The Living and the Dead
*
John Remy’s article “Saving the Dead: A Comparative Study of Post-funerary Rites in Japanese and Mormon Culture” in the November issue of Sunstone came to me, rather serendipitously, at a time I had been thinking about the very anti-Reformationist relationship we Mormons have with our dead. Like the Roman Catholics, we perform an obligation we believe the living owe the dead. Also like the Roman Catholics, we believe the dead have an obligation to perform for the living. We base our belief in this reciprocal relationship upon a unique interpretation of Malachi’s prophecy concerning the coming of Elijah.
After Elijah restored to Joseph Smith the power to seal in heaven that which was sealed on earth, he turned the heart of the children [the living] to their fathers [the dead]. This implies such Mormon works as genealogy and proxy ordinances for the dead so that those who have passed away without the blessings of the priesthood in this life may participate in those blessing in the spirit world. This activity is similar to the Roman Catholic performance of masses for the dead for the purpose of rescuing them from purgatory.Of course, there are important differences between that which is effected in the Mormon and Roman Catholic post-funerary rituals. One is a difference in cosmological geography. While the Roman Catholics view their dead as occupying a space below the earth but above hell, we Mormons reject the existence of hell and think of our dead as residing here on the earth itself, but behind a perceptual veil. Roman Catholics also believe their dead once saved move from purgatory to heaven; that being a change of location. We Mormons, on the other hand, view the move from Spirit Prison to Spirit Paradise as being a change of heart or spiritual condition. Nor do we believe that their post-funerary rituals effect this change as do Roman Catholics, but rather we believe the movement from Spirit Prison to Spirit Paradise is effected through changes in the behavior of the dead themselves, with the proxy work performed in the temple empowering the dead further once they have made the requisite changes in themselves.
Malachi’s prophecy also speaks of the heart of the fathers [the dead] turning to the children [the living]. This implies that the dead, once empowered by the blessings of the priesthood through the veil, are obligated to perform work for and on behalf of the living. What this work is exactly is never clearly defined by Mormon doctrine. There does seem to have existed within Mormonism the belief that our ancestral dead, once given the priesthood through the veil, become our guardian angels.
“All people have their guardian angels. Whether our departed dead guard us is not for me to say. I can say we have our guardian angels.” (Brigham Young. Journal of Discourses. Volume 13: December 10, 1868.) **
Here Brigham affirms a personal belief in guardian angels and acknowledges an extant belief among the Mormons of his time that such angels are our “departed dead” without supporting or denying such a belief. This belief continued into the 20th century. Church Patriarch, Hyrum G. Smith, said the following during the afternoon session of the October General Conference of 1928:
“I have been asked many times concerning a promise that is frequently given in blessings to the effect that the person would be guided by the influence nd promptings of his guardian angel. These people have said: ‘Brother Smith, who is our guardian angel?’ These spirits of our departed loved ones, as well as other spirits, may be appointed to act as our guardian angels, but they are special and come by appointment, while the Holy Spirit yields a constant influence over our lives for our guidance and protection.” **
In a Gospel Doctrine class sponsored by BYU extension services during the late 1970’s and early 1980’s, I heard this belief explained in greater detail. The guardian angels are, in fact, our ancestral dead being the spirits of just men made perfect through the administration by proxy of temple ordinance work. With the power of the priesthood through the veil, these spirits can then act on our behalf as agents under the authority of the Holy Spirit. Thus, these “departed dead” are able to act as the “still, small voice” delivering to us promptings of warning or spiritual confirmation when appointed to do so. They can even appear to us in the capacity of messenger or minister. Though this does not approach anything like official church doctrine, it does appear that a belief still exists within Mormon culture today that the dead have an equal obligation to the living and that that obligation is acted out through the office of guardian angel.
The Roman Catholic concept of guardian angels is quite different from that percolating through Mormon culture. The Roman Catholic doctrine of angels holds them to be a creation distinct from that of the race of men and that each human child is born with a guardian angel. (It is not the existence of guardian angels that Bruce R McConkie denies in his Mormon Doctrine, but rather the Roman Catholic notion of guardian angels.)
It is the Roman Catholic notion of saints that bears a greater similarity to the Mormon understanding of guardian angels. Saints are the spirits of once mortal men and women whose lives were so pious and exemplary that they were spared the justice of purgatory and are granted immediate ascension to heaven. Like the Mormon spirits of just men made perfect, Roman Catholic saints perform an intercessory function on behalf of the living. There is still the geographical difference involved here. Roman Catholic saints are in heaven, while the departed “fathers” are, as far as Mormons are concerned, still resident upon the earth. There is also a difference in protocol. While Roman Catholics may petition a saint directly, Mormons may only petition God the Father. Such is in accordance with the Mormon view of both the spirit world and heaven as being organized and administered in a hierarchal and corporate fashion similar to that of the institution of the earthly church.
With the Reformation, most of northern Europe abandoned the Roman Catholic obligation to the dead. In his 2006 Sterling M. McMurrin Lecture on Religion and Culture: “Spiritual Apartheid: Protestantism and the Reformation of the Hereafter” (delivered at the Tanner Humanities Center Conference “Hell and Its Afterlife: Comparative and Historical Perspectives”), Carols Eire, the Riggs Professor of History and Religious Studies at Yale, attributes this to, among other things, a revolt against the financial burden such an obligation imposed upon the faithful. The Church proposed that thousands of masses needed to be said for each loved one before he or she could be freed from purgatory. The cost born for such post-funerary rituals could become trans-generational through the donation to the church of tracts of land. By the end of the Middle Ages, as much as one quarter of all the real estate in Europe belonged to the Church through this mechanism of payment. But Reformation leaders did not only see this practice as the sin of simony, they also saw it as evidence of a corrupt theology, an accretion to the Church of pagan magic and superstition. Reformation leaders acknowledged that spirits might appear to men from time to time, but that such could not be the disincarnate ghost of a loved one but rather an un-incarnate demon posing as a ghost. (So it would be that the Witch of Endor could not have conjured for Saul the ghost of the prophet Samuel, but instead called forth a demon taking upon itself the appearance and voice of Samuel.)
Although a product of Protestant culture, Joseph Smith’s installation of post-funerary rituals in temples reversed this aspect of the Reformation and gestured back toward Roman Catholic practice. In the medieval Church as well as in Mormon doctrine, not attending to the dead was a sin. This innovation complicates our understanding of Moroni 8:22 where the Nephite prophet addresses himself to the spiritual condition of those who live without the law of God.
“For behold that all little children are alive in Christ, and also all they that are without the law. For the power of redemption cometh on all them that have no law; wherefore, he that is not condemned, or he that is under no condemnation, cannot repent; and unto such baptism availeth nothing—“
If such are under no condemnation, then why should those who have died without the law be in need of baptism? Joseph’s thinking on this subject evidently evolved over time and no clear reconciliation with earlier teachings seems to have been made.
Some Mormons will certainly see this Roman Catholic obligation to the dead as a vestigial remnant of primitive or Apostolic Christianity, but such a practice could not have come to Christianity through the Pharisaical Judaism or the Levitical temple cult of Christ’s day. In Understanding Genesis, Nahum Sarna, the Dora Golding Professor Emeritus of Biblical Studies at Brandeis University, convincingly establishes Second Temple Judaism’s utter rejection of the ancient gods of magic and access to the dead.
Of course, there is Paul’s enigmatic reference in 1 Corinthians to the practice of baptism for the dead, but of whom is he speaking? It is unclear who exactly is practicing this ordinance. Despite how we Mormons like to employ this passage of scripture, Paul’s central argument intends to establish the reality of the ressurrection and not the validity of baptisms for the dead. He is demonstrating the logical inconsistency in following such a practice “if the dead rise not at all.” But we are left to guess at the identity of “they” or “those”who are baptised for the dead. The Greek demonstrative pronoun used in this verse seems to indicate that Paul was speaking of a group outside that of his followers.
Interestingly, John Remy’s article demonstrates similar post-funerary practices within a non-Christian context suggesting a reciprocal relationship between the living and the dead similar to that of Mormonism. In Japanese culture, the living aid the dead in their progress toward perfection:
“Through a series of rites, the spirit moves from impure association with death to ultimate assimilation into the pure and godlike ancestral spirit.” (Remy. “Saving the Dead” Sunstone November 2006)
Reciprocity is achieved when the perfected ancestors aid the living:
“By taking care of their dead, the living Japanese are entitled, in return, to the protection and helpful intervention of their empowered predecessors.” (Remy. “Saving the Dead” Sunstone November 2006)
Again there will be Mormons with a proclivity for tying back to Adam everything that was “restored” by Joseph Smith. Such will assert that these Japanese post-funerary rituals are the inheritance of a cultural transmission through contact with a remnant of one of the Lost Ten Tribes of Israel. I believe this kind of theorization involves the logical fallacy of “presentism,” that is enforcing on the past patterns of thought or behavior common in the present.
It is much more likely that a concern for the dead and/or with the dead is rooted in human nature. Nevertheless, the reciprocal relationship between the living and the dead envisioned by these three distinct cultures involves a remarkable sophistication of thought. We are not witnessing in these cultural practices a simple fear of death which usually produces an aversion for the dead as with the Navajo chindi and its threat of “ghost sickness.” We are seeing something richer and more complex.
John Remy expresses the belief that this subject is a ripe one for students of Mormon Studies. I agree and appreciate John’s opening the subject up for discussion.
I am not disinterested in the debate over whether such similarity of custom is the product of cultural contact or of the wellspring of the human unconscious. I am simply more interested in what such customs mean for us as Mormons: psychologically, socially and culturally.
* My apologies to Stephen for the huge image that shoves his post off the edge of the earth. I just couldn’t bear to shrink Blake’s amazing work any further.
** My thanks to Mark Carter for his contribution to this article in providing me with the two quotes concerning guardian angels.










January 12th, 2007 at 11:10 am
You’re forgiven, Scot. Blake should always be shown in his full glory.
I find the idea of our ancestors being our guardian angels as being at once comforting and annoying. There are certainly some of my relatives who have passed on that I would like to think take an interest in my life (my grandmother, for example, who cultivated my mind during my teenage years). But at the same time, the idea that they have significant access to my life makes me feel claustrophobic. When I was younger this idea probably stopped me from performing my favorite vices quite so frequently, however nowadays, I’m much more interested in what I think of my actions than what a possible ancestor might.
January 13th, 2007 at 1:55 am
Scot and Stephen, I love and believe in the notion of ancestral guardians (call them angels if you want).
I would like to share with you my own simple, direct experience of this. In early January 1964 I fell into a deep, almost suicidal depression as I approached my doctoral dissertation defense. The depression was quite precise in its duration, lasting almost exactly four and a half months. I snapped out of it as suddenly as I fell into it at the death of my father and just before I learned of his passing. For years I puzzled over that synchronicity. Only recently (summer 2004) did I discover that my dad, just after he left his body, noticed me in great distress and decided to stick around to protect me. That suddenly made complete sense to me. My dad’s spiritual evolution since his death has been an ongoing and powerful influence on me. However you want to rationalize it, it is an experiential comfort. Nor is his the only guardianship that has come into my life post that awful, life-changing depression.
In our Mormon culture we have a rich tradition of these kinds of other-worldly relationships. Unfortunately, our LDS society seems to have a difficult time accepting this cultural tradition and many of our people live their lives “in quiet desperation”, unnecessarily feeling alone.
January 17th, 2007 at 8:01 pm
I am interested in anecdotes that illustrate the psychological/emotional/spiritual impact that the belief in guardian spirits has on one personally and on the greater community to which one belongs and from which this belief was acquired.
My ex-wife recently passed away and my daughter dreamt of her. She dreamed she saw her in a room full of people and felt compelled to approach her and speak to her. She knew she was dreaming but something in her told her that this would be the only way she could say what she needed to say and that now would be her only opportunity. She asked her mother how she was. (Her mother had wrecked her health with years of prescription drug abuse and had died from resulting physical complications.) Her mother said that she was fine. She said that things were difficult for her there, but that everything would be fine. My daughter had been very angry with her mother and had kept her at arms length during the last years of her life. The guilt she felt at her passing was crushing. My daughter told her mother she was sorry. Her mother said, “I know.”
My daughter asked if I thought the dream was a supernatural manifestation through the veil or just the product of her subconscious mind. I asked her what the dream had done for her. She said it had given her peace. I told her I wasn’t qualified to answer her question, but I asked her, since the dream had brought her peace, if she felt the dream’s etiology really mattered. She remained quiet, so I am unable to pass on any further thoughts she might have had on the subject.
This story doesn’t really illustrate the entrance of a guardian spirit into the world of the living, but it does illustrate a belief in the possibility that our departed dead see us and know us to some extent. On a personal level, this belief seems to have brought some peace to my daughter and a consequent cessation of guilt. I am left to wonder how such a belief impacts us as a community. Does it tie us together in some way? Does it affect our patterns of behavior? Does it express some social value? Or is such a belief merely of personal import?
January 17th, 2007 at 8:15 pm
Scott,
Your daughter might find even more meaning and comfort from her dream by exploring Joseph Dillard’s unique technique for interviewing dreams called “Dream Yoga” or “Deep Listening”. See .
January 18th, 2007 at 12:04 am
While I am encouraged by the author’s acknowledgement of two explanations for the origin of the japanese cultural tradition regarding the spirits of their dead ancestors, I am disappointed in his decision to hold the effects of the similar tradition within the mormon culture as the paramount issue. In other words, I am disappointed that he is choosing to favor one little patch of the human quilt rather than enjoy, analyze and interpret the beauty, similarities and importance of the entire quilt and the interelationships that weave throughout all the squares of the patchwork of humanity. When givien an opportunity to be a part of the world community, why does main stream mormon culture choose to focus inwardly? Has anyone read the writings of Carl Jung regarding the collective unconscious, and the origins of similar threads of beliefs that run within all the cultural traditions of humanity?
January 18th, 2007 at 1:37 pm
Jo,
I think you might have John’s intentions wrong. It seems to me that in comparing and contrasting Japanese and Mormon post-funerary ritual, he is not trying to “focus inwardly.” His article seems to break down our Mormon sense of our own uniqueness and directs our attention to similar practices within other cultures that may spring from a universal human need lying deep within the collective unconscious. To me, John seems to be engaging in a form of comparative religious study that Jung would find laudable.
Maybe I have misunderstood your post. I do that from time to time. I am glad you read the article, though and I am interested in any further thoughts you might have on the subject.
January 22nd, 2007 at 12:28 am
Jo, you raise a good point. I have to point out, however, that my research was less influenced by a Mormon cultural tendency “to focus inwardly” than by a postmodern backlash against universal explanations for social phenomenon. I’m a primarily a sociologist and a historian of religions, and I count among my stronger influences ritual theorists like Clifford Geertz and Jonathan Z. Smith. They’re pretty suspicious of grand, unifying theories and would not look favorably on Jung. In fact, I picked this topic because the Protestant world on the whole does not practice ritualized ancestral veneration. It seemed a culturally specific practice rather than a universal one. So my research aim was pretty modest–I just wanted see what interesting observations could be made when they were set side by side as opposed to seeing each separately.
Scot, thanks for doing a wonderful riff off of the original article. I’ve been looking at my Catholic neighbors’ rites (esp. during the Dia de los Muertos) and wondering what additional research I could do. I found this post very inspiring.