Belonging to Heaven, page 20
“Practical salvation,” George offered.
“Exactly right, Brother Cannon. Practical salvation.” He clasped his hands over his stomach. “Three things bothered me at that time. First, although King Kamehameha gave us permission to buy land, we were not allowed to send out our missionaries to preach the gospel. The Protestant advisors in his government had convinced him that we were not Christians under their definition.” George noticed that the president looked as though he were biting back a bitter response to that nonsense. “Of course, that edict has never really been enforced, and the gospel message is going forth in the islands.” He gave each man a satisfied smile and continued with his concerns. “Second, I was severely disappointed in the fiasco that happened on Lanai with Mr. Gibson.” Brother Smith nodded his head in agreement; an action President Young noted. “Yes, we will certainly be discussing that matter in relation to the settlement at Laie.” He gave Brother Smith a perceptive look and stood. He walked to the window. “And third, I do not know if our Hawaiian brothers and sisters will ever be faithful enough to merit the fullness of the gospel.” Brother Cannon and Brother Smith protested at once, and President Young chuckled. “Yes, I thought that might get you going.” He turned to them. “So let us discuss this last concern first. Brother Cannon, do you disagree with what Brother Napela said in his letter about the uncivilized state of many of the Saints?”
“I do.”
“Disagree?”
“Yes.”
President Young returned to his seat. “Convince me.”
“I found that the missionaries who were most successful with the Hawaiian people were those who respected their goodness and culture, the ones who acknowledged their simple faith and openness. I think we need to appreciate how far they’ve come from their first contact with foreigners.”
“That is reasonable, but what of Brother Napela’s concerns?”
“I think Brother Napela is an intelligent man, and I believe he sees the vision that we see for the future of this sacred people, but I think he is trying to please the leaders of the Church. I think he is anxious for the changes to come quickly.”
“But you do not feel this urgency?”
“No. I think the nicety of eating with a knife and fork is something that will come, but I do not think it should be the criteria for judging a person’s fitness for the kingdom. When the Lord dipped the bread in the sop, was he not using his fingers?”
Brother Smith grinned, and President Young grunted. “And what about their manner of dress, Brother Cannon?”
“Must all men dress alike? Because the Lord wore robes and sandals, should we wear robes and sandals?” Brother Smith coughed to cover a chuckle. George ignored him and went on. “As long as they are modestly covered, is that not pleasing to the Lord?”
Brother Smith cut in. “If I may, President?”
“Of course, Brother Smith.”
The twenty-nine-year-old sat straighter. “I think their manner of eating and the way they dress are side issues. Your question was if the Hawaiian Saints would ever be faithful enough for the fullness of the gospel.”
“Yes, and there is the question of their moral behavior.” President Young fixed Brother Smith with the eye of a prophet. “Do you not think their moral behavior should be called into question?”
“Of course, but they have come out of a society who, prior to the Protestant missionaries, had a”—he looked at Brother Cannon—“unique moral foundation.”
George watched a flush of color creep into Brother Smith’s face.
President Young leaned forward. “You are not suggesting that we bend the doctrine of chastity for their unique moral foundation, are you, Brother Smith?”
Brother Smith turned even redder, but he held his ground. “No, not at all. All I’m saying is that those who truly embrace the gospel are extremely faithful, President. They work diligently to give up the old ways and to be obedient to the doctrines.”
The President turned his gaze to Brother Cannon. “Brother Cannon?”
“The faith of the stalwart Hawaiian Saints is a mighty thing.” His voice grew thick with emotion. “If you had the chance to walk among them, President, you would see their faith in priesthood power and miracles.”
President Young nodded. “I have heard such reports from several of the missionaries who served in Hawaii, Brother Cannon, but from 1857 to 1865 we saw a drop in membership from 4,000 members to 300. Where was the faith of the Saints? Where were the stalwart members?” Both young apostles hung their heads, and George heard a softer tone come into President Young’s voice. “I need to know what happened, so if we continue this missionary effort and the gathering at Laie, we won’t make the same mistakes.” He hesitated. “Brother Smith? You were sent to the Hawaiian mission when you were fifteen.”
Joseph F. Smith looked at his leader. “Yes, President.”
“And you learned the Hawaiian language in one hundred days.” Brother Smith nodded. “Would you say that was a miracle?”
“A miracle, a gift of the Spirit, and a blessing.” He and George shared a look. “Brother Napela was also instrumental. I could not have done it without his teaching as well as the help of many others of the native Saints.”
“And you felt that the Lord was with you in the work?” President Young questioned.
“Very much so.”
President Young fixed the young man with an uncompromising look. “So, what happened?”
Brother Smith swallowed, and George was glad he wasn’t the one under the prophet’s scrutiny. “Well, the gathering to the island of Lanai was difficult for them.”
President Young didn’t blink. “Go on.”
“I think it’s important to understand the Hawaiian people’s attachment to the land, President. They are kamaaina—children of the land—and they are attached to the places of their birth, so asking them to uproot themselves to another place is difficult. Only the very strong members abandoned their homes to go to Lanai, which left the branches in other areas weak.”
The President turned his gaze to Brother Cannon. “What else?”
George’s mind raced to form an answer. “The missionary work done by the native brethren is impressive, President. Elder Napela himself is responsible for hundreds of his brothers and sisters joining the Church. They are faithful and committed to the work.” He hesitated.
“But . . .” President Young adroitly assessed.
“But the calling of all the American missionaries home in 1857 caused a great upheaval.”
President Young rubbed his hands over his face, and a growl rumbled from his chest. “There was nothing for it. I had the U.S. government breathing down my neck, sending out troops, and threatening our people here in Utah.”
“Without question, it was a necessary action, but it left the Hawaiian Saints like sheep without shepherds.”
“And they need shepherds.”
“Yes. I don’t think it’s very different from the rest of us. Look how many of the Saints in Nauvoo lost faith after the deaths of Joseph and Hyrum.”
Brother Smith concurred. “Napela and some of the other native elders did the best they could during that time, but things were difficult on Lanai: water was scarce, crops were damaged or destroyed by vermin and worms, and they didn’t have transport to get what they did grow to markets in Lahaina and Honolulu. Many of the members slid back to an easier way; many returned to their homes on the other islands.”
“And into that muddle steps Mr. Gibson.”
George looked over at his friend Joseph, and noted the expression of disgust that stamped itself onto his face. He felt the same. It turned his stomach to think that a priesthood bearer could be so full of avarice and self-glory that he would take advantage of the trusting Hawaiian people. Mr. Gibson had taught them false doctrine, sold priesthood offices, and put land titles under his name—bilking the Saints out of property to which they’d contributed. His actions had caused a stain on the reputation of the Church—a stain that the Protestant ministers flaunted with utmost satisfaction.
Brother Smith spoke at once, and there was flint in his normally genial voice. “Mr. Gibson is a swindler and a rogue, and I say good riddance to his excommunicated hide.”
President Young laughed. “Well said, Brother Smith, but I must take responsibility for some of that calamity. I gave him permission to check on the Lanai colony.”
“To check on it, not to become the self-proclaimed king,” Brother Cannon answered. “Besides, you had your share of work to attend to at that time.”
“No excuse for being a poor steward in a part of the Lord’s vineyard, Brother Cannon.”
“But as soon as the native elders sent the letter detailing Mr. Gibson’s devilish behavior, you took action immediately.”
He gave Brother Smith a half grin. “Yes, Brother Cannon, it seems the brethren I sent to Lanai sorted out the mess as efficiently as could be expected.” He sobered. “But unfortunately, by that time many of the Hawaiian Saints were discouraged and had fallen away. I do not wish that to happen again.”
George prayed for insight, and, with the silence in the room, he knew his brethren were doing the same. A memory floated into his mind and filled him with the Spirit. “I was present at a prayer meeting we missionaries held prior to a Church conference in Wailuku. At this meeting, Elder Woodbury spoke in tongues and Brother Hammond translated. In the blessing, Brother Woodbury indicated that holy temples would someday be built upon the islands to bless the lives of the people.” George looked steadfastly at President Young. “I have no idea when this will take place, but I do believe the Hawaiian Saints are some of God’s dearest children, and, as Woodbury’s vision indicated, they deserve every blessing of the restored gospel.”
“I feel the same, Brother Cannon. They are a sacred branch of the vine of Israel,” President Young said. “That has never been in question. But can we pull them away from the world, brothers? Can we expect this gathering to be successful?”
“Yes. It will be successful,” Brother Smith said simply. “But it will not be the same kind of gathering as we have here. I think if we strengthen those who choose to gather to Laie, and also strengthen the good members in their individual towns and villages, then the entire Church in the islands will flourish.”
President Young chuckled. “A partial gathering.”
“To go along with a practical salvation,” Brother Cannon added.
“Just so, Brother Cannon. Just so.” President Young paused and looked at each man carefully. “So, you think we should go on with our work in the islands?”
They both said, yes—enthusiastically.
“And I should consider a request from President Nebeker for the Laie colony?”
“What request?” George questioned. As President Young’s secretary he was privy to most correspondence, but was unsure about this piece of business.
“Under the advice of Elder Napela, President Nebeker has requested that the Church consider building a sugar mill at the colony. That way we would not have to pay the other large sugar growers to process the sugar we grow.”
“I think that’s a grand idea,” Brother Cannon said immediately.
“Do you?”
“Yes, President Young, a grand idea.”
“At first I thought cotton would be the way to go, but it seems sugar is a better crop for the climate.”
Brother Smith nodded. “I agree, President. And it seems as though Brother Napela has some insight into the possibilities.”
President Young grinned. “Oh, I have no doubt that our Brother Napela has his eyes and heart on all the possibilities for his brothers and sisters in the islands.” He sat back in his chair and George thought he saw a look of contentment soften his features. “Mahalo, brethren. You have given me much good counsel and much to pray about.”
Brother Cannon and Brother Smith shared a grin at President Young’s pronunciation of the word, mahalo. He’d pronounced “halo” like the crown of light around an angel’s head. They found his attempt at the language endearing.
The meeting ended with prayer, and the three men each headed home to family and supper. George Cannon walked past Cannon and Son’s Bookstore and publishing house, debating whether or not to stop in for a few minutes to check on a few orders. He shook his head. No, he was anxious to get home and share news with his wives, and hug his children. Work would still be there in the morning. A cool evening breeze tugged at his hat, and George felt invigorated. He thought back to the windy days when he and Brother Napela had ridden horses to Kula, or through the cold winds and rain along the beautiful coast of Koolau. He knew that the years had brought change for them both, and he sent out a prayer of gratitude for his Hawaiian brother. He also sent out a blessing for the new venture at Laie’s sugar plantation.
Notes
Brother Cannon was called to be an Apostle in 1859 at the age of thirty-two. He served as a counselor to Brigham Young, John Taylor, Wilford Woodruff, and Lorenzo Snow. Brother Joseph F. Smith was called to be an Apostle in 1866 at the age of twenty-eight.
Joseph F. Smith was called to the Sandwich Islands Mission when he was fifteen years old. He served from 1854 to 1857.
Walter Murray Gibson made himself the “king” of the Lanai settlement. In a quotation from his diary he writes: “Who or what shall I fear when I am King—and I shall keep within my Kingdom . . . I am King; not of oceanica, not of Malaysia, not of Hawaii nei, not of Lanai, but of Palawai on this day of grace. But this is but the baby of my Kingdom. Oh smiling Palawai, thou infant hope of my glorious kingdom.”
Elder Woodbury’s vision of temples in Hawaii was truly fulfilled when in January of 2000 the second temple in Hawaii was dedicated in Kona. The first temple was dedicated in 1919 at Laie, Oahu.
George Q. Cannon had six wives and forty-three children.
Chapter 32
Honolulu, Oahu
October 21, 1868
Hattie Panana Napela grabbed her boater hat off the peg at the back of the classroom, flung her satchel over her shoulder, and headed for the door and freedom. Her instructor’s voice caused her only a moment’s hesitation.
“Miss Napela, a daughter of high standing should act with more decorum.”
“Yes, sir,” she said as she moved outside without stopping. She quickly navigated the wooden landing, which ran the length of the second story, and hurried down the steps on the side of the building. She’d built up so much momentum that she had to grab the railing at the bottom to keep herself from falling. Even with this action her feet began to slide and she smashed into a young man attempting to ascend the stairs.
“Hemahema!” Clumsy. “Watch where you’re going!”
Hattie righted herself and looked up. “Sorry. I’m so sorry.”
When the young man saw the girl’s face his irritation turned to embarrassment. “Miss Napela! No, really, I’m sorry. I . . . I should have been more careful.”
She laughed. “Kamuela Parker, are you apologizing to me for my lack of decorum?”
“You know my name?”
She gave him a quizzical look. “I know everyone’s name. Oahu College is not that big of a school, Mr. Parker.” She put her hat on her head. “Besides, aren’t you the boy who is always giving candy and flowers to all the girls?”
Kamuela was taken aback by her straightforward manner but managed a smile. “I believe all women should have flowers and candy.”
Hattie began walking and Kamuela followed. “Admirable, Mr. Parker, but such actions do tend to make a name for a person.” He tried to respond, but she went on. “And, you know my name, and I have done nothing of note to make a name for myself.”
The boy stood straighter. “But, you are you.”
“And what does that mean?”
“The daughter of a royal Maui family.”
Hattie stopped. “And how do you know that? Aia a pai ‘ia ka maka, ha‘i ‘ia kupuna nana ‘oe.” Only when your face is slapped should you tell who your ancestors are. She looked at him straight on. “I don’t go blabbing my pedigree to everyone.”
”No . . . no, of course not, Miss Napela,” Kamuela stammered.
Hattie scoffed. “It’s all foolishness, anyway. Isn’t your grandmother the granddaughter of Kamehameha I?”
Kamuela stammered. “I . . . well, I . . .”
She started walking again. “Never mind, Mr. Parker, as my father says, we are all only little fish in the big Moloka‘i fish ponds.”
Kamuela walked casually by her side. “I like that. Your father is very wise, Miss Napela.”
She gave him a wry grin. “Of course, with your family, you wouldn’t be fish; more likely you’d be little cows on a big Waimea ranch.”
Kamuela laughed. “So, you are aware of my ancestry too.” Hattie gave him a half smile, and he was brash enough to wink at her. “Actually I knew your face before I knew anything about your background.”
Hattie stopped again. “And how is that, Mr. Parker?”
“Your cousin, Mary Ellen Richardson, showed me a picture of you before you arrived here.”
“Oh she did, did she?”
“Yes. And it was a grand picture, but it did not do you justice.”
Hattie felt heat rise into her face. “What nonsense.” She moved off quickly. “And now I must run, Mr. Parker. I am done with school for the day.”
Suddenly he was beside her. “You are leaving school early?”
“I am.”
“Where—where are you going?”
Hattie could tell he wished those words back in his mouth. “Aia no i ke au a ka wawae,” she replied. “Do you wish to jinx my trip before I begin, Mr. Parker?”
“No, of course not, Miss Napela.”
She took pity on him. “I’m meeting my parents by the main gate. We are going to Laie for a celebration.”
