Of Life and the Church of Christ

This past Sunday I was reminded, as I am often reminded, of one of the distinguishing features of the church of Jesus Christ:  it is alive.  That characteristic powerfully impressed me from my first attendance at a meeting of the church, when I was thirteen.  No more than 100 members, gathered in the rented second floor of a Grange Hall in a western New York village, hymns sung accompanied by a volunteer pianist on a beat up honky-tonk piano, sermons provided from the rank and file of the membership, Sunday School taught in a kitchen and class members sitting on a few folding chairs arranged around the cooking stove—all was alive and vibrant.  That same spiritual life was present when as a missionary in Spain we met with fewer than a dozen people in a swept-out garage.  And it was present when I joined thousands in a meeting at the Tabernacle in Salt Lake City for the church’s annual June youth conference.  I have found it wherever I have gathered with the members of Christ’s church. 

In each and every case, the building contributed more or less to comfort but had little to do with the sense of the church being alive.  In my childhood I had been a frequent attendee at the meetings of Protestant churches in pleasant and neat but not ostentatious surroundings, and I have since visited some of the most magnificent cathedrals of the world.  But I sensed something palpably different and alive, noticeable even to a young teenager, when I first set foot in Christ’s church, and each time since. 

I conclude that the life comes from Jesus Christ, through the presence of the Holy Spirit, flowing through those gathered in His name at His call.  It is as the Savior promised to His saints, “For where two or three are gathered together in my name, there am I in the midst of them.” (Matthew 18:20)  The Savior explained to the Sadducees anciently, who had the form of worship without its life, “God is not the God of the dead, but of the living.” (Matthew 22:32)  The things I had been taught from the scriptures, revered as dead relics in an old museum in the other churches I had known, came to life in the church of Christ.

Unable to articulate precisely what he was seeking—other than the truth—the fourteen-year old Joseph Smith learned from God Himself in 1820 what was missing in the churches of his day, what held Joseph back from joining with any of them even after persistent earnest inquiries.  Said the Lord to Joseph, in answer to his simple prayer, “they teach for doctrines the commandments of men, having a form of godliness, but they deny the power thereof.” (Joseph Smith History, verse 19)

The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, just as the church of Christ of the saints in ancient days, is full of life, it is all about life and the overcoming of death.  Its victory over death is not just a promise for the future, beyond this world of mortality.  It brings life from the eternal worlds and extends it among men and women today, in this world where temporary things would otherwise seem to prevail. 

The Church reveres the prophets and apostles of antiquity and treasures their testimony, but it is led—as Christ’s living church always has been—by living apostles and prophets who receive direct revelation pertinent to conditions and needs in our day.  Along with the prophets come scriptures, as we write down the inspired words of the apostles and prophets.  With roots firmly planted in the ancient scriptures of the Holy Bible and The Book of Mormon, the tree of revelation has not withered or died but continues growing in Christ’s modern church, providing divine guidance to a world that never needed it more.

There are no crucifixes to be found in the modern church of Christ, not because the Church does not recognize the infinite atonement of the Savior, but because that atonement was fulfilled by the resurrection, the rising of the living Christ from the tomb, conquering mortality.  It is toward the living Christ that the saints of God focus their attention, not to the instrument of His torture and very real but very temporary death.

All of the ordinances and sacraments of Christ’s church are founded on Christ’s promise, “I am come that they might have life, and that they might have it more abundantly.” (Matthew 10:10)  In baptism, the new Christian rises up out of the water to newness of life, and the gift of the Holy Ghost is bestowed by the laying on of hands to bring about a spiritual rebirth, in both cases death overcome.   The sacrament of the Lord’s Supper, celebrated each Sunday in the church, points to Christ’s defeat of sin and death, and His victory over mortality.  Christ emphasized this when as the risen Messiah He presented the sacramental bread to the ancient Americans with the commandment to partake of the bread, “in remembrance of my body, which I have shown unto you” (3 Nephi 18:7), his very real and immortal, resurrected body as much as His body that was torn and killed on the cross. 

The highest ordinance that God offers to His children is marriage for time and eternity, whereby man and woman are united in a family to last forever, without end.  In those families, children are welcome and encouraged and seen as the glory of their parents. Genealogical records are sought out and preserved, as the promise of life and family connections extends forever back and continues forever onward.  No one is to be forgotten, because the promise of eternal life extends to all. 

Death is very real, but in the church of Jesus Christ death is no mystery, through Christ it has lost its sting.   After all, mortality is the exception in a universe where the eternity of life prevails. 

Of Business Losses and Government Help

In recent days JPMorgan Chase bank announced that it suffered $2 billion in trading losses, and Washington is all a-twitter.  You would think that a government that runs deficits of one and a half trillion dollars would hardly notice any event of $2 billion, but the chattering classes who think that they should have some role in running everything are all chattering about it and how it clearly demonstrates the need for more regulation, i.e. more need for them to be involved in running private businesses.

Mind you, JPMC’s $2 billion loss is a lot of money to you and me, but this does not particularly affect you and me.  JPMC suffered the loss, and given the size of the bank and its earnings (it usually makes somewhere in excess of $4 billion each quarter) it will little affect its bottom line.  JPMC is not asking anyone else to cover its losses, other than its own shareholders, and they will not feel it much if the bank continues to be as well run as it has been.

Ah, but perhaps you are thinking that JPMC got some of that TARP money so involved in the financial panic.  That is true, JPMC was one of the banks whose arms were twisted hard by Treasury Secretary Paulson to take a forced government investment.  Those TARP investments spooked regular, private sector investors, who immediately ran for the sidelines, and the financial crisis was on, propelled (as most are) by bad government efforts to “fix” things.  JPMC did not want the money or need the money and in a few months paid it all back—with substantial interest—as quickly as Congress and the regulators would allow them to.  It reminds me of the elderly gentlemen who finally yielded to family cajoling to take a ride in a stunt plane.  Afterward he thanked the pilot for the two rides, his first and his last.  TARP was such a bad deal for those who received the investments (except for the couple of financial firms that might really have wanted it), that I do not think that any would want a second ride, perhaps not even again at gunpoint.

The recent loss by JPMC, in any event, was one well covered by the bank’s earnings in other of its many lines of business.  Curiously, I do not hear the chattering classes get exercised when each quarter Fannie Mae or Freddie Mac announces several more billions of dollars of losses, losses that they do ask for the Treasury Department to make whole.  Maybe that is because the regulators already run Fannie and Freddie.  Actually, there was a little bit of noise in the past few days when Fannie Mae announced that it had actually turned a profit for the last quarter, the first time in years.

One thing that disturbs me in all of the Washington humbuzzah over JPMC’s trading loss is the implicit notion that there is something wrong about a business losing money on an investment, something wrong enough to call forth a government role.  It seems to me that losses are just as much a sign of a normal market as gains are, that healthy markets have a good share of both.  Nobody seemed to lose money during the housing bubble, no matter what they did, but that was hardly a sign of a healthy market place.

What markets do when they are allowed to is reward good business decisions and punish bad ones, with gains and losses providing some of the most effective means of helping businessmen and their investors understand truly which is which.  JPMC made some bad business decisions and lost money, and the counterparties to those trades made good ones and earned money.  What role can government play in all of that other than to mess it up?

To get government involved in this process rests upon at least two preposterous notions.  First, it suggests that it is somehow the role of government to make sure that businesses do not lose money, otherwise, why all the fuss?  That, of course, was the Soviet business model that did so much to create modern Russia.  Second, and following on the first mistaken notion, it supposes that government officials will know better how to avoid business losses.  Anyone really believe that?  Share with me your examples, and I will pass them on to the Federal budget planners.

Of American Prosperity and Failing Villages

The Internet has been a boon for small businesses.  No longer is the market of the small business limited to the local community.  The Internet—together with an efficient system for making payments— allows customers to find the business and do business from near and far.
 
I am thinking at the moment of the used and rare book trade, although I have frequented other lines of small businesses via the Internet, including finding hard-to-get plumbing parts.  I love to walk into a book store, especially a used book store, and more often than not I leave with a new acquisition or two in hand.  I recall not very long ago buying a set of the debates surrounding the ratification of the Constitution.  As the bookseller rang up my purchase he asked whether I had found what I was looking for.  I told him no, that I had found what I was not looking for.  That is the way it usually is for me and a book store, the surprise and wonder of it, the discovery of things of which I had not before been aware or did not know were available to me.

It is a problem that there are not that many small bookshops around, maybe at most one in a town, two or three in a city.  I understand that it is a tough business.  You have to be willing to let musty old volumes sit around on your shelves for a long time, and those books are costing money while they sit there.

The Internet helps solve that.  You can search for a title or an author and find perhaps several sources of the book, long out of print, in bookshops scattered around the country, in towns and villages where you may have never been and would be unlikely to visit.

I have remarked how much I loved a couple of readers we used in grade school.  I could not even remember the names of the books or their authors, but I cherished them for the enthusiasm that they taught me for economic growth and development in America.  I learned a lot more than reading from those books.  I learned that America was a growing and developing country, always becoming more, richer, grander, harnessing the optimism of its people who came from many places but found in America a place where there was joy in the hard work of the present because you owned the results of what you did and what you did was build a more prosperous future that you passed on to your children and their children, who built on it in their turn.

Through the Internet I discovered that the books were written by Mabel O’Donnell, entitled Singing Wheels and Engine Whistles.  They told of the fictitious town of Hastings Mills built in the early nineteenth century on an Illinois prairie, a town that grew to become the prosperous city of Hastings by the early twentieth century.

The town and characters were a literary fiction, but they captured the real spirit and efforts of what happened all over America at that time.  Elsewhere I have quoted a passage from the first book, Singing Wheels, in which the founder of the town, then numbering but a few dozen cabins occupied by hardworking people with dreams, shared with his son the dream of how the town would grow, transforming the surrounding prairie into prosperous farms and the town into the prosperous center that would serve them all.

In the second book, Engine Whistles, the grandson of that founder is chatting with a train engineer about what made the town into a thriving city of 12,000 inhabitants, and growing.  The engineer proudly tells the boy, Tom, that it was the railroad that put Hastings on the map, and the vision of the men—including his grandfather— who brought the railroad to Hastings.  At first Tom agrees, but on second thought Tom argues that there was more to it than that.

“A railroad doesn’t make a town,” he said with a thoughtful look in his blue eyes.  “The railroad didn’t make Hastings.  My grandfather did.”

“Come, now, lad,” boomed engineer Bill, a note of amused disagreement in his voice.

“Yes, he did, too!” insisted Tom, hurrying on and allowing no time for argument.  “He came west in a covered wagon when there wasn’t even one cabin in the valley of the Big Turtle.  He knew it was a good place for a town, and so he built a lumber mill.  Then he cut down trees and sawed lumber so that other people could build homes, too.  He’s the one who made the town!” (Mabel O’Donnell, Engine Whistles, p.37, 38)

As a child growing up in south Florida, I saw that story playing out around me, as each year new homes, businesses, churches, highways and much else were built.  Economic development was the way of life.  When I was a teenager my family moved to western New York, to a much older village, much like Hastings, built in the early nineteenth century by men of vision, a village that thrived into a bustling business, industrial and even cultural center of some 10,000 people. 

But I arrived in the village’s twilight.  It still numbered 10,000 people and still retained something of its old spirit, with several manufacturing and business establishments and even a college.  By the time I and my schoolmates left—and it seemed that most of us did leave—the college had folded up, as had all but one of the manufacturing firms and many of the businesses.  I understand that the biggest employer now is the local hospital system, a close second being the ugly sum of the various state and local government agencies.  People were very happy to get a new state prison built nearby.  The heavy taxation and regulations emanating from Albany made business too expensive and leached away the village’s future.  Just recently, driven by tax burden, the remaining inhabitants of the village voted to give up their village charter.

A different story, that one, but one that has its echoes in too many places.  I wonder whether that was the America that the Dutch, Germans, Italians, Irish and others who built the village had in mind for their descendants. 

I am very glad that I found Mabel O’Donnell’s books through the Internet and was able to buy them and read them again.  You will have to get your own copies, though, as I am passing mine on down to my grandchildren.