We entered into a house of stone, set upon a hill, bearing a holy cross. We gave our names at the desk and were ushered into a preparatory room, where we received instruction and were ministered to by attendants according to their stewardships.
From this first room, we progressed to a second. There we were ritually cleansed and robed in appointed raiment. Our feet were shod, and our heads were covered, robes placed over us, and we were prepared to pass through to a higher room.
This was a room unlike the others. Set apart, and consecrated from the activities and concerns of the world, sanctified in its purpose. Only those who had been washed, clothed, and set apart entered with us.
It was white. A brilliant light shone down on an altar in the form of a cross. The mother was placed on it. Those commissioned now joined together in purpose and will and holy order.
Here, I witnessed the veil part—that is to say, the flesh. The high priest stretched forth the scalpel and opened the way. Her side was pierced, and forthwith came there out blood and water. Pulled apart with retractors, the veil was rent twain from top to bottom, and a spirit child was brought through the veil into the world.
Exercising the priesthood power of creation and embodiment, the mother, upon the cross, bleeding from wounds in her wrists and her side, offered her body as a living sacrifice that a child might live. I stood as witness, beholding the great and dreadful day of the Lord: the work and the glory to bring to pass the mortal life of man.
A liturgical reflection on the cesarean birth of my son.
John Newton is a Utah-
based filmmaker, passionate
about exploring LDS identity
and theology in storytelling.
