The attending angel sounded three short blasts on the shofar, announcing the arrival of a new soul to heaven.
“Not another one,” I complained half-heartedly.
“Just do your job and quit bellyaching,” the attending angel reprimanded me before mechanically starting the drill. “Chad, having lived a long and fruitful life for all his years, now desires to enter heaven.”
“Present him for the test,” I instructed. “Please state your full name.”
“Chad Patrick Weaver, Jr.”
“And where were you born?”
“Boston, Massachusetts.”
“What day?”
“August 28, 1785.”
“Do you believe in the power of Christ unto salvation in the eternities heretoforafter?”
“Well, I was baptized as an infant, and I’ve read a little of the Bible, but I never really went to church or anything like that if that’s what you mean.”
“Then take a number from that large red thingy and exit through the white door. The one on the left,” I snapped, and Chad immediately followed my instructions.
Three more quick blasts announced another arrival.
“How many more are we going to have today?” I muttered.
“Not too many,” the attending angel reassured me before continuing, “Karen, having lived a long and fruitful life for all her years, now desires to enter heaven.”
“Present her for the test,” I continued the script verbatim before adding casually, “Please state your full name.”
“Karen Abigail Cooper.”
“And where were you born?”
“Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania.”
“What day?”
“November 11, 1792.”
“Do you believe in the power of Christ unto salvation in the eternities heretoforafter?” I asked again.
“Absolutely, I have been a devoted disciple of Christ all my days. I have always said my daily prayers, attended church every Sunday—even when we were out of town on vacation—and read the Bible many times over,” she insisted. “I’ve never even dressed immodestly like all the other women do, scandalously showing their shoulders in public.”
“But have you received your sacred endowment by power from on high?” I inquired.
“What do you mean, ‘endowment’?” she asked. “What’s an endowment?”
“It’s the sacred ceremony you perform in the temple,” I explained. “It teaches you all the secret handshakes, passwords, signs, and tokens necessary to enter back into the presence of God.”
“Temple? Signs? Tokens?” Karen complained almost offended. “What are you even talking about? I’ve been a good Christian my whole life, but I’ve never heard about any of this stuff. Nobody ever told me I needed secret handshakes to get into heaven. Where is that in the Bible?”
“Well, it’s not exactly in the Bible,” I admitted. “It’s kind of a new Restoration thing that we are just starting to roll out. It was only recently revealed to the brave new latter-day prophet, Joseph Smith, but it’s all still very much a work in progress, just kind of a prototype at the moment really. It is absolutely required, however, to get into heaven. If you haven’t been endowed, then you just need to take a number and exit through the white door on the left.”
Karen took a step forward before pausing to ask, “Wait. Why do I need to go in there?”
“I’m so sorry, but since you have not been endowed,” I explained, “you need to wait in the Spirit World until someone performs your temple ordinances by proxy. So, if you will just kindly exit through the assigned door, like I already said, the missionaries on the other side will explain everything. Don’t forget. You are in the Spirit World now, and the Lord God Almighty, the Creator of Heaven and Earth, runs a pretty tight ship around here, so don’t start asking a bunch of stupid questions.”
Another three blasts. Another soul.
“James, having lived a long and fruitful life for all his years, blah, blah, blah,” the attending angel droned on repetitively, more or less on autopilot this late in the day.
“Present him for the test.” I checked my paperwork before continuing the routine. “Please state your full name.”
“General James Adams.”
“And where were you born?”
“Simsbury, Connecticut.”
“What day?”
“January 24, 1783.”
“Do you believe in the power of Christ unto salvation in the eternities hertoforafter,” I asked yet another time.
“Of course, I do. There is no other name under heaven by which we may be saved. The Bible makes that abundantly clear.”
“But have you received your sacred endowment by power from on high?” I inquired.
“I certainly have,” he responded decisively.
“You have?” I stammered in disbelief. “Are you sure?”
“Absolutely sure.” He certainly sounded convincing.
“Do you remember all the secret handshakes, passwords, signs, and tokens?” I grilled him.
“All of them,” he assured me. “I was endowed by the Prophet Joseph Smith himself on May 4th, 1842, in the upper room of the Red Brick Store in Nauvoo. How could I ever forget such an experience?”
I staggered at the magnitude of this moment. After all, legions of us angels have been endlessly repeating this exact same ritual at tens of thousands of veils from one end of the Spirit World to the other, but it has been almost two millennia since a soul returning to heaven has received the endowment. And now suddenly this nobody James guy showed up claiming to know all the secret handshakes and passwords. Jumping Jehoshaphat! This is one of the most glorious events since the beginning of time! Right up there with the Fall of Adam, God speaking to Moses on Mount Sinai, and the First Vision. The Gates of Heaven were finally going to open once again. Holy horsefeathers! Good thing I didn’t call in sick this morning. What if I had missed this miraculous event?
But what was I supposed to do now? Surely something as momentous as this needed to be commemorated with something truly spectacular: rays of light, pillars of glory, heavenly choirs of angels. Maybe even chariots of fire. God has always excelled at pyrotechnics and special effects, but this kind of stuff was all way above my pay grade. I needed to contact my shift coordinator right away. Surely, I wasn’t supposed to just finish the ordinance, shake James’s hand, and welcome him to heaven like this was all just another ordinary day. We were witnessing the first fruits of the Great Restoration. Obviously, this deserved something special to mark the occasion.
“James,” I whispered. “This is a bit of an odd request, but I need to clarify a few very minor technical details with my supervisor before I can complete your ordinance. Don’t worry. It happens all the time.”
I immediately called out to Brother Bendavid, practically yelling, although you really aren’t supposed to yell in heaven. Even just loud talking is generally forbidden, although it isn’t quite as bad as loud laughter. “You are not going to believe this, but I’ve got a soul who claims to be fully endowed, and I think he knows all the handshakes and everything.”
“What?” Brother Bendavid replied, just beginning to understand the magnitude of the moment. “Are you sure? Have you asked him all the questions? Did he really know all the answers? Do we even know if the Pearly Gates still work? I mean it’s been ages since we’ve opened them, and I heard Peter double-bolted them shut just the other day because a pack of Masonic hooligans were trying to steal the authorized signs and tokens again.”
“Well, I haven’t finished testing him yet,” I admitted. “But he claims that Joseph Smith himself personally performed his endowment. You don’t think he could have bought his signs and tokens, do you?”
“Who would he have bought them from?” Brother Bendavid asked. “The endowment has been lost for millennia.”
“I don’t know,” I admitted. “Maybe some stray Master Mason or a wandering Protestant Preacher. You know we can’t trust them, mistaking the Reformation for the Restoration as they have.”
“The Masons only have corrupted forms of the handshakes, and the Protestants don’t have any handshakes at all,” Brother Bendavid reminded me. “Some secondhand Masonry may fool a few mortals down on earth, but it’s never going to pass muster up here in heaven.”
“So, what do I do now?” I asked.
“Quit worrying and just go finish the ordinance.” Brother Bendavid dismissed me with a wave of the hand. “You’ve been wasting too much time as it is.”
“But don’t you think that we should do something special to commemorate this?” I was starting to get agitated that no one was understanding the importance of what was going on. “Like a celebration or pageant of some kind? At least a heavenly choir. Or, I was even thinking maybe one or two of those real cool blazing chariots of fire that God saves just for special occasions like this. Even Jesus’s birth got shepherds and wisemen, and Elohim explicitly commanded everyone to keep that one on the real down low. Heck, even minor prophets occasionally get birthday parties and such. Don’t you think God would be disappointed if we let James into heaven just like that? Certainly, this deserves more than just a handshake.”
“I hadn’t even thought of that,” Brother Bendavid was stumped. After all, us veil workers had never been instructed about how to plan spectacular celebrations of this magnitude. “Honestly, maybe we need to just go straight to the top and contact President Aminadab himself,” he finally suggested.
“The Temple President? Are you sure?” I asked Brother Bendavid nervously. “You know how he hates to be interrupted. He’s so busy with daily devotionals, new trainings, planning councils, executive committees, and personal consultations. Not to mention all the paperwork. Are you sure that there is no other way?”
“There is no other way,” Brother Bendavid declared emphatically.
“President Aminadab,” Brother Bendavid inquired, knocking gently on his office door. “Sorry to bother you in your office, but there is a real emergency at the veil.”
“Emergency, schmergency,” the President muttered. “How many times do I have to tell you attending angels that there are no emergencies in heaven. Here in eternity, we have infinite time to handle every situation peacefully with calmness and all proper decorum. I’m sure this is something that my counselor President Kumenonhi could have easily handled all by himself. Remember that he was one of the Stripling Warriors.”
“It’s just . . . just . . .just,” Brother Bendavid struggled to find the right words.
“Oh, just spit it out will you!” the President demanded impatiently, seemingly forgetting his own advice.
“Brother Levi has an endowed soul at the veil. He knows all the secret handshakes and everything, and we don’t know what to do,” Brother Bendavid finally admitted.
“This really is an emergency. Of course, we knew this would happen eventually, but we didn’t think it was going to happen so soon.” With no time to spare, the President immediately picked up his red phone, a direct line to the Senior Presiding Area General Authority Seventy of the entire Midwest North America region. If anyone would know what to do, it was Elder Maccabees.
“Don’t tell me. It has already happened, hasn’t it?” the Elder demanded, knowing instantly by the spirit of discernment what was going on.
“What happened?” the President asked confusedly, taken aback by the Elder’s quick response.
“You’ve got an endowed soul at the veil, don’t you?” the Elder discerned. “I knew this would happen, but I thought that we still had a couple more years.”
“A couple more years?” the President exclaimed. “You mean that you already knew it could be so close, and you didn’t warn me? Don’t you think us temple presidents should be kept in the loop? It doesn’t look good when we are caught unprepared like this.”
“We just need to act quickly,” the Elder directed. “Have your wife prepare a celebration immediately. The Quorum of Distinguished Presiding Elders have already told me that their presiding authorities have told them that the top-tier dignitaries—people like Adam, Moses, Peter, John the Beloved, Nephi, Moroni, or any of the other big guns—would not be made available for such an occasion, but maybe I can round up a minor prophet like Abinadi or a B-list apostle like Andrew or Philip. Meanwhile, get down to the veil right away, and make sure that someone official is there to greet this newly endowed soul.”
The President hurried over to Matron Aminadab’s office, blurting out, “Honey, I’m sorry to interrupt you, but we have a real code-red emergency. The first endowed spirit of this new dispensation just presented himself at the veil, so I need you to quickly organize some kind of spectacular celebration for him. We can’t look like we don’t know what we are doing. This is the Celestial Kingdom for heaven’s sake.”
The Matron sat there dumbfounded for a moment before springing into action and calling the stake Relief Society president who said that she could probably throw together an impromptu choir and maybe even a marching band. After all, there really isn’t much to do in heaven except missionary work and practicing your talents, so every stake had a standing phalanx of well-trained musicians ready to perform at the drop of a hat. She added that the stake had streamers and balloons, even a fog machine, left over from the last stake daddy-daughter dance, and that they also had several very professional Jewish folk dancers and a few Nephite fancy dancers. There were even some pretty good magicians, and everyone likes magic. Maybe it wasn’t quite perfect, but it would have to do in a pinch.
Meanwhile, back at the veil, I was doing my best to officiate James’s ordinance, while simultaneously trying to stall as long as I could. I tried to make some small talk about his family and how he was a carpenter back on earth just like Jesus and regular old stuff like that, even though this wasn’t exactly protocol. I could only stall so long, however, before having to finish the ordinance, after which I was the first temple worker in nearly two thousand years to finally declare, “Congratulations. You have passed the test. You may now enter the Celestial Kingdom.”
Well, that was it. I had actually done it. I had officiated the first successful veil ordinance in almost two thousand years. The only question left was whether I had delayed long enough for Brother Bendavid to throw together a proper celebration. Then suddenly, as if on cue, I turned around to see none other than Brother Bendavid standing next to the Temple President himself, eager to greet our new arrival. But just as they reached out their hands to welcome James, he fell awkwardly at their feet, trembling as he embraced their legs.
“My Lord and Savior,” James proclaimed with tears running down his face.
“Ah, no. Not quite, actually,” the President meekly confessed. “I’m just President Aminadab, the temple president, and this is Brother Bendavid. He is one of our very best shift coordinators.”
“Then where are Heavenly Father and Jesus,” James demanded quite disappointed. “I thought that when I passed through the veil I would enter into the presence of God.”
The President, Brother Bendavid, and I all looked at each other rather sheepishly before the President finally confessed, “Actually, it is a little more complicated than that. The whole veil ordinance is only symbolic even on this side of the veil. It is officiated by veil workers who serve as proxies for Heavenly Father, who you will, of course, certainly get to meet eventually, but this is just the first symbolic step in a rather long, and perhaps some would say somewhat convoluted, maybe even a little unnecessarily baroque, process. We will explain everything to you by and by, but please be patient.”
“You’ve got to be kidding, right?” James lamented. “No one ever told me that going through the veil was just a symbolic first step. Where was that in Sunday School? How long is this whole symbolic process going to take before I finally get to meet God face to face? I mean I already died, and that was traumatic enough, and now I’ve passed through this whole ordinance at the veil which really does require very good memorization skills. What more do I need to do to prove my worthiness?”
“Oh, don’t worry. You have proved your worthiness all right, but what’s the hurry?” President Aminadab advised James. “You are in heaven now, and that’s all that matters. Take some time to enjoy the here and now. Live in the present. Just abide. That’s some very good practical advice for how to get along up here. It is just common sense that God can’t personally greet every soul on their first day. There are lots of layers of bureaucracy even in heaven and actually quite a lot of paperwork. More than you would think, so don’t be disappointed. Certainly, not on this magnificent day which will go down as one of the most spectacular days in the whole history of the earth. You are the first endowed human to successfully return to the Celestial Kingdom since the collapse of the Nephite civilization. I apologize that we aren’t quite as prepared as we had hoped to be, but we really didn’t get much advance notice.”
At precisely that admittedly very awkward moment, the Matron burst into the Celestial Room followed by a magnificent choir singing a stirring rendition of “The Spirit of God.” The choir was followed by an admittedly less than robust marching band and dozens of gayly dressed folk dancers twirling and gyrating wildly. There were even a handful of amateur magicians in the background, but no one could really see them clearly at first with all the fog and balloons. “Let’s give a hearty heavenly welcome to James,” the Matron loudly proclaimed.
“What a surprise!” James exclaimed. “Is this whole celebration all just for me?” And he started to cry again, freely weeping tears of great joy.
But just then the President yelled as loud as I have ever heard a church authority yell, “Wait just a minute. What in the heck do you think you are doing, Matron? This is a total clusterfetch! Don’t you know that the official authorized Operating Procedures of the Holy Temple explicitly forbid all instruments except angelic trumpets, and especially saxophones and trombones, in the Celestial Room, and here you have a full-on horn section. Playing jazz, no less. Not to mention all this colored clothing and dancing. You should know that there are strict rules about these things. And who are all those people dressed in black suits with top hats? Are you kidding me? This is all absolutely, utterly inappropriate. You can keep the choir but get rid of the band and all this other ridiculous nonsense.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry.” The Matron cried her own tears of genuine remorse. “I don’t know what I was thinking. You said to organize a spectacular celebration, and I didn’t really have enough time to get everything perfect. I’ve never done anything like this before.”
“Well, the choir itself is perfect, honey,” the President consoled the Matron. “We are all just doing our best under rather stressful circumstances.”
Then, turning to James he apologized, “I really am sorry. Usually, heaven is not quite this chaotic. You just caught us a little off guard.”
Just as the choir finished its rousing hymn, almost as if on cue again, it parted down the middle as two resplendent beings with matching long flowing white hair and gorgeous full beards dressed in brilliant white robes approached James with outstretched arms to greet him in a warm embrace. A solemn hush spread over the entire room, and tears flowed freely from one end of the Celestial Room to the other.
Once again, James fell to his knees sobbing and proclaiming exuberantly, “Surely, this must be Heavenly Father and His Only Begotten Son, the Savior of the World, even Jesus the Christ. I always knew that you would be here to greet me.”
“Oh, come on now. Don’t grovel. Save your tears for the Big Guy Himself,” the exceptionally tall man gently chided with a soft chuckle. “I’m just Elder Maccabees, the Senior Presiding General Authority Area Seventy for the North America Midwest States region. I’m sorry that I wasn’t here to greet you when you first arrived, but I did come as quickly as I could. Welcome to the highest realm of the Celestial Kingdom. I assume that President Aminadab has already informed you that you are the first successfully endowed Latter-day Saint to be exalted in this the Last Dispensation of the Fulness of Times. When the annals of heaven are eventually engraved on eternal gold plates, in the pure Adamic tongue, of course, certainly your story will commence one of the greatest chapters in the entire Plan of Salvation.”
“Who is the other guy then?” James asked meekly. “Is he Jesus?”
“Oh, sorry. I forgot that you are new here. This is Timothy, the ancient Nephite disciple who was personally chosen and ordained by the resurrected Lord Himself. You are truly one of Saturday’s Warriors, the best and the brightest of the last days. I’ve never even heard of Timothy attending someone’s veil ordinance before. I believe Timothy now has something very, very special to say.”
“Yea, verily, I say unto you James, beloved son of God, valiant child of the covenant, and devoted disciple of Christ, I welcome you into these heavenly realms of eternal glory on this special day which will go down in history, the 11th of August in the Year of Our Lord 1843,” Timothy began. “I solemnly declare unto you that it shall come to pass in the due time of the Lord that you and all your posterity shall be granted divine rest in the presence of God unto the eternities heretoforafter. I give unto you my highest and holiest official authorized apostolic blessing and seal it upon your head with the Holy Spirit of Promise. Well done, thou good and faithful servant, but please be patient. You and all your righteous posterity will eventually be admitted back into God’s presence, but it will take just a little more time. Oh, and we are going to need you to fill out some paperwork first, too.”
“Well, do I at least get my own planet now?” James asked hopefully, trying not to look too disappointed.
Robert Bennett is a professor
at Montana State University.
His newsletter focuses on
criticism of Mormon short fiction.
The art accompanying this story is by Agnes Giberne,
from her 1898 book From The Story of the Sun, Moon, and Stars.
