Baptism for the Dead is one of the beliefs that make the LDS Church distinctive among religions today. Frequently discussions with non-Mormons focus on what Paul meant in 1 Cor. 15:29 while ignoring the broader question that our doctrine addresses with proxy ordinances: If baptism is required for everyone, then what about those who passed on without it? Or, to put it another way, don’t we have a responsibility to others, less fortunate than we are? Regardless of whether they are alive or dead?

Of course, if we accept this responsibility for the dead, what does that say about our responsibilities to those who are living? We can hardly believe that we should extend grace to those who have passed on and at the same time ignore the needs of those around us, regardless of whether or not they are related to us, look like us, or are strangers. While this lesson emphasizes the doctrine of Baptism for the Dead, it also suggests that we are to care for our families and others, keeping records of what was done and enduring the inevitable difficulties.

 

The Lord wants me to care for my family.

Today we should probably see the mother’s traditional care for family as a metaphor for what we all should do. As the following poem suggests, our lives are often lost in sacrifice for our families, with things like our bodies and abilities lost in the tasks offered to others over the years of our lives. Unfortunately, this poem is of its time, and in addition to its view of women’s roles also suggests that somehow parents can make sure their children will follow the expected path. Conversely, it is more likely that parents can do the opposite, make sure their children don’t follow the expected path.

Lydia Alder was one of the prolific LDS women poets of the turn of the century. Born in England in 1846, she immigrated with her family in 1854. By the late 1860s she was involved in women’s sufferage efforts in Utah and in the Relief Society. She served an LDS mission to England in 1899, and attended the funeral of Queen Victoria before returning in 1901. This poem was written just a couple of years before her death in 1923.

 

Life’s Summary

by Lydia D. Alder

I’ve washed the family dishes and the clothes,

Prepared the daily meals and sewed, and then

Have swept the house and dusted day by day,

And o’er Life’s River carried babies ten.

My figure is lost, girlish looks all gone.

My curly hair of brown is turned to gray;

My hands no longer small nor shapely are,

For they have borne life’s burdens ev’ry day.

That I have learned to suffer I am glad,

And proudly hold my babies by the hand;

For motherhood has made of me a queen,

O’er lover subjects in our own fair land.

And I await a coming gladsome time,

When with my lovers I to God shall say,

Here are they all, my Father – none are lost,

Thy precious gifts – may they be mine alway.

1921

 

I can rely on the Lord during difficult times.

Caring for others often means that we need to care for those who are suffering. Yes, we should rely on the Lord when we encounter difficult times, and this poem by Hannah Last Cornaby (author of the hymn, “Who’s on the Lord’s Side”) shows how to look to the Lord in suffering. But, as friends and neighbors of those who are suffering, we also have the responsibility to reach out and help.

Hannah Last (1822-1905) was an English convert along with her husband Samuel Cornaby. The couple married in 1851, joined the Church in 1852 and immigrated to Utah in 1853, where Hannah became involved with the Relief Society and the Woman’s Exponent. She published her book, Autobiography and Poems of Hannah Cornaby, in 1881.

 

Lead Me To the Rock

by Hannah Last Cornaby

When my spirit with sorrow is overwhelmed,

Then, from out of the depths comes the cry,

As my earthly friends leave me, lead me I pray,

“To the rock that is higher than I.”

As my children, by death, are called from my arms,

To their Father and Mother on High;

Then, all lonely and weak, I pray to be led,

“To the rock that is higher than I.”

In affliction’s dark hour, when heart and flesh fail,

And temptations my faith sorely try,

Then, more earnest I cling, for strength and defense,

“To the rock that is higher than I.”

If prosperity sheds its light on my path,

And kind friends, to encourage, are nigh,

In thanksgiving and praise, I ever am led,

“To the rock that is higher than I.”

When I seek at earth’s cisterns, my thirst to assuage,

And find them all broken and dry,

Then lead me I pray, for the life giving draught,

“To the rock that is higher than I.”

Or, when persecution and trouble assail,

And their arrows are swift hurling by,

I fear not the shafts; while for shelter I’m led

“To the rock that is higher than I.”

E’en death, the last enemy cannot destroy,

While upon a strong arm I rely;

The Priesthood eternal is leading me on,

“To the rock that is higher than I.”

1881

 

“Whatsoever you record on earth shall be recorded in heaven.”

Can we see records as a way of caring for others? A journal has the benefit of keeping us (and others) accountable for what we did. We might find that we haven’t treated others as we should have, blinded by who we were at the time. Or, we might find that others haven’t done as they should, and time has obscured memories of what happened. While the records we keep aren’t necessarily “True”, in the sense of a complete and honest record of what happened, they are testimonies to a view of what happened. Even if the view kept is dishonest, it can still help reveal truth.

This uncertainty about our lives and what records will say about us are explored in the following poem by Esther Ann Birch Bennion. Born in England in 1833, Esther immigrated to Utah in 1855 and became the second wife to John Bennion the following year (his first wife was also named Esther). She wrote this poem in 1885, 8 years after her husband died, and clearly as she was looking back over her 52 years. But while this might seem like an end-of-life poem, Esther lived another 24 years, passing away in 1909.

 

My Record

by Esther A. Bennion

All day long I have baffled with care—

Go from my presence, thou restless sprite,

Leave me to rest in my old armchair,

Leave me alone with my thoughts tonight.

 

Slowly rolls backward the curtain of time,

Bringing me back to my early youth;

Back to my home in my native clime,

Where gladly I heard the message of truth.

 

I plainly remember the vows I made

To serve my God with a faithful heart,

To seek to become a saint indeed,

If strength sufficient he would impart.

 

Year after year has faded away;

Joys and sorrows have come to me;

The hair of my head is sprinkled with grey,

My step more feeble than used to be.

 

Have I been true to the vows I made—

What is the record my conscience bears?

Have I been true to the light I had—

Instead of wheat am I sowing tares?

 

Come, little children, and plead for me;

Have I not loved you with love untold?

Have I not taught you most earnestly

Truths that are better than silver or gold?

 

You that were lent to me, sons of my heart,

Will you not answer me frankly and just,

Have I not acted a true mother’s part,

Have I not tried to be true to my trust?

 

Where are the aged and weary tonight,

Have I not striven to comfort and bless,

Have I not ever defended the right,

And held out a hand to help in distress?

 

I wish I could peep at the records above—

In courts of heaven—by angels kept, ,

To see if my name is written in love,

Or branded as one who “slumbered and slept”.

 

Resting awhile in my old armchair,

All alone, in the dead of the night,

With none but God and my conscience near,

I fear my record is far from bright.

 

Ah me! I have made so many mistakes;

Have failed so often my duty to see;

“The spirit is willing, the flesh is weak”.

Father, I pray thee, deal gently with me!

1885

 

The salvation of my ancestors is essential to my salvation.

While, as the lesson suggests, baptizing our ancestors benefits us, the initial reaction among members of the Church was much more about the benefit for our ancestors, working for their salvation. The enthusiasm for the new doctrine led to many baptisms, and initially poor record keeping. The enthusiasm also appeared in LDS poetry at the time.

This included the following poem by Joel H. Johnson. One of the earliest baptized into the Church (in 1831), Johnson served several missions, lead a branch of the Church, and followed the Church from Kirtland to Nauvoo to Utah. A prolific poet, Johnson’s journal reportedly contains more than 700 poems. His oeuvre includes two hymns in the current hymnal, “High on a Mountain Top” and “The Glorious Gospel Light Has Shone.”

 

Baptism for the Dead

by Joel H. Johnson

The glorious gospel light has shown

In this the latter day.

With such intelligence that none

From truth need turn away.

 

For ‘mong things which have been sealed,

And from the world kept hid;

The Lord has to his saints revealed,

As anciently he did.

 

And thro’ the priesthood now restored,

Has e’en prepared the way,

Through which the dead may hear his word,

And all its truths obey.

 

As Christ to spirits went to preach,

Who were in prison laid;

So many saints have gone to teach

The gospel to the dead.

 

And we for them can be baptized;

Yes, for our friends most dear!

That they can with the just be raised,

When Gabriel’s trump they hear.

 

That they may come with Christ again,

When he to earth descends;

A thousand years with him to reign,

And with their earthly friends.

 

Now, O! ye saints, rejoice to-day,

That you can saviours be,

For all your dead who will obey

The gospel and be free.

 

Then let us rise without restraint,

And act for those we love;

For they are giving their consent,

And wait for us to move.

1841