On Being A Reluctant Missionary - Like Jacob Hannah

I grew up in a small village in the Rocky Mountains some 165 miles north of Salt Lake City. I look back upon those first 19 years as the formative process for a child of pioneer stock, of a band of Mormon believers sent to our valley to found a community bonded by faith, hard work, trust in each other and a God who spoke from Heaven to individual souls who were anxiously engaged in the good causes of life.

I recall that by the time of my late-teens a sense of religious duty seemed irresistible as it prompted some sort of postponement of my growing sense of independence and what my future might look like in terms of education and vocation.

I grew up only partially active in the Church and that mostly for social reasons. I grew up relatively free from parental pressure to go to church and if I attended for reasons other than social and connected to my love life, it would have been a response to the unrelenting and guilt-making pressure from my beloved Grandmother. Grandma Ruger was the one who taught me the religious stuff like prayers but who could not seem to tolerate any form of disappointment in her expectations and wishes that we be good active Mormons.

When I entered the age of availability - 19 years - and aware of our ward's missionary-minded bishop, Glen Yost, I tried to stay low on his radar. But my attempt to avoid the bishop was only half-hearted in that the sense of pride in being thought of as mission-worthy did much to challenge any critical thought on my part about putting my life ahead of the Lord's need of me.

Bishop Yost easily cornered me one Tuesday or Wednesday night at MIA and I knew what he wanted. I was next in line among his harvesting of local recent high school graduates and urging them to fulfill a mission for the Church. Even as I was gathered in and cornered in his office I knew that I would probably agree to go.

My own assessment of how I might be a man worthy of a mission call was somewhat tempered by an inner awareness and admission that I was a social Mormon more than a testimony Mormon.

No one more than I was aware that I had not prayed according to the Moroni formula in chapter 10 of the Book of Mormon which was a constant teaching theme in Church, MIA and Seminary classes.

No one more than I was aware that I had been going through the duty motions to please family and peers more than a consequence of the inner-convicted faith of someone like Nephi in the Book of Mormon.

The only "spiritual" moving experiences seemed to come with my response to Mormon music - mostly the hymns that I liked the best. I've only recently come to realize that I have been brought "spiritually" to tears more by music than the spoken word, more by the tune and melody of a favorite hymn than any sermon or lesson.

That is still true today.

Back then no one more than I was aware that my kidding and joking and lack of seriousness that interjected itself into almost any religious discussion with my friends was closer to the real me than any sense of piety and future religious devotion.

But I listened to Bishop Yost make his pitch and almost without hesitation, perhaps as a habit of going along with whoever I wanted not to be disappointed in me, I told him I would think about going.

Within a week, having added a dose of serious do or don't to the issues of life, I experienced what seems like my first religious prompting.

I was moving irrigation pipe and thinking about whether or not I would go on a mission. At some point I forgot about the mechanics of moving pipe and got lost in my thoughts. A few minutes later I realized that I was pondering about what a mission would be like for me all the while a hymn, The Spirit of God Like a Fire is Burning, was playing over and over again in my head.

That then was the closest I had ever come to experience and believing that the Lord was bringing something to my personal attention ... in my memory that is the first time I was ever prompted by God.

Contacting Bishop Yost with the good news of my agreeing to go was the easiest next step. Of course then he went right for the jugular in terms of preparation and repentance.

I'd have to quit my secret smoking on the way to and from pipe moving and with my friends in the evening. It wasn't as secret as I thought and my mother confirmed that years later when we were joking about how I thought I was fooling people.

All this took place in the early summer of 1965. By August and my 19th birthday I'd received my Patriarchal Blessing and a call to the Spanish American Mission in Texas and New Mexico. I was disappointed for a while because I had requested and had my heart set on Peru. I guess Texas and Spanish was the best I could get.

I do not recall any further promptings until I entered the mission home in Salt Lake and the enormity (well to me it WAS enormous) of what I'd done and how I was locked in to a way of life for the next 2 1/2 years hit me.

I had no sense of "trying this one out" and having any right to change my mind and give it up. My mother, who was not active, had flat out told me that if I went I had to complete it and that she would not have me come home early. She was referring to being sent home from my mission for getting in trouble or serious sinfulness but it didn't matter. I was her oldest and if she agreed to have me go there was no way of ever wrecking her opinion of me by trying to the right thing and failing.

So into the mission home I went, experiencing the most intense and powerful moment of reluctance and change of mind I would have over the next 30 months. The mission home was full of the kinds of guys I had come to both envy and detest because they came from active families or because they came already testimonied-up and because they looked and acted so damned happy to be there.

I on the other hand did not feel that way.

Before I got out of the car my mother had hinted that I could still change my mind … and I was tempted. But then my grandmother was there and ready to literally bawl me out if I tried to change my mind. Coupled with the awareness that I did not want my mother to see me try and fail at anything, I outwardly avoided changing my mind.

I went into the mission home feeling more than ever that I had faked my way through things once too often.

All I had going for me was my new suit, my new missionary Bible with its center section full of interesting stuff and my new Book of Mormon. Both books had my name and title embossed on the front. Elder Arthur Ruger ... at least I felt like a dignified faker.

I was given an English copy of the missionary Six Discussions and told to start memorizing. Later I would be given the same thing in Spanish after I got to the Language Training Mission at BYU in Provo. Well, it was something other than the bible and Book of Mormon so I looked it over.

... and saw the things I would be teaching and testifying to non-members interested in the Church. Then I knew about the fear of exposure as a fraud and how I would seriously struggle saying any of that "I know" and "I testify” stuff in the discussions with strangers while maintaining a straight face.

I went after the formula testimony as instructed. Ask God if it's true and you will feel it. I didn't know what the hell that felt like and to my memory my bosom never even scorched, let alone burned.

Maybe my pipe-moving moment was my burning bosom ... but my bosom had not burned and my rubber boots leaked as I squished my way back and forth across the field in August humming The Spirit of God Like a Fire is Burning in my head.

I suppose I made that pipe-moving epiphany do for my burning bosom for a long time since there was no way I was going to back out of this predicament. But I'll tell you ... 30 months looked like an endless time frame and I felt something akin to having entrapped myself inextricably in  quicksand where I would only be able to tread water and hopefully keep my nose out of it.

A broken promise: Jacob, Rose and Turner's marriage plans

Jacob stared at the older woman, angry. Lines creased his forehead as he weighed his whether-to's. Finally, he stood and walked into the tent. When he emerged, Rose trailed along behind petulantly, her arm looking to be a permanent attachment to his hand.

"Siddown Rose and hear me out. I ain't comfortable with head-on talkin like this where I have to rein in my temper. Usually fer me, I only talk head-on when I'm bein challenged. But you got to know this thing I already know.  If what yer Ma explains is true, you got to know at least this one thing and I'm damned fer tellin ya and damned if I don't."
"Jacob, you don't have to -"
"Shut up, Rose! You tole yer Ma to shut it and now I'm a tellin you the same. Shut yer mouth and jes listen! Unnerstand?"

He was angry ...and afraid...and Rose saw both. She had to laugh.
"Please continue Jacob. You're quite interesting when you're angry."


Blushing, he saw Abigail squelch a giggle, felt his blush and blustered on without fanfare or preamble; just straight to the point.
"Rose, afore he left, Turner Cole tole me he'd marry you with no holdin back at all and made me promise never to tell anybody.
I ain't...til now."


"Then why didn't he say so?"
"Would'na been proper on his part. And how'd he know you would'na joint up with the Church just to egg im on?"


"He thought I would do something like that? Just to catch him?"
And before her own temper pushed out words of disgust, she caught her mother's silent rebuke.
You did do something like that when you got baptized anyway. Don't get righteous about it now.


Abigail was right and Rose could only stare into Jacob's eyes, not sensing the man's pain in discussing her affections concerning another man.


Jacob still had that same feeling in his gut.
Every damn time he thought about her anymore...
"Jacob Hannah, are you telling me Turner Cole went home with the idea he'd ask me to marry him when I came to Utah?"


Sighing, shaking his head and shrugging in a way only a big man does, Jacob looked into the fire.
"That's about the size of it. I think he meant he'd have no problem takin you to wife after you got baptized. He was willin to take the Lord at His word and if your sins was no more rememberd by the Lord, why should Turner Cole remember them?"


"Then why on earth did he get married?"
"Don't for sure know. Me'n Turner've always been close but not so close that he'd share his love life with me.
By the time we got to the age of interest, I spent more time with my Pa bein a woodsman and he stayed closer to the city and the religious stuff. Maybe he was commanded."


"But you both said there weren't arranged marriages in Zion."
"There ain't like that, but maybe he was commanded to start takin wives, but I doubt that too. Turner is still too young to start actin apostle-like."
"Meaning that he still might have marriage with me in mind - as a plural wife?
My God, Jacob!"


Abigail gestured, upset. "I certainly agree there Rose! Jacob, how could Turner or any good man be that casual about this?"


"Whaddaya mean casual? Far as I can see there wasn't nothin casual about thinkin about Rose and whether or not marryin her was somethin real in his heart.
Sharin it with me warn't casual. He never spected I'd ever tell you afore he could do somethin about it hisself.

And if he decided to do nothin, then I'm the only one he'd have to splain it to since you'd never a known. I'm the casual blabbermouth here."


"But Jacob," responded Abigail, “it sounds like he thought we would go dragging a handcart into Utah, ready to accept his proposal just because he wanted it that way. I mean, would Turner just walk up to us, maybe give a hug and tell my daughter,
'Welcome to Zion, Rose. By the way will you marry me?'
No courtship? No wondering if Rose cares in return, assuming he cares in the right way?"


"Hell, I don't know Sister! I ain't been involved with women and don't know how it's done, specially with plurals. I don't think I'll ever be commanded to take more'n one wife."
Oh? And why not, Jacob?", Rose wanted to know.
"Cause I'm not able to do it, maybe not even manage one wife. I don't have the temper to manage women in that way and everybody who knows me knows that too.


Old Brigham'd never be that blind as to call me to take more'n one woman."
"But Jacob, you have just as much right."
"Right?
Right hell!  No I don't.
I ain't the man of the spirit like Turner. If the Prophet tole Turner to get hisself a wife or two, Turner'd have the spirit enough to know it was right.

I ain't that way. If Brigham tole me that, I'd have to take it on faith cause no spirit would ever prompt my soul to know it was right.


My gut feelin would be to tell Brother Brigham right where he could go hang his hat. And since I ain't likely to be some Church big shot any time, I wouldn't have no obligedness to show a public example by acceptin the difficult callin like Heber Kimball did.


My only wife'd never have to pray to God about me stayin awake at night tryin to decide whether or not to refuse that commandment from the Prophet."

Jacob on the risks of marrying Rose

"Jacob Hannah, you're a hard man."

              "Why?

              Cause I'm bein honest about it?  Turner, I don't ever aim to be asked to take more'n one wife and I'd be riskin a hell of a lot to take Rose, no matter how prettified she gits and how clean she repents herself to."

              "Why do you say risk? You mean you'd have a hard time trusting her?"

              "That and more. Albert says she's been a whorin for the most part a two years and not once has ever showed signs of gittin with child."

              "Albert thinks his daughter is barren?"

              "Yeah, it looks that way. If I made someone like that my woman I'd have two strikes agin me."

              "An ex-harlot you couldn't fully trust and the danger of a childless union?"

              "You got it."

              "I'd do it ..."

              "You'd what?

              You'd take a chance on her?

              Turner that's crazy! She ain't your type."

              "Why not? Besides, what makes you think we won't be commanded to marry more than one?"

              "Hah! You, maybe. I won't do it."

              "Oh yes you would. You might not feel that way now but by the end of your mission, when the labor of preaching is so full that your testimony is three times what it is now, you'll change your ideas. You'll do what the Lord asks."

Jacob Hannah ground his teeth together and got to his feet. Glad he thinks so.... no idea what I'm goin to say.

"Remember Jacob, you weren't sent to argue with the Reverend. The Lord wants you to deliver His message and you know what that is. Go ahead, Elder. You'll do fine"

Jacob Hannah ground his teeth together and got to his feet. Glad he thinks so.... no idea what I'm goin to say.

Rose was disappointed. The majority of the listeners were disappointed.

Mister Calm and Quiet was not rising to speak, instead letting his partner, Mr. Nervous Eyes struggle to the front, a Bible and another book in his paws. She watched as he laid both books in front of him, looked out at the congregation and hesitated, not anxious to speak.

Why not?

Did not he come here for this very thing?

Assembling the few scattered ideas left in his head, Jacob still hesitated.

Declare the message Turner had said.

Answer the charges the Reverend had demanded.

Jacob swallowed hard; then charged, stumbling at the start.

"Uh, Ladies, and, er Gentlemen....

No! I can't call you that. That is, I, I gotta call you 'brothers and sisters'.

I hope yer not mindin that, but the Lord, er, Jesus taught that you an me’re all sons and daughters of God, the Heavenly Father."

What the hell am I sayin? I'm runnin out of words!

"...and where I come from we respect each other that way. My ... my companion, behind me ..."

Of course he's behind me! Dammit Hannah! Quite stutterin!

"My, uh, companion behind me's always spected me to call im 'Brother Cole'.

Ah, that is, I mean that was in Utah. Here in England he wants me to call im 'Elder Cole'. Of course when we was youngsters in the wilderness we only knew each other's folks as 'Brother this' or 'Sister that'.

Brother Cole is, well, I, er, hope you'll all come to think of us -- both of us as your brothers."

Lord! I gotta get on with the subject!!

The whole chapel seemed on the verge of an exploding restlessness. Rose felt as if her skin was crawling, so irritating was the Elder's fumbling. The speaker was obviously a humble man, but his fear and reluctance was almost palpable.

Why hadn't the other one spoken?

Come on, Jacob old boy! You can do this.

Keep goin!

Either yer a man about this or ya ain't. Ya quit now an you might never try public speakin agin!

And there ain't no damn way I'm lettin Turner go back to Utah or even to Franklin Richards and say Isaac Hannah's boy done made the pure ass fool a hisself.

"My name is Jacob. I mean, it's Jacob ... Jacob Hannah."

Please Lord!!! Please give me the what to say!

"I drew ... I have drawd ... the lot to speak first. Yeah, Elder Cole'n me drawd lots and the lot fell ta me, an that's the Lord's way a sayin I shoulda oughta speak first..."

Rose felt there might be, perhaps 30 seconds more of calm in the chapel before people started to walk out.

SPEAK, damn you!

Get on with it!

Answer the goddamned Reverend's goddamned questions before we all rush out of this crazy farm.

What do you idiots think of God?

That big one with the dark beard-- somehow he's dignified and mean at the same time.

"Mr. Leach, when we come back there will be more than two of us. I'll have the law and perhaps a barrister if I can find one. That shouldn't be too difficult if we mention the Leach family name."

Jacob added, "An if I find you here with a gang, I won't try to discuss a thing. The law can sort it out after I break your back!"

Rose could not believe men would risk a fight over her after what she'd become. Why would they risk injury over a whore? Maybe risk their own death in the river.

Jacob saw her face, remembering he could do nothing unless the girl gave him some encouragement.

"That is, of course, if you, Miss Blake, won't mind my comin back to escort ya home to yer father?"

Ollie made a slight move, probably intending to catch her eye with a threatening look. This American making a fool of himself over an English trollop. Why?

Her resolve fled ... then returned. It seemed possible that in one moment she could push Albert and Abigail away; forever freeing them from a daughter's shame; doing it for their own good.

Let them get on with their lives without their child's chains around their necks too. Oh, how much better to make the break with her father, once and for all, no matter the pain of the moment.

But then to what? She would be a slave to Leach; to his business of procuring women for those who would pay, not to mention his own need for a woman to roll with.

The Americans?

What about them?

That big one with the dark beard-- dressed more roughly than the farmers of England when they dress up. Yet somehow he's dignified and mean at the same time.

Her next thoughts made her blush. Think he's interested in you?

A preacher?

Interested in a whore?

Sinner among sinners?

Lady of the night?

Interested in you?

No...

Albert ...

He's interested in preaching to Albert and using me.

But still he's willing to challenge Ollie to fight here and now for me.

She saw Leach's impatient silent threat again and felt anger; then hopeful about escape.

But for how long? How long if the Americans aren't around the next time? What if I leave Ollie and they then leave me? Ollie will get me back or send me into the river.

'Jacob', the other one called him, Jacob is willing to fight for me. What would it take to hold on to him?

I'm such a fool! Why would he be interested?

She looked one more time at Leach; afraid and knowing she had good reason to fear. But then, to her surprise as much as anyone's, she nodded at Jacob.

"Would you please? I mean, you wouldn't mind coming back for me?"

Jacob Hannah on how he’d like to preach

"Uh, Brothers and Sisters!” he managed to choke out. How he hated those sissified words! It was more practical and comfortable to say 'ladies and gentlemen' but he was not permitted to say that. It wasn't preachy enough.

'Ladies and gentlemen' was something you might say to a crowd about to look into your tent to see a two-headed calf or a woman with a beard. But he'd have felt a little better talking like that anyway.

LAYYYDDDIIIEEES AND GENTLEMEN!

Come up here and let me tell you about God jumping down from his throne and scarin hell out of a young boy in the woods!

Pay me yer shillings and I'll excite you through and through! I'll tell ya things you'll hardly believe, but you'll get your money's worth! It'll thrill ya. If God coming to Earth in the 1800's don't thrill ya, then it oughta make ya laugh and you still won't miss your shilling!

But old Turner'd never let him say it like that because they had come to preach, not bark.