Belonging to Heaven, page 6
The town of Lahaina on the island of Maui was the first capital of the Kingdom of Hawaii. In the early nineteenth century it was a great whaling port.
Though fictional, the letters from Elder Cannon to Mary and to other missionaries contain many actual occurrences taken from his 1850–1854 journal.
Chapter 5
Lahaina, Maui
December 21, 1850
President Clark,
We have secured a thatched house for $4 a week. I know it is a high price, but there was nothing else available. It is sparsely furnished, but there is a desk and a few chairs and mats for sleeping. We have evaluated the town and find that, out of the several thousand in population, there are only about fifty haoles or non-natives here and that includes sailors. There are only two white families in the town.
We thought it best to go and see the American Consul Charles Bunker and get an introduction to Governor James Young Kanehoa, so that we might have the sanction of the authorities. We feel it important to be introduced to the highest authority we can find and to state clearly what our intention is for preaching. Consul Bunker was a gentleman, and he was pleased we called upon him. He was very interested about the Territory of Deseret and the troubles the Mormon people have had. Later that day he introduced us to Governor Kanehoa. He is a pleasant old man. His mother was Hawaiian and his father an Englishman. He spoke English very well. He gave his sanction to preach as much as we wanted. We asked him about a public building in which we could hold our meetings and he did not know of one. He said he would think about it.
In the evening several of the natives came in and they told us the names of many things and sang for us. We are in considerable better spirits about learning the language.
A servant of the Lord,
Brother George Cannon
George made sure the ink was dry, folded the letter, and placed it in the addressed envelope. He thought back on the meeting with Consul Bunker and Governor Kanehoa and how grateful he was that Brothers Keeler and Bigler were with him. He had been happy to stand back and let them converse with the officials, watching and learning from their example.
George stood and went to the door of the hut looking out on the blue water of the sea. “Moana—ocean.” He thumped his hand on the doorframe. “Hale—house. Mahalo—thank you. Aloha—” he laughed. “Hello, good-bye, I care about you.”
Brother Bigler called to him from the yard, where he was doing his laundry in a tin bucket. “Brother Cannon, are you feeling all right? I’m a little worried about you standing there mumbling to yourself.”
George walked down to him. “I was just trying to remember some of the Hawaiian words those fellows taught us last night.”
“Well, you were a good deal better at it than me or Brother Keeler,” Brother Bigler said, twisting the water out of his shirt and hanging it on the branch of a tree. “I couldn’t get all those vowels straight.”
Brother Keeler emerged from the hut. “Good morning. Cold sweet potatoes for breakfast, anyone?”
“Is that all we have to eat?” George asked, trying to keep the disappointment out of his voice.
“It is,” Brother Keeler answered, walking down to them, “unless you have some eggs and bread you’re hiding from us.”
George shook his head and answered in a thick English accent. “Nor do I have scones, or orange marmalade, though I wish I did.”
Brother Bigler nodded. “What I wouldn’t give for some johnnycakes.”
“Well, I think those would be hard to come by,” George answered, “but I’m going into town this morning to post a letter to President Clark, and I’ll pick up some bread when I’m there.”
“And bananas if you can find a few,” Brother Keeler added.
George turned to the house to fetch his suit jacket and then changed his mind and turned back. He felt again the disparity in age between him and his companions, but he had to trust in President Clark’s prompting that chose him as leader. He gathered his confidence. “There’s something I wish to discuss with you, brethren, if you don’t mind.” He looked out to the ocean. “I say we walk down to the water.”
Brother Keeler brightened. “Sounds like a wonderful idea.”
“Are you sure you’re finished with your laundry, Brother Bigler?” George asked.
The man chuckled. “Doesn’t take long to wash one shirt.”
The three missionaries headed to the beach. As they neared the water’s edge, the breeze picked up, and George felt the heaviness of the morning lift. He wasn’t a man prone to sadness, but the past week had been a trial for him. At some point in every day he found himself fighting doubt and loneliness.
George took off his shoes and socks and set them in the shade of a broad-leafed tree. He wondered what the name of the tree was in the Hawaiian language. He rolled up his pant legs and walked into the water. Brother Bigler and Brother Keeler followed their leader’s example. The three men stood for the longest time enjoying the splash of the water on their legs and looking out over the channel to the island of Lanai. Finally George spoke.
“It is a beautiful land.” The other men concurred. “It is different from anything I could have imagined.” The men concurred again. “I mean, I’d heard about the Sandwich Islands and seen a few scientific pictures, but this is different from what I expected.” The men were silent. George knew he was rambling, but he was trying to organize his thoughts, gather his courage, and pray for the guidance of the Spirit all at the same time. “I say if we confine our preaching to the whites, our mission on this island will be very short,” he said in a rush.
Brother Bigler looked at him squarely. “Is this the revelation you’ve received for the mission on Maui, Brother Cannon?”
George had received a strong feeling about how the mission should proceed, but as he looked at his companions, he was reminded of his youth and he stammered. “I . . . well, I want to get your thoughts on the matter.”
“But, you are the leader. The decision rests with you.”
“Yes, but you are my helpers and companions.” And older, he thought. “I value your advice.”
The two men shared a smile.
Brother Keeler picked up a smooth stone and skimmed it across the water. “So, the question is, should we preach to the native Hawaiians?”
George nodded.
“Which means we would have to learn the language,” Brother Bigler said.
“Yes, of course,” George replied quickly.
“Because, if we preach only to the whites on Maui, our mission would probably be finished by the end of January,” Brother Keeler added.
“Yes. I don’t see much promise in it,” George said.
“But, that would mean going against the commission we were given by President Clark to preach to the whites on the islands,” Brother Bigler reminded.
“But, he didn’t know the circumstances,” George retorted. “Besides, he told me that if I were to receive revelation to preach to the native Hawaiians then I should follow that prompting and the Lord would help me . . . us.”
“And is that what’s happened? Have you received revelation?”
George was uncomfortable with the way Brother Bigler was scrutinizing him, but he wasn’t going to back down. “I wish to preach to the whites and to the natives. I’ve made up my mind to master the language and warn the people of the islands. The spirit of the work is upon me. If I have to do it alone, I will. I cannot do otherwise and be free from condemnation.”
Brother Bigler’s eyebrows rose, and Brother Keeler stepped back, shaking his head. They looked at each other and Brother Bigler spoke.
“We had a feeling that’s the way the horse was headed.”
George felt rather foolish standing barefooted in the water, but he held the look of resolution on his face. “So, how do you answer?”
Brother Bigler looked out over the water. “If you must know the truth, Brother Cannon, I feel the same. No sense trying to preach only to the whites. I say the Lord loves all his children.”
George fought back his boyish elation, and turned to Brother Keeler. “Brother Keeler, how do you feel about this?”
James Keeler gave him a half grin. “I have just one word to say on the matter, Brother Cannon. Mahalo.”
Note
With the unification of the islands under Kamehameha I, the ancient Hawaiian society was transformed into an independent, constitutional monarchy crafted in the tradition and manner of a European monarchy.
Chapter 6
Lahaina, Maui
December 29, 1850
Dear Mary,
The year is almost at an end, and each New Year seems to find us living in a different place. I hope you are well. I have been fairly well, but the food is a little hard to get used to. We employed the man we rented the house from to cook our food, and it is mostly sweet potatoes and fish, or meat.
I, along with Brother Bigler, and Brother Keeler have made up our minds to preach to the Hawaiian people, so have been studying the language for the past week or so. You would laugh to see three haole (white) men lying about on mats as the native speakers teach us.
I will write a little about the thatched hut in which we live. Perhaps you and the children will find it interesting. Perhaps Charles will also be interested as it is so different from the adobe house he built in the Valley. These native houses are built by putting posts in the ground, on which a board is laid as a plate for the rafters to rest upon. Then poles, about the size of hoop-poles, are lashed horizontally, about six inches apart, on to the posts and rafters. The house is then thatched by fastening a durable grass called pili grass, which they have in this country, onto the poles. When finished, a house looks, in shape and size, like a well-built hay stack. Such houses are only suited to a warm country where they never have frost. Inside the house they have no board floors. The ground is covered with grass, on which mats are laid . . . the mats answer the purpose of beds, tables, and chairs. We sit upon them, and they form our beds. There isn’t any other sort of furniture, but in consideration of our being white men, the man of whom we rented the house found us a table and three chairs.
I know you will receive this long after the New Year, but know that my prayers are with the family and that I am doing all I can to serve the Lord according to His will. Today we are going to a meeting at the Native Chapel and then to the Seaman’s Chapel. We are hoping they will ring the bell for us to preach. It is difficult because we do not have a meetinghouse in which to assemble and must rely on the benevolence of other ministers.
I checked for mail at the Custom House to see if there were any letters, but none had arrived. I understand that post is sent from San Francisco only twice monthly, so I will not get too discouraged. Have you any word on how my friend Sister Elizabeth Hoagland is faring? If you see her, will you wish her well from me, and tell her that she could write me here, if she wished?
I hope the winter weather is not too harsh.
Your loving brother, George
“Brother Cannon!” Brother Bigler called. “Have you finished your letter?”
George stood quickly, grabbing his coat and heading for the door. “I have, Brother Bigler. Just.” He waved the pages in the air as he emerged from the hut into the bright sunlight.
“It’s time we were off to our meetings.”
“Yes, I know. Sorry. I got carried away describing our thatched house to the family.” He was struggling to hold the pages and get into his coat at the same time.
Brother Keeler reached out for the letter and held it while George dressed. “You’re a much better letter writer than I am, Brother Cannon. I cannot spell to save my soul.” He chuckled. “Maybe I’ll do better in Hawaiian since there are so few letters in the alphabet.”
George chuckled. “Fewer letters means that one word may have several different meanings, Brother Keeler.”
Brother Bigler scowled at him. “That is not really helpful, Brother Cannon.”
George took back his letter and patted the big man on the arm. “We do believe in the gift of tongues, Brother Bigler.” He shared a smile with Brother Keeler.
Brother Bigler grunted. “Maybe I’m too old to get another language into my brain.” He started off down the road. “Come on, we don’t want to miss the Native meeting where I won’t be able to make out a word of the sermon.”
“It’s good practice,” George said, as he and Brother Keeler followed quickly behind.
All they could hear from the man in front of them was mumbling.
***
“Mr. Bigler, is it?” Reverend Taylor questioned as he reached out his hand. “I met you in my office a few days ago?”
“Yes, sir,” Brother Bigler said, taking the handshake. “Good to see you again.”
“Were you in attendance at the Native meeting?”
“We were, yes.”
The man nodded. “Pity you cannot understand the language.”
Brother Bigler gave a look to his companions. “Well, Reverend Taylor, we are attempting to learn.”
“Really? It is not an easy task, let me tell you.”
Brother Bigler changed the subject. “That was a mighty fine sermon you gave, sir. The wages of sin is death.”
Reverend Taylor grinned slightly. “I find it appropriate for the sailors.”
“Indeed.”
“Thank you for reading out the note about our meeting at half past three,” George said, stepping forward.
“And for the use of your meetinghouse,” Brother Keeler added.
“It is my duty, gentlemen. I will be interested to hear your sermon.” He nodded at them and moved off to speak with a few of his parishioners.
“I wonder if he’ll be as interested after he hears our sermon,” Brother Bigler said aside to his companions.
True to his word, Reverend Taylor rang the bell for the preaching of the Mormon missionaries, and a fair crowd of people assembled in the meetinghouse. George felt like a bug under a glass. Some people were staring at them with curiosity, while others looked downright suspicious, and he wondered what gossip and rumors had circulated during the afternoon hiatus. The gathering was not large, but as George glanced around at the sea of unfamiliar faces, he felt a coil of cold fear snake up his spine. Earlier that day he had tried to get out of preaching, but to no avail.
“I think, if we’re given the opportunity to preach, that Brother Bigler should go first and teach the first principles of the gospel and the plan of salvation.” Brother Bigler nodded. “And then, Brother Keeler should teach about the Holy Ghost.”
“And what will be your topic, Brother Cannon?”
“Well, I . . . I will bear my testimony to the truthfulness of what the two of you have said and dismiss the meeting.”
Brother Bigler had given him another of those scrutinizing looks and strongly suggested an alternative program. Now George would be speaking on the Holy Ghost and Brother Keeler would be testifying and dismissing the meeting. George felt hot and clammy. Maybe I’ll pass out and won’t have to preach.
Brother Bigler stood, and the congregation quieted. He welcomed them as friends and began immediately to preach the first principles of the gospel. He opened the Bible and taught the plan of salvation from the New Testament. George paid attention to the man’s easygoing stance and the strength of voice. He also glanced at the members of the group and wondered if they realized that they were hearing the doctrine as taught in Christ’s primitive church. George swallowed hard, wondering if the people would be as attentive to the words when they were offered by a much less able speaker. He did not have to wait long to find out.
Brother Bigler held out the Bible to him. “And now, Mr. Cannon will give you a discourse on the Holy Ghost.”
A discourse? George felt the blood drain from his head. Please, Lord, help me to stand up. Help words to come out of my mouth. He worked hard to keep his hand from trembling as he reached out for the Bible. He held it to his chest and stood. He tried not to look at anyone directly.
“Dear friends.” His breathing steadied. “I have a great message to share with you.” His heart stopped pounding against his ribs. “I testify to you that if a man has the Holy Ghost to be his guide, it will lead him into all truth and not a part.” His body filled with warmth. “If a man had this Spirit upon the Sandwich Islands it would reveal the same things to him that it would to a man upon the Continent of America.” His voice gained strength. “And if the world had this Spirit, then men would not be split up the way they are. If a man had the light of the Spirit, then he would not be blown about by every wind of doctrine.” Several sailors nodded in agreement, and George figured they knew a thing or two about being blown about in a strong wind. “My friends and I come to you to preach a restoration of light. Light that has been absent in the world for a long time.”
A man stood and interrupted. “What additional light are you offering, preacher?” George opened his mouth, but no words were forthcoming. The man gave him a contemptuous look and continued. “I say that the different churches we know have the Spirit of the Lord, and light enough for me.” George saw Reverend Taylor nod as the man continued. “What is your evidence that you have some additional light to give us?”
George tried to organize his thoughts, but all he could think about was the man’s shock of silver hair and his black walking stick. Perhaps he’s a government official. George stepped back, and suddenly Brother Bigler was beside him.
“Sir, our faith is founded in the same priesthood authority that marked the ancient church. Our additional light includes revelation to apostles and prophets, and the gifts of the Spirit as we read about in the days of the Savior.” The man stood glaring as Brother Bigler continued. “If you want evidence of its truth or falsity you must do as the Savior recommended and ask the Father in the name of Jesus if what we say is true. If you ask sincerely then He will give you the necessary evidence.”
