Joseph Smith: A Modern American Prophet

Joseph Smith A Modern American Prophet INSIDE the log house every- thing is astir, although it is a long time till dawn. There is a constant passing to and fro between the two lower rooms, and up and down the ladder that leads to the attic, where two other rooms are, with slanting roofs. The flickering light of candles, as they are carried here and there and up and down, throw dark shad- ows, ever changing, on the walls and on the floor. The Smith family — at least the older members of it — are making preparations to go to the religious revival that is to be held in Man- chester, not far away. They must be in their places by the time the bugle, which blows at sunrise every morning, summons the wor- shipers to meeting. TT is an interesting group, this ■• family, aside from the fact that they are hardy pioneers in a heav- ily timbered country. There is, first of all, the father, whose name is Joseph. When he stands up, he is a tall man, full six feet, angular in frame, with a dis- position that is quiet, thoughtful, and deliberate in both word and act. He is in his forty-ninth year, although, on account of much Jhard work and some financial re- verses, he looks older than that. AND then there is the mother. -**■ Her name is Lucy. She is five years younger than her husband. A woman of good natural intel- ligence, she has on more than one occasion proved a capable mana- ger, and exerts a powerful in- fluence on every member of the family, including her even tem- pered spouse. Also she can give a good account of herself in a bar- gain. Of the children, Alvin is the oldest. He is twenty-two. Big of body, considerate always of his parents, and a tremendous worker, he has come to be a main prop of the family, taking much of the By JOHN HENRY EVANS I responsibility and burden off their shoulders upon his own broad ones. He is a young man of promise, to whose future the father and mother are looking with no small degree of pride and anticipation. UYRUM, the second child, is a ■■ true son of his parents. He is twenty. Like his mother, he has good native intelligence; and, like his father, he is deliberate in speech and manner, never taking any has- ty step. But, once his mind is made up, he goes through with it, no matter what. By nature he is tender-hearted and sympathetic — a trait of character that finds its chief outlet in mothering his younger brother, Joseph. Next comes Sophronia, who is seventeen. She is a general favor- ite in the household, not merely because for many years she was the only girl in a family of boys, but also because in babyhood she was snatched from the grave by prayer and faith. The fourth child is Joseph, who is now past fourteen and of whom we shall hear more as we go on with our story. The Author "D OUR others are in this home — ■■ Samuel H., who is twelve; William, the Hotspur of the fam- ily, who is nine; Catherine, who is eight; and Don Carlos, who is four. There has been one other, Ephraim, who died in infancy; and there is another to come, of whom, however, they do not yet know, whose name will be Lucy. Three traits stand out promi- nently in these ten Smiths. They are, first, unswerving loyalty to one another and to their friends; second, a strong religious bent, which finds its main satisfaction in prayer and hymn and Bible reading, for none of them lays any great store by the churches; and, third, great physical energy, which finds vent in hard work mainly. Coming to Palmyra, from Ver- mont, four years ago with almost nothing, they have now a two- hundred-acre farm, largely paid for. And of this, thirty acres have been cleared of about as heavy timber and underbrush as can be found in the western part of the New York State of this period. Most of this "clearing" has been planted to maple sugar trees and sown periodically to cereals and other crops. TH"HEN the Smiths reach the ^ place where the camp-meet- ing is to be held, they take their seats with several hundred others. Having come early, they can find an empty bench toward the rear. But many who arrive later must perforce be content with a seat on a tree-stump or a fallen log or even on the ground. For "multitudes" have been at- tracted to this spiritual revival. From near and far they have come — farm-folk, shop-keepers, day la- borers, everybody. And they will stay, too, till the meetings are all over, whether it requires a week or a month, and the work at home in the meantime can take care of itself. Those who live close by, like the Smith family, may come

The Improvement Era for July, 1930 60S and go as they will, without neg- lecting their daily tasks overmuch. But those who live at a distance have had to bring with them their tents, their bedding, their food, and their cows even, as well as their work horses and their saddle ponies. TN the direction in which the -■ crowds are facing is a rude plat- form. It is for the preachers. On the opposite side of the clearing, deep in the trees and on the edges, are the vehicles in which the re- vivalists have come, with the tents in which they eat and sleep. It is now full daylight. The sun is just coming up. Presently the bugle blows a loud blast. The buzz of conversation ceases for a moment, but rises again in tones suppressed. But hush ! Here are the preach- ers. There are five of them — three local and two foreign ministers. The imported preachers are noted "exhorters," brought here for the purpose. For no one is allowed to speak at a revival that has not the power to work up the crowd to a fervid pitch of emotion. That is what a religious revival is for. Ex- pectation is on tip-toe. Only the twittering of the birds in the tree tops can now be heard. "CJ YMNS are sung. They are ex- ■■- tremely emotional At first peo- ple are afraid of their voices, and so not all of them take part in the singing. But as it goes on, hardly a voice but is lifted loud in song. And in the end the very air is charged with tense feeling. One of the preachers "leads in prayer." He is a local man. For half an hour he prays. His hands are clasped before him; his face is lifted up toward heaven; his voice fluctuates between a whisper and a shout. And here and there, all over the clearing, are cries of "Amen, amen!" When the pray- er is ended, the man's face runs with sweat drops. "\TEXT, one of the imported -^ ministers, a professional ex- horter and circuit rider, speaks. He begins in a loud voice, for feeling is already in a high key every- where. For two hours he talks, and shouts, and gesticulates wild- ly. When he is through, he is like one whose life has gone out of him. Another exhorter takes his J OHN HENRY EVANS is the author of "One Hundred Years of Mormonism," "Our Church and People," "The Spoken Word," "How to Teach Religion," "Chil- dren of the Promise," "The Mes- sage and Characters of the Book of Mormon." He is now writing "The Heart of Mormonism," a work of 600 pages — to be used in the Seminaries — new in its solution of material and approach to teach- ings and history of the Church. He came to Utah from Wales as a child. After taking his A. B. degree from the U. of U. he spent two summert in the University of California. place, and follows in the same strain. The effect of this singing and praying and preaching is tremen- dous. Over here men and women are falling down unconscious, and are carried out by friends who are not themselves overcome by the ner- vous strain. Over there a man be- gins to bark like a dog. Pretty soon he runs off into the woods, followed by other men, also bark- ing furiously. They gather, out there, round a tree, look up into its upper branches, and bark vocif- erously. They have "treed the devil." And in another place a man laughs hysterically in what is called the "holy laugh." He is followed by others, first those nearest him and then those far- thest away, till almost every one has caught the contagion. Most of those who attend the revivals "get religion" in some form or another. As for the rest, many of them in the end may be seen to plunge into the depths of the forest with the despairing cry on their lips, "Lost I Lost!" AND what have the preachers "**• said that has aroused the feel- ings of the people to such a high pitch? Mainly they have talked of hell. Hell is a dreadful place — "a dark, bottomless pit, full of fire and brimstone." That is what one of the exhorters tells them, quoting from the Methodist "Catechism." And he goes on to say, still quoting, that "the wick- ed in hell will be punished by hav- ing their bodies tormented with fire, and their souls by a sense of the wrath of God." The "wick- ed" are all those who have not joined some church. Even unbap- tized infants are in this class; they sizzle and writhe "with the rest in the intense heat. VOU have no difficulty in pic- ■- turing sinners in hell. A boundless ocean of black flames, from which there comes no light, but only heat. Countless billions of naked human bodies — men, women, and children. They writhe in the most excruciating pain of body and mind. They breathe liquid fire. Fire issues from their eyes, their ears, their nose without respite. Their limbs are twisted and distorted into shapes that defy description, so horrible are they. It is at this point in the revival that many women faint. They are thinking of their little dead ba- bies who were not baptized. Nor is that all. God and the saints in heaven are pictured as de- riving great joy out of this scene of anguish and suffering. This of itself is sufficient compensation to the "saved" for their life on earth of self-denial. 'THE image of Deity "holding ■*■ sinners with one hand over the pit of hell, while he torments them with the other;'' of God "rushing against you in all his wrath, like an infuriated tiger;" and more striking images of a similar kind — these bring their full quota of sighs, tears, groans, and beatings of the breast from both men and women, as they think what their lot will be if they do not embrace the faith as taught in some one of the churches. And when will all this horror end for the doomed sinner? Ah, never, literally never! "After millions of years," says one of the preachers, "it will only be begun. God's wrath will be al- ways 'wrath to come.' No pause in that storm." And another de- clared that "the bodies of the damned will all be salted with fire, so tempered and prepared as to burn the more fiercely, and yet nev- er consumed." And still another, quoting from Jonathan Edwards, says, "After millions and millions of ages your torment will be no nearer an end than ever it was." "COR the men who conduct this revival have but a poor opin- ion of human nature. All men are thoroughly bad. All women and children also — especially wo- men, who are so often and easily led by the devil. And they are all

604 The Improvement Era for July, 1930 bad because of the "fall" of Adam, in which they neither gave nor withheld their consent. The only way they can be saved is to join one of the churches. Any one of them will do. No person there even thinks of asking a question like that of the old pagan chief — What has become of those who never heard of Christ? And one of the greatest churches of the time teaches that millions of men and women are damned before they are born even, and millions are saved in the same way. It is the doc- trine of "predestination." Nor do these preachers have a very high opinion of God, either. For they ascribe to him some very horrible qualities. One of them says that "the wrath of God will be poured out upon the wicked without mixture of mercy." An- other speaks of the "devouring God," as if Deity were some fero- cious wild beast, and of the "sham- bles of Omnipotence." A "sham- ble," as you may already know, is a slaughter-house. And then God is described as inventing all sorts of strange engines of torture for sinners in hell. Indeed, God's chief characteristic would appear to be his "wrath," which he is forever "visiting" on some one or other, either here or in that bot- tomless pit with black flames. WHO is responsible for this monstrous deity with his place of terror? We do not know, and it does not matter in the least. Of this, however, we may be sure— every good, orthodox Chris- tian believes this characterization of God and hell and the sinner, not only in the United States, but in England and on the con- tinent of Europe. Even the preach- ers themselves approve the picture, except in moments when their better nature and good sense comes to the surface. Jonathan Edwards, the worst offender of them all, once admitted to a friend that he sometimes had his doubts and fears in the matter of God's treatment of sinners. The Smiths go home that night — for the revival has kept up all day and the greater part of the night — with many thoughts in their heads. Especially one of the boys. A BOY comes out from under *• the wide-spreading eaves of a log house, into the front yard. He is about fourteen years old — tall for his age, and awkward, like most growing boyls. Yet, as you look into his piercing blue eyes, deep-set, in an oval face, and at the abundant blond, wavy hair, your attention is arrested by some- thing back of it all, like the prom- ise of a' fair day held out by a brilliant sunrise. The log cabin, out of which the boy has just come, has a tem- porary look. Low by comparison with town houses, it is as if it were endeavoring to attract to it- self as little attention as possible. It is chinked with mud and topped with split poles overlaid with "dirt." And the door is low — too low for the stalwart men folk who live inside. The win- dows, too, are unconscionably small, as if they feared to let in too much sunshine. "DUT that was the way of log ^ houses in pioneer times every- where. Above their rough, un- hewn logs and apologetic air al- ways hung the rainbow of a better day — a day when they would be supplanted by commodious struc- tures of lumber or stone or brick. In front of the youth, to the west, is a rail fence. On the other side of this fence is a roadway with deep ruts in it, made by wagon wheels in the soft earth; and beyond this roadway is an- other rail fence. These he climbs leisurely, going over each of fhe fences one leg at a time. Then he enters a narrow lane leading westward, down a gentle decline, past a cooper's shop with a board floor, to a brook over which is a bridge. It is not much to look at, this bridge, for it is only five poles thrown across the stream and held together by strips of board. But it will do. Down he walks unhastingly, his head bent forward slightly, as of one who is meditating deeply, or troubled. Of what is he think- ing? He reaches the small creek. There is water in it — not much, but enough to make a faint mur- muring sound. He pauses jand looks around. HE glances back at the house. It stands in the midst of a cfearing. All around is the forest, centuries old, in which, as he very well knows, are other clearings with other log cabins and yards and outhouses. Workers are in the field, plowing and otherwise preparing the soil for the seed that is soon to be planted. They are his father and his brothers. And noisy, petulant crows flit hither and yon along the black furrow, seeking for worms. By rights he should be with these workers, for in spite of his fourteen years, he has a man's body. But he is not with them. He has other business in hand. After that is done he will square himself with them and with his mother, whom he has left in the house and who imagines, no doubt, that he has gone to join them in the field. He looks up at the sky. The sun is low in the east. Not a cloud is to be seen anywhere. What a glorious day it is! How sweet the breath of spring! The gentle movement of the water comes up to him, and he glances down at it. Already the grass has begun to tinge with green the banks just above the stream. XJE turns his eyes toward the •■• west. There is a slight rise, almost imperceptible, as if the ground had decided to make an upland and then changed its mind. The spot yonder is covered with trees. It is the grove. But the place has not been denuded be- cause the ground cannot profitably be cultivated. His gaze drops again to the narrow road that leads from where the bridge is to where the trees are. But the grove holds his eyes riveted, as if he entertains serious thoughts concerning it. Pretty soon he crosses over the bridge, walks forward to the west with some boldness as of a mind made up at last, and disappears from sight among the trees. AN hour later — or is it longer than that? he emerges from the grove. Somehow he looks different, al- though you cannot tell in what respect. He goes down the narrow road to the brook, passes over the rail bridge, goes slowly up the incline past the cooper's shop with the board floor, retraces his steps over the road with the wagon ruts, and enters the log cabin. Something very strange, even extraordinary, must have hap- pened over there among the trees. There can be no doubt about that. when you take into consideration all the appearances.

The Improvement Era for July, 1930 605 For one thing, as he comes along the road to where the brook is and up the incline leading to the log cabin, he takes no note whatever of anything around him — neither of the grass, nor the water, nor the breath of spring, nor the work- ers in the field with the crows following them noisily, nor the forest encircling all. He is as un- conscious of these as if they did not exist. Straight ahead he presses, completely absorbed in his thoughts. AND for another thing, he ap- ■**■ pears both very pale and very weak, as of one who has had a terrible encounter. All the color has gone from his cheeks, that be- fore were so full of health. His legs look for all the world as if they will give way any minute and drop him down on the road. Especially is this the case when he is in the act of climbing over those rail fences. And his azure eyes have that strange, far-away look in them that you see in persons who are utterly oblivious to their surroundings. Entering the house, he walks up to the fireplace and leans against the mantel for sup- port. His mother is putting the finishing touches on a piece of oilcloth intended for a table cov- ering. Without looking up, she asks him about the men in the field, in the mistaken impression, evidently, that he has come from them. He does not answer. She repeats the question, and when he does not reply this time either, she lifts her eyes to his face. Clearly she is alarmed. She rises and goes up to him. She puts her hand caressingly on his shoulder. "Joseph, what is the matter? Are you sick? Has anything hap- pened?" "I am all right, mother," he answers. "Nothing is the matter with me." She looks into his face long and anxiously, then goes back to her painting. But her attention is divided between her work and her son, for she looks now at the one and now at the other. Pretty soon Joseph speaks again. He says, "Mother, I have found out for myself that Presbyterian- ism is wrong." Presbyterianism is the mother's church, which she has but recently joined — not without misgivings. A thunderclap from a clear sky. HTHE mother pauses in her work ■■ and scans the boy's face curi- ously. She gazes about as if in bewilderment, then resumes her ap- plication of the brush to the cloth. Presently she says, without look- ing up — "What was that you said just now about Presbyterianism, Jos- eph?" "That it's not the true church, mother; any more than Method- ism is, or any of the other church- es. She says never a word. "I know it, mother. There is no doubt at all about it in my mind." "But how do you know that, son? "In the very best of ways, mother. I know it because God has told me!" "Joseph, my boy!" "That is the truth, mother. I have just had a vision — and Oh, how wonderful it was!" "Tell me about it, Joseph dear. I would like to hear about it. You know, I believe in visions and revelation, and I have often wondered why so few in the churches do." "V^OU remember, mother, my ■■ telling you last week about that passage in James — 'If any of you lack wisdom, let him ask of God, that giveth to all men liberally, and upbraideth not; and it shall be given him?' Well, I have been thinking about that verse ever since. I could not get it out of my head. It worried me very much. "I knew I needed wisdom, if any one did, for I didn't know which of the churches to join. But as soon as I decided to pray about it, I became afraid. You know I've never prayed aloud in my life. The more I thought of it, though, the more uneasy I got. And so I made up my mind that I would put James to the test, no matter how hard it might be. "And so this morning I went over to the grove yonder to pray, where no one would see me. "As soon as I had knelt down and begun to pray aloud, some dreadful power from the unseen world took hold of me. It was a real person, mother, I am sure, although I could not see him. My tongue was bound, so that I could not utter a sound; thick darkness gathered round me, so that I could not see anything; and I was thrown to the ground, unable to move. I thought my time had come, so terrible was it all. But I kept on praying in my heart for God to deliver me from this power. JUST as I was about to give up in despair, I saw above me a bright light 'way over the tops of the trees. It was very bright — brighter than the light of the sun at noon, only different. I kept my mind on that light. For as it came down towards me, the horrible power that held me bound began to loosen its hold, and pret ty soon I was free again. "Then I saw that I was sur- rounded by the bright light. In the light were two Persons, They were not standing on the ground, but in the air a little off the ground in front of me. They exactly resembled each other in form and features. "One of them said to me, 'Jos- eph, this is my beloved Son. Hear him.' At the same time he point- ed to the other. "As soon as I could get over my astonishment, I asked this holy Personage which of all the churches I should join. "He said I should not join any of them, for they were all wrong. That is why I told you that Pres- byterianism is not the true church, and that I knew it. Just think, mother, not any of them is right, and we all thought that some one of them must be, but didn't know which." 'T'HE boy pauses at the idea. His ■*■ face is a study, as indeed it has been all along, with its changing expressions of seriousness and joy, of distress and awe, or surprise and ecstasy. For Joseph's coun- tenance is a perfect register of his ever-varying emotions and thoughts-which his mother, from long experience, knows how to interpret. "What else were you told, Jos- eph?" "Why, I was told that the doc- trines taught by the churches are not of God at all, but of men, and that they are an abomination to him." (Continued on page 624)