I am fascinated by Joseph Smith, the first prophet of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, known as the Mormons. Of course for me, he was the paramount spiritual leader, second only to Jesus Christ. And he accomplished much, all before forty years of age. Yet, throughout his life, Joseph Smith was constantly persecuted. This, I think, serves as a gauge of his greatness.
As Albert Einstein said:
Great spirits have always found violent opposition from mediocrities. The latter cannot understand it when a man does not thoughtlessly submit to hereditary prejudices, but honestly and courageously uses his intelligence and fulfills the duty to express the results of his thought in clear form. (Quoted in New York Times, March 19, 1940.)
One story from Joseph Smith’s youth always tugs at my heartstrings. When he was a preteen (we do not know the exact date, possibly about seven years old), Joseph Smith contracted typhoid fever. It was so severe that his left leg became infected.
A Dr. Nathan Smith (no family relation) of Dartmouth College was consulted. After examining young Joseph, he suggested amputation—indicating how severe the infection was. When the family objected, he then suggested performing an experimental surgery. It involved opening up the leg, drilling into the bone, and removing the infected matter.
Keep in mind that there were none of the niceties that we find in hospitals today. No CAT scans, no MRIs, no X-rays, no antibiotics. This was frontier surgery. And there was no general anesthesia. The first use of ether was in 1842; before that, it was either opium or liquor. So before they began the surgery, the doctors suggested that he take a swig of brandy to relax him. Then they would tie him down while they cut the bone.
Joseph Smith’s mother Lucy remembered the boy’s response this way:
“‘No,’ exclaimed Joseph, ‘I will not touch one particle of liquor, neither will I be tied down; but I will tell you what I will do—I will have my father sit on the bed and hold me in his arms, and then I will do whatever is necessary in order to have the bone taken out.’
“Looking at me, he said, ‘Mother, I want you to leave the room, for I know you cannot bear to see me suffer so; father can stand it, but you have carried me so much, and watched over me so long, you are almost worn out.’ Then looking up into my face, his eyes swimming in tears, he continued. ‘Now, mother, promise me that you will not stay, will you? The Lord will help me, and I shall get through with it.’” (Lucy Mack Smith, History of Joseph Smith, 57)
Imagine that: having your leg opened, the bone drilled, fourteen fragments removed, and all this while fully conscious. But he did it.
Even thought the experimental operation was a success, it took three years for Joseph Smith to recover (Rough Stone Rolling, 21). While he was convalescing, however, the family was forced to move from New Hampshire to Palmyra, New York for financial reasons.
Even in this weakened state, Joseph Smith was not immune from troubles. He explained what happened during their journey this way:
“After I began to get about, I went on crutches till I started for the State of New York, where my father had gone for the purpose of preparing a place for the removal of his family, which he affected by sending a man after us by the name of Caleb Howard, who, after he had started on, the journey with my mother and family spent the money he had received of my father by drinking and gambling, etc.”
“We fell in with a family by the name of Gates who were traveling west, and Howard drove me from the wagon and made me travel in my weak state through the snow 40 miles per day for several days, during which time I suffered the most excruciating weariness and pain, and all this that Mr. Howard might enjoy the society of two of Mr. Gates daughters which he took on the wagon where I should have rode.”
“And thus he continued to do day after day through the journey. And when my brothers remonstrated with Mr. Howard for his treatment to me, he would knock them down with the butt of his whip.”
“When we arrived at Utica, New York, Howard threw the goods out of the wagon into the street and attempted to run away with the horses and wagon. But my mother seized the horses by the reign, and calling witnesses forbid his taking them away as they were her property. On our way from Utica, I was left to ride on the last sleigh in the company, (the Gates family were in sleighs) but when that came up, I was knocked down by the driver, one of Gate’s sons, and left to wallow in my blood until a stranger came along, picked me up, and carried me to the town of Palmyra.” (Encyclopedia of Joseph Smith’s Teachings, 261)
This inhumane treatment—even child abuse—is unbelievable. But it reminds us that pain is real. Joseph’s being abused was real. His being kicked while he was down was real. That was just the physical pain—there was also the emotional pain. After all, imagine being ten years old, wounded, and being knocked down and abandoned in the snow, all in a strange part of the country.
I think we all feel like this at times. We get kicked when we are down, adding insult to injury. And sometimes, as Shakespeare pointed out, “when sorrows come, they come not single spies but in battalions!” (Hamlet IV.V.47-48). But like Joseph Smith, we can overcome difficulties. He was helped by an unknown stranger, which coincidentally, reminds me of the story of the Unknown Boy Scout.
William D. Boyce was an American entrepreneur and newspaperman. While in London in 1909, he got lost in the fog. He asked a young man for directions, was put aright, and when he offered the boy a tip, the young man refused. He said that he was a Boy Scout and only doing his duty.
Boyce was impressed with the lad, and from him got the address to the scouting office where he picked up a copy of Scouting For Boys. As a result of this second-nature, inconspicuous act of charity, scouting came to America. This is an impressive example of the Ripple Effect.
As Joseph Smith explained in his Wagon-Wheel Analogy, sometimes we are up, and sometimes we are down. And it is comforting to know that Jesus Christ has experienced these gyrations, too:
“He that ascended up on high, as also he descended below all things, in that he comprehended all things, that he might be in all and through all things, the light of truth” (D&C 88:6).
That is why He places people in our path to help us when we are down. Christ understands pain perfectly because He experienced it.
And if we are up, sometimes we have to be that Unknown Stranger to Joseph Smith or the Unknown Boy Scout to Boyce. We see someone in need, so we help them, and then disappear into the sunset without a thought of reward. For me, these times are the best—you feel like a spiritual secret agent.
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