It began in mid-January as Joseph began to administer the ordinances of the “endowment” as far as they had been revealed at that time. As a member of the quorum of elders and also a part of the building committee, Benjamin had been invited to be in attendance in the temple for one of the meetings. After several ordinances were performed, a remarkable thing happened. Joseph suddenly cried out. “The heavens are opened to my view.” His face seemed to radiate as Benjamin watched him in awe. Even as he looked on the vision, Joseph told the others what he saw. Gates of encircling fire, streets paved with gold, the blazing throne of God. To his amazement, he also saw his brother Alvin there. Alvin had died before the Church was restored, so it surprised Joseph to see him in God’s kingdom. “All who have died without a knowledge of this gospel,” the Lord explained, “who would have received it if they had been permitted to tarry, shall be heirs of the celestial kingdom of God.”
Following that remarkable experience, the power of the Spirit burst upon the whole group. Some cried out that visions were opened to their view. Others testified that angels ministered to them. Some even said they saw the face of the Savior as they communed with the heavenly hosts.
And now Benjamin understood his own sense of melan-choly. That night in the temple, Benjamin had thrilled to it all, believed every man who testified, but he personally saw nothing. And over the following weeks, when men spoke in tongues and others interpreted for them, when they were moved to prophesy or had the visions of eternity opened to their view, he was always an observer, but nothing more.
The choir had come to the chorus of the hymn and, if anything, sang with even greater fervor than before. Benjamin followed the words intently as they sang.
We’ll sing and we’ll shout with the armies of heaven— Hosanna, hosanna to God and the Lamb!
It nearly shook the rafters as the Saints in the choir thundered out their hosannas.
Let glory to them in the highest be given,
Henceforth and forever: amen and amen!
Now he understood. His eyes ran from man to man, from leader to leader. These were the stalwarts of the faith. One only had to glance from face to face to know of great sacrifice, great commitment. As a member of the building committee, Benjamin had been in a unique position to know just what this building represented, how many tears had wet the stone walls, how much heart was represented by every course of masonry.
In front of him, directly to one side of the western pulpits, stood Brigham Young. A year ago, Benjamin had been at a neighbor’s house and witnessed a scene he would never forget. Brigham Young had come, hat in hand, to ask for a loan of money. He was destitute and his family was starving. The weather had been well below freezing, but Benjamin had watched the sweat roll off Brigham’s face as he had to face the humiliation of asking another man for a handout.
Directly behind the Steeds sat Noah Packard and his wife. Baptized by Parley Pratt in 1832, the Packards sold their farm and came to Kirtland. Though it left them impoverished, Noah cheerfully donated more than a thousand dollars to the temple fund. Across the aisle was Oliver B. Huntington. He had been a wealthy farmer back in upstate New York when Joseph had visited there in ‘35. Joseph asked the Huntingtons to sell their farm and come to Kirtland as quickly as possible. Huntington obeyed, taking a loss of fifteen hundred dollars in order to sell the farm quickly. Further setbacks awaited him in Kirtland. An unscrupulous member of the Church, who later apostatized, cheated Huntington on a mortgage. In a matter of six months Huntington went from comfortable affluence to abject poverty. Just two months ago Benjamin had sent food over to the Huntingtons’ house after learning that for the past month they had had nothing but beech leaves, string beans, and an occasional scanty portion of corn bread. Yet day after day Oliver Huntington had been at the temple site, laboring cheerfully in the service of God. Not once had Benjamin ever heard a murmur of complaint from him. Not once had he ever heard him criticize the Prophet for calling him to come to Kirtland.
There were dozens of similar cases. Benjamin shook his head. No wonder they had had a Pentecostal season! And no wonder that he had not. What had he done? Fought Joseph Smith bitterly. Forbidden his family to read the Book of Mormon. True, he had finally come around, he had finally put all that behind him, but it had taken so long. And what had he sacrificed? He was prospering. Everything he seemed to set his hand to blossomed. He and his family had not gone without food. They were in a comfortable home.
How blessed the day when the lamb and the lion
Shall lie down together without any ire,
And Ephraim be crowned with his blessing in Zion,
As Jesus descends with His chariots of fire!
Benjamin dropped his head, feeling a great shame. Now he understood why on this great day of Pentecost he felt nothing but sorrow.
“Benjamin, my son.”
Benjamin’s head snapped up.
“Listen to my words, my son. Be still and know that I am God.”
Later he would conclude that he didn’t hear the voice as much as he felt it. It came inside his mind, but the effect was to permeate every fibre of his being to the point that he felt as if his whole body were on fire.
“Your sacrifice is acceptable unto me. I am well pleased with your desires and with your labors on my house. Murmur not about those things which you have not yet seen. Ye are not able to abide the presence of God now, neither the ministering of angels; wherefore, continue in patience until ye are perfected.”
The rest of the dedicatory service was mostly a blur in Benjamin Steed’s mind. After the choir finished singing “The Spirit of God Like a Fire Is Burning,” the sacrament of the Lord’s Supper was administered to all present. Oliver Cowdery spoke. Frederick G. Williams rose and testified that while Sidney Rigdon was offering the invocation earlier, he had seen a being enter through the window and take a seat between him and Father Smith. Joseph later explained that it was the Apostle Peter. David Whitmer testified that he also had seen heavenly beings. President Rigdon arose and led them in the Hosanna Shout, a shout that nearly lifted the roof right off the temple. Brigham Young spoke in tongues, David Patten interpreted.
He was vaguely aware of it all, but for Benjamin Steed one thing burned all the others into insignificance, and that was the words, “My son, your sacrifice is acceptable unto me.”
Lydia stepped back into the kitchen area of her mother-in-law’s house.
Mary Ann looked up. “Is he asleep?”
“Yes, thank goodness.”
“It’s been a long day, but he was so good in the temple.”
“I know, it was wonderful.” Lydia suddenly stopped, the emotion rising unbidden. “When I think—” She swallowed, then tried again. “When I think about possibly not being there, I can hardly stand it. If we were still in Palmyra...” She couldn’t finish. Mary Ann patted the chair next to her and Lydia came over, sat beside her, and took her hand.
Jessica sat on a chair in the corner, knitting a shawl for Rachel. She nodded, her own eyes suddenly misty. “And I could have stayed in Missouri,” she whispered.
“All right, now,” Melissa said, coming in from the parlor where she had been changing little David, “don’t make this any harder on me than it already is.”
“I’m sorry, Melissa,” Lydia said. “I know how badly you wanted to be there.”
Mary Ann decided to change the subject. “Do you think the brethren will have anything like that happen tonight?”
They all contemplated that for a minute. Joseph had reconvened priesthood holders for another service. Nathan and Benjamin had left just a few minutes earlier to be in attendance for the evening’s meeting.
They all jumped as the front door to the house exploded inward, slamming against the wall. “Mama, Mama!” Little Emily burst into the kitchen with Joshua hard on her heels.
Lydia jumped up in alarm. “What is it?”
“They’re meeting on the temple!” Emily blurted. “Come see.”
“They’re what?” the women all said at once.
“It’s true, Mama,” Joshua gasped. “Quick, come and see.”
In a moment they all rushed through the house and out of the front door. Mary Ann stopped and gaped in amazement. It
was
true. There were people on the top of the temple, walking back and forth. Though it was late afternoon, it was still full daylight, and while they were nearly two blocks away, they could see the people clearly. Then, even as she watched, Mary Ann felt a shiver shoot up her spine. The people on the temple had disap-peared. In an instant they were back again, walking and conversing. Then again they disappeared.
“Who are those men?” Melissa asked. “That’s dangerous up there.”
Lydia was staring, one hand to her mouth. She had seen what Mary Ann had seen. “They’re not men,” she whispered breathlessly.
Melissa jerked around as though she had been yanked with a rope. It was true. The figures on top of the temple could be seen clearly. They were dressed in white, with robes that came down to the ankles. And they disappeared, then reappeared.
At that moment, Matthew came tearing around from the back of the house, Rachel and young Carl in tow. He pulled up short at the sight of the women. “Listen, Mother!”
Mary Ann looked at him in surprise, but in obedience to the urgency in his voice, cocked her head. The others did the same.
“What is it?” Emily cried in alarm, moving closer to her mother.
“Listen!”
They all heard it together. At first it sounded like the beginnings of a breeze sighing in the trees, but it swelled rapidly in volume. Mary Ann stared upwards at the treetops around them. Nothing there stirred, and the sound was not really coming from above. She turned her head. It was coming from the direction of the temple.
Across the street, their neighbor Sister Carlson came dashing out. She looked up, then when she also saw nothing she ran over to them. “What is it!” She had to shout to make herself heard.
Jessica cupped her hands, instinctively bracing herself against the wind that was not there. “We don’t know,” she yelled.
All up and down the street now, people were coming out of their houses, staring up into the sky.
Suddenly Mary Ann started. “I know,” she cried.
They all swung around to stare at her. “In the book of Acts. Remember? On the day of Pentecost?”
Jessica’s eyes widened. Lydia nodded, understanding. Melissa still looked puzzled, so Mary Ann leaned closer toward her. “The Bible says that when the tongues of fire appeared, there was a sound like the sound of a mighty rushing wind which filled the house.”
They stood there for a moment in awe, no one moving as the sound finally began to die gradually. Mary Ann turned toward the temple. The roof line was clear now. The figures were gone. She felt a pang of disappointment. But then, just as she was about to turn back, her eyes looked again. The temple seemed to be glowing more brightly.
“Look,” Matthew cried out beside her. Then she knew her eyes were not deceiving her.
Melissa unconsciously pulled David closer to her.
“What is it?” little Joshua whispered.
No one answered. A shaft of light, like a mighty pillar of fire, enveloped the entire building now, and the temple glowed as though the very walls were made of light.
“What is it?” Lydia whispered, echoing her son.
Mary Ann slowly turned. “Our sacrifice is accepted,” she said slowly. “God has accepted his house.”
Approximately four hundred brethren had gathered back in the temple for a special priesthood session called by Brother Joseph. This time Joseph was conducting the meeting. It started out normally enough. After a hymn and prayer, Joseph told those assembled that on the upcoming Wednesday those present would participate in the sacred ordinance of the washing of feet. He cited from the scriptural account of when the Savior performed the ordinance for the eleven Apostles in the Upper Room in Jerusalem, then instructed them as to how the ordinance was to be performed. Nathan was very much sobered by the time Joseph finished. This would be a sacred and holy experience indeed.
But then Joseph’s demeanor changed. Now he was speaking to them on the subject of the spirit of prophecy. He indicated that it was one of the gifts of the Spirit, and that as members of the Church and righteous priesthood holders, it was their right and privilege to exercise that gift.
Nathan glanced out of the corner of his eye at his father. Benjamin was leaning forward, totally enraptured with what Joseph was saying. Joseph had paused now. Every eye was on him. No one so much as stirred.
“Brethren,” Joseph said quietly, “I now call upon the congregation to speak. The spirit of prophecy belongs to you, so do not fear to prophesy good for the Saints. If you prophesy the falling of these hills and the rising of these valleys, if you prophesy the downfall of the enemies of Zion and the rising of the kingdom of God, it shall come to pass.”
His eyes swept over the assembly, seeming to catch each man’s eye and to hold it for a moment, though in actuality it was done in one moment. “Brethren, I tell you, the first one who rises to his feet and opens his mouth shall prophesy.”
For a moment the group was stunned. They glanced around at each other, and the air was filled with a sudden tension. Then, two rows in front of where Nathan sat, eighteen-year-old George A. Smith, cousin to the Prophet Joseph, stood up. He opened his mouth and began to speak, and Nathan gaped at him. Nathan had traveled for three months with this young man on Zion’s Camp. He had seen him wince with pain when his feet were so badly blistered that they left his boots wet with blood. He had stood shoulder-to-shoulder with him on a bluff overlooking the Fishing River and seen him tremble with fear. But now, George A. Smith threw his shoulders back and spoke with the roar of a lion.
Barely had he begun when another sound began to fill the temple. It was a pleasant day outside, and so the windows on both sides of the temple were open to the evening air. At first Nathan thought the wind had started to blow outside, but as he looked out he saw that it was not so. The leaves on the trees outside were limp and still. The sound rose rapidly in volume. It filled the great hall in which they met, like some roaring hurricane that drowned out all sounds but its own.