn’t want to talk about that, and that worried her. “Do you think Joseph Smith had other wives besides Emma?”
Will rubbed his hand across his cheek. He sat back. “He has taught that doctrine, Liz. Last year he had a revelation read to some of the Church leaders. It explained about marriage lasting into the eternities—and about plural wives, in some cases. It wasn’t announced to everyone, but a lot of people in town know about it.”
The truth was, Liz wasn’t surprised. For a long time now she had been telling herself to ignore the talk she heard, but her friend Sarah Kimball had suggested that Female Relief Society meetings had stopped because Emma was “struggling” with certain doctrines she had heard from Joseph. Sarah hadn’t said what those doctrines were, but she had hinted that there were bad feelings between Emma and Eliza Snow. Liz had felt something strange in Sarah’s reticence, and she had wondered whether there were not a connection to the rumors she had heard. All of it had worried Liz, even frightened her. “Do you think President Young and the Twelve will teach these things?” she asked.
“Yes, I think they will. I think some of the Brethren already have more than one wife. But maybe it will only be leaders who will be asked to live that way.”
“What if you were called to do so?”
“I’m sure I wouldn’t be.”
But it bothered her that Will didn’t want to look at her. “Still, you could be, if what you say is right. So what will you do?”
“What would you do? Would you approve of such a thing?”
“Do you have to ask?”
“You wouldn’t. And I would never enter into such a life. I couldn’t.”
“You might quite like it, I would think. There are pretty girls out there to chase after—and I’m not so pretty as I once was.”
Liz knew she was pushing Will for the response she wanted, but she was surprised by how strong his reaction was. He dropped on his knees in front of her. “Liz, there’s no woman as beautiful as you, but that’s not the point. I loved you when I thought I had no chance at all to have you—and the Lord finally opened the way for us. I would never share what we have with anyone else. I couldn’t. I absolutely couldn’t. I love the Church, but I would go to hell if I had to, to avoid living a doctrine of that kind.”
Daniel had stopped nursing and had fallen asleep, but Liz didn’t move to put him down. She merely stared into Will’s eyes. She had always known how much he loved her, and she didn’t doubt it now. She loved him just as much, but she doubted he understood that. He had always treated her as his gift, as precious, and she couldn’t imagine him sharing his love with another woman. But what was Will saying? “Do you have doubts about Joseph, then, the same as the dissenters?”
“No. Not at all. The Lord spoke to me more than once and told me Joseph was a prophet. But that doesn’t change how I feel. I simply cannot take another wife. God asked Abraham to kill Isaac, and he was willing—but if God asked me to slay one of my sons—I would say no. I’d fail the test. I’m sorry, but I know I would. And I’ll fail the test if the Lord—or anyone else—asks me to split my love with another woman. I’ve thought and thought about this, and I swear, I’ll accept damnation rather than marry someone else.”
“Then let’s not think about it again. Let’s just know that it’s nothing we’ll ever be part of.”
“Aye. It’s nothing we have to consider, ever.”
“Who are the ones who might leave the Church?”
“Sidney Rigdon. He raised his hand for Brigham in the meeting, but he doesn’t believe some of Joseph’s teachings. And William Marks feels the same way. They’ll fight to keep those doctrines out, but if Brigham and the Apostles continue to teach such things—even that marriage can be eternal—I don’t know what they’ll do.”
“What about Emma?”
Will sat back in his chair. “Oh, Liz, I feel so sorry for Emma. She’s trying to figure out what to do to take care of her family, and she’s frightened. Brother Brigham came into town and didn’t even go by to see her at first. She has to resolve all the money issues, and yet some of the property probably should belong to her. William Clayton says that Brigham never has gotten along well with Emma, and he’s not reassuring her in any way. She only needs to know that all the debt of the Church isn’t hers, and that some of the property will be available to give her a livelihood.”
“And what if Brigham teaches plural marriage?”
“I don’t think she’ll ever accept it. She’s close to William and Rosannah Marks, and I think, if they reject Brigham’s leadership, she might side with them.”
“We were all so unified in the meeting on Thursday. How can this happen?”
“It’s how life always is, Liz. We try to create a perfect society and help one another to live as perfectly as Jesus. We just always fall far, far short.”
Liz had seen that too. But she had Will, and she had her boys. And she
had her sisters in the gospel. She couldn’t solve all these problems, but she could cling to what she knew was true—and she could trust. The Twelve would lead the Church, and she would follow. “Even if we fall short, we have to keep trying,” she said. “We need to create the best place we can.”
“That’s exactly right, Liz.” He bent forward and kissed her, and then he kissed little Daniel. Jacob had been playing on the floor, but he came for a kiss too. And Liz thanked the Lord once again that they were all still together and that Jacob was still her child.
Chapter 25
Jeff had never been busier in his life, but he felt good about the things he was doing, especially in the elders quorum. A young man in the ward, Michael Sturdivant, was trying to work and go to college at the same time, and he was struggling with some of the papers he had to write. Malcolm decided Jeff was just the guy to tutor Michael, and as it turned out, he was right. Jeff liked the time he spent with Michael, working with his writing, but he learned also that the boy had lots of questions—and doubts—about his faith, and Jeff felt he was having a positive effect in the young man’s life. At the same time, Malcolm was able to salvage a couple of used tires and put them on Michael’s car—and then he ended up doing a brake job on the car while he had it in his shop. Sister Sturdivant, who was a single mom, cried when she told Malcolm and Jeff how much she appreciated what they were doing for her son. “He’s starting to believe in himself,” she told Jeff.
Jeff had experienced, as a missionary, what it was like to make a difference in someone’s life, but he realized that after he returned to college, he had devoted almost all his time to himself. He had rarely looked about to see what others needed. He liked feeling “useful,” and he realized how different his focus was becoming. Of course, part of that was also having little William in his life. Jeff found himself holding his son at times and trying to picture what the child’s future would be. He thought of his own dad, who had always been steady and reliable. He had provided for his family and opened doors for Jeff and his sisters, making sure they could go to college and have experiences that enriched their lives. It was strange to think that just as his own career was beginning, it was already his son’s future that had to matter more than his own. There were things he wanted out of life, but he couldn’t pursue them if they compromised his family’s future.
