The Work and the Glory

by Gerald N. Lund

  “Attention all!” Brigham called out. His voice was firm and loud, carrying clearly across the heads of the group before him. “This congregation makes me think of the days of King Benjamin in the Book of Mormon, the multitude being so great that all could not hear. I know it is a warm summer day. I know that you have already been here for a long time. But I request the brethren not to have any feelings against being convened again this afternoon, for it is necessary. We want you all to be still and give attention, that all may hear. Let none complain because of the situation of the congregation, we will do the best we can.”

  Joshua felt Caroline stir beside him. Her eyes were fastened on Brigham and she leaned forward attentively. He looked around. His mother and Rebecca and Jenny and Melissa and even the older children were in the same posture. Brigham was asking for their undivided attention. It was an unnecessary request. He already had it.

  “For the first time in my life,” Brigham went on, “for the first time in your lives, for the first time in the kingdom of God in this century, without a prophet at our head, do I step forth to act in my calling in connection with the Quorum of the Twelve. We are Apostles of Jesus Christ unto this generation—Apostles whom God has called by revelation through the Prophet Joseph. We are ordained and anointed to bear off the keys of the kingdom of God in all the world.

  “This people have hitherto walked by sight and not by faith. You have had the Prophet in your midst. Do you all understand? You have walked by sight and without much pleading to the Lord to know whether things were right or not. Heretofore you have had a prophet as the mouth of the Lord to speak to you, but he has sealed his testimony with his blood, and now, for the first time, are you called to walk by faith, not by sight.

  “The first position I take in behalf of the Twelve and the people is to ask a few questions. Here is what I wish to ask the Latter-day Saints: Do you as individuals at this time want to choose a prophet or a guardian? Inasmuch as our prophet and patriarch are taken from our midst, do you want someone to guard, to guide and lead you through this world into the kingdom of God, or not? All that want some person to be a guardian, a spokesman or something else, signify it by raising the right hand.”

  Carl gave Joshua a startled look and Joshua returned it. Sidney had put forth his case for an hour and a half this morning. It had been a long and often lifeless address, unusual for Sidney Rigdon. Joshua had simply assumed that Brigham would take time to do the same. Yet he was barely a minute into his address and here he was asking for a vote on Sidney’s proposal. He lifted his head and scanned across the congregation. Not a single hand was up. The people weren’t ready to make that commitment, at least not yet.

  Brigham nodded slowly, clearly pleased. “When I came to this stand I had peculiar feelings and impressions. The faces of this people seem to say, we want a shepherd to guide and lead us through this world. All that want to draw away a party from the Church after them, let them do it if they can, but they will not prosper!” He thundered out the last five words, causing some people to jump in surprise. “If any man thinks he has influence among this people to lead away a party, let him try it, and he will find out that there is power with the Apostles which will carry them off victorious through all the world, and it is they who will build up and defend the church and kingdom of God.”

  Joshua was shaking his head, half in astonishment, half in admiration. This was no rhetorical contest to let the people be swayed by one speech or another. This was a direct frontal assault on Sidney Rigdon’s position.

  “What do the people want?” Brigham cried. “I feel as though I wanted the privilege to weep and mourn for Joseph and Hyrum for thirty days at least. Then I would have been better prepared to rise up, shake myself, and tell the people what the Lord wants of them. My heart is too full of mourning to launch forth into business transactions or to deal with the organization of the Church. But there is no choice. I feel compelled this day to step forth in the discharge of those duties God has placed upon me as President of the Quorum of the Twelve.”

  He paused, letting his eyes sweep across the crowd. They seemed to take in every living soul before him, as though he were asking the question to each one individually and waiting for an answer.

  “I now wish to speak about the organization of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. If the Church is organized, and I know that you want to know how it should be organized, I will tell you. I know your feelings. Do you want me to tell your feelings?” He half turned and motioned to where Sidney Rigdon was seated. “Here is President Rigdon, who was counselor to Joseph. He says he has been appointed as the spokesman for Joseph and should act as guardian. But I ask you, brothers and sisters, where are Joseph and Hyrum now? They are gone beyond the veil, and if Elder Rigdon wants to act as Joseph’s counselor, he must go beyond the veil where he is.”

  “Whew!” Joshua said softly. “That’s not pulling any punches.”

  “Shhh!” Caroline said without turning her head.

  Brigham let his previous words sink in for a few moments before going on. “There has been much said about President Rigdon being President of the Church and leading the people, being the head, and so on. Brother Rigdon has come sixteen hundred miles to tell you what he wants to do for you. And if the people want President Rigdon to lead them, they may have him. But I say unto you that the Quorum of the Twelve have the keys of the kingdom of God in all the world. I tell you that the Twelve are appointed by the finger of God. Here is Brigham. Have his knees ever faltered? Have his lips ever quivered?”

  A slight movement near the stand caught Joshua’s eye. Sidney Rigdon had lowered his head and was staring at the ground. If there was one thing Sidney Rigdon could not honestly say, it was that his knees had never faltered.

  “Here is Heber and the rest of the Twelve, an independent body who have the keys of the priesthood—the keys of the kingdom of God to deliver to all the world. Those keys were given to us by Brother Joseph. This is true, so help me God!” He stopped, those piercing eyes sweeping across the faces of the people like a burning wind. “The Twelve stand next to Joseph and are as the First Presidency of the Church. I do not know whether my enemies will take my life or not, and I do not care, for I want to be with the man I love.”

  Then, in an instant, his head lifted higher, his voice rose until it was like the roar of a lion. “You cannot fill the office of a prophet, seer, and revelator. God must do this. You are like children without a father and sheep without a shepherd. You must not appoint any man at our head. If you should, the Twelve must ordain him. If you want some other man or men to lead you, take them and we, the Twelve, will go our own way to build up the kingdom in all the world.

  “I know who are Joseph’s friends and who are his enemies. I know where the keys of the kingdom are and where they will eternally be. You cannot call a man to be a prophet. You cannot take Elder Rigdon and place him above the Twelve. If so, he must be ordained by them. I tell you there is an overanxiety to hurry matters here. You as a people cannot take just any man and put him at the head. You would scatter the Saints to the four winds, you would sever the priesthood. So long as we remain as we are, the heavenly Head is in constant cooperation with us; and if you go out of that course, God will have nothing to do with you.”

  Once again he turned and looked at Sidney Rigdon. Rigdon did not look up. Finally, Brigham turned back slowly. He straightened to his full height, letting his gaze sweep across the huge assembly before him. Now his voice rang like a blacksmith’s hammer striking on hot steel. “I again repeat,” he thundered, not with anger, but with absolute confidence that almost approached serenity, “no man can stand at our head, except God reveals it from the heavens. Do you want a spokesman? Elder Rigdon claims to be spokesman to the Prophet. Very well, he was. But can he now act in that office? If he wants now to be a spokesman to the Prophet, he must go to the other side of the veil, for that is where the Prophet is.

  “Does this Church want things organized
as God organized them? Or do you want to clip the power of the priesthood and let those who have the keys of the priesthood go off somewhere where the people will hear them and build up the kingdom in all the world?”

  Joshua, fully intent now on the drama playing out before his eyes, was suddenly startled by Caroline’s hand shooting out and grabbing at his arm. He turned, but to his surprise she was not looking at him. She was leaning forward, chin thrust out, her eyes wide and filled with astonishment, her body straining as though against invisible bonds.

  “What?” he said, alarmed by the sudden intensity he saw in her face.

  If she heard him, she gave no sign. Every muscle in her body seemed focused on the stand and the figure that stood there. It was as though, for her, Brigham Young and Caroline Steed were suddenly the only two people in existence and if she took her eyes from him he would disappear and leave her totally alone.

  “If there is a spokesman,” Brigham’s voice cried, “if he is a king and priest as Sidney claims, then let him go and build up a kingdom unto himself. That is his right and it is the right of many here. But I tell you, the Twelve are at the head of this church. They are the head!”

  Caroline’s fingers were digging into the flesh of Joshua’s arm through the fabric of his sleeve, hurting him a little. “Joshua, it’s Joseph!”

  He gaped at her. “What?” he cried.

  “Look, it’s Joseph!”

  He straightened, lifting his head, swinging it around to see what it was that had caught her eye. But her eyes were fixed on Brigham Young. There was nothing else to see. He turned back to her. The sight of her face stunned him. The very intensity of it was almost frightening to him.

  “Caroline!” He took her hand, pulled it firmly, trying to break the spell, trying to make her turn away. She did not move or turn her head. For her, he was not there at that moment.

  Suddenly, Mary Ann was beside them, reaching out for Caroline. “Caroline!” she whispered, giving Joshua a frightened look. “What’s the matter?”

  Caroline turned now, looking at Mary Ann with such radiant joy in her eyes that Joshua fell back a little. “Look, Mother Steed, it’s Joseph. It’s Joseph speaking to us. Brigham appears to be Joseph.”

  “What?” Joshua cried aloud.

  But his mother had turned to look where Caroline was pointing. There was an audible gasp. “Oh, Caroline!” she exclaimed. “It is Joseph!”

  Whirling to see, feeling cold chills coursing up and down his back, too dumbfounded to respond, Joshua turned too. All he saw was Brigham Young standing there at the pulpit, speaking to the people.

  “Now,” the Apostle cried, “if you want Sidney Rigdon or William Law to lead you, or anybody else, you are welcome to them. But I tell you, in the name of the Lord, that no man can put another between the Twelve and the Prophet Joseph. Why? Because Joseph has committed into our hands the keys of the kingdom in this last dispensation. I will ask you,” he said, his voice suddenly dropping in loudness but still carrying across the air as though he spoke through a trumpet. “I ask you, who has stood next to Joseph and Hyrum? I have, and I will stand next to him. We have a head, and that head is the apostleship!”

  Still feeling that prickling sensation, Joshua was about to turn back to his wife and his mother to see what madness had gripped them, when his eye was caught by another movement. Up ahead of him, a woman’s arm had shot out and she was pointing. She whispered in great urgency to an older daughter who sat beside her. There was that same look of stunned astonishment, and then a blazing, awestruck look of pure joy on both women’s faces. He heard a soft cry.

  To his left, Rebecca was on her knees, clutching five-year-old Christopher on both shoulders. She spun him around to face Brigham. “Look, Christopher!” she said in a fierce whisper. “Look! It’s Joseph. Do you see him?”

  Without being conscious of it, Joshua held his breath, straining to see Christopher’s face. He was squinting in fierce concentration. Then suddenly his eyebrows shot up, the eyes widened perceptibly. “It is, Mama! It is Brother Joseph!”

  It was as if a whirlwind had dropped out of the sky and stirred up the congregation gathered there near the temple. Brigham was speaking, but all across the congregation—in the quorums of the priesthood, in the audience of women and children—people were staring, pointing, whispering in stunned amazement. Up near the stand a man had leaped to his feet and stood gaping up at Brigham.

  Behind him he heard Kathryn’s voice. “Jenny! Jenny! Do you hear it? It is Joseph speaking to us.”

  “Yes!” It came as half cry of ecstasy, half sob of amazement. “It is the voice of Joseph.”

  Joshua whirled now, angry and confused and frustrated all at once. “What are you talking about?” he hissed fiercely to Caroline. “It’s Brigham. Brigham Young.” He looked to Carl and Melissa. Carl’s expression told Joshua that he was experiencing exactly the same confusion as he was. Melissa looked around at the people around her with quick, jerky movements of her head. She seemed bewildered, almost a little frightened. And then she turned back toward the stand and froze, her eyes flying open. “Ohhh,” she said in a low gasp of astonishment.

  And then, as though a thunderclap had sounded out of clear sky, or lightning had struck within a few feet of him, Joshua stiffened, rocking back. He raised one hand and swept it across his eyes, as though that might bring him back to reality. But it was not his eyes that were betraying him. It was his ears. He leaned forward, blinked, blinked again, staring across the five or six rods that separated them from where Brigham was standing. It was still Brigham Young he was staring at, of that there was no question.

  But the voice!

  “No man has a right to counsel the Twelve but Joseph Smith,” Brigham was saying.

  Without being aware of it, Joshua rose to his knees, peering forward. It was Brigham Young he saw, standing there speaking to them. But it was not Brigham who was speaking! It was no longer the voice that was high-pitched and powerful, filled with passion and ringing conviction. It was a deep voice now—resonant, full of love, gentle, powerful, compelling. It was the voice that Joshua Steed had last heard just a few days before the martyrdom. It was the voice that told him to stay in Nauvoo and care for Caroline. It was the voice that forgave Joshua Steed for his blind anger and thanked him for his friendship.

  It was the voice of Joseph Smith!

  “I do not ask you to take my counsel or advice alone,” the voice said evenly now, “but every one of you must act for yourselves. If Brother Rigdon is the person you want to lead you, vote for him. But don’t vote for him unless you intend to follow him and support him as you did Joseph. Do not vote unless you mean to take his counsel hereafter.”

  From somewhere far off Joshua was aware that someone was shaking his shoulder. He turned. Carl was kneeling by his side. “Joshua! What’s the matter?”

  He shook his head, brushing the query aside, not wanting to break his concentration.

  “And I would say the same for the Twelve. Don’t make a covenant to support the Twelve unless you intend to abide by their counsel. And if they do not counsel you as you please, don’t turn round and oppose them. I want every man, before he enters into a covenant, to know what he is going to do. But I am asking you. We want to know if this people will support the priesthood in the name of Israel’s God. If you say you will, do so.”

  Joshua felt another hand, this time on his arm, this time gentle and caressing. “Do you hear it, Joshua?” Caroline was saying to him, as though from across a large room. He just looked at her, his eyes searching hers. He turned back as the voice continued.

  “The Twelve have the power now—the seventies, the elders, and all of you can have power to go and build up the kingdom in the name of Israel’s God. I tell you, Nauvoo will not hold all the people that will come into the kingdom.”

  Joshua reeled again, his jaw going instantly slack. The voice of Joseph was gone. It was as if a completely strange voice had taken over now. And then he realize
d that it was Brigham once again. It was not a stranger’s voice. It was simply the voice of Brigham again.

  “We want to build the temple,” Brigham was saying, “so as to get our endowment. And if we do our best and Satan will not let us build it, then we will go into the wilderness and there we will receive the endowment, for we will receive an endowment one way or the other.”

  As shocking as it was to have the voice of Brigham back again, even more totally astounding to Joshua was the sharpness of his disappointment. It was as though Joseph’s voice had electrified him, soothed him, made things right again. Now it was gone, as swiftly as it had come. And something deep within Joshua had gone with it.

  “Will you abide our counsel?” Brigham cried. “I will ask you as quorums, Do you want Brother Rigdon to stand forward as your leader, your guide, your spokesman?”

  Suddenly, Sidney Rigdon waved a hand and said something that only the nearest could hear. Brigham turned, bent half-down toward the First Counselor. Again something was said which Joshua could not hear. Brigham nodded and turned back to the congregation.

  “President Rigdon wants me to bring up the other question first, and that is: Does the Church want and is it their only desire to sustain the Twelve as the First Presidency of this people? Here are the Apostles. If the Church wants the Twelve to stand as the head of this kingdom in all the world, to stand next to Joseph, to walk up into their calling, and to hold the keys of this kingdom, every man, every woman, every quorum is now put in order, and you are now the sole controllers of it. We shall call for a vote.”

  He paused, standing erect and still, as calm and unruffled as any man could possibly be. Now all the whispering, all the awestruck mumbles and cries stopped. Not a sound disturbed the silence. To the west of them, the walls of the temple gleamed pale and majestic, as though watching over what was about to happen. Then at last Brigham spoke.