Chapter 24
Our Search for Truth
The BYU Jerusalem Center for Near Eastern Studies opened its doors to eighty students on March 8, 1987. Early that morning, three moving vans and two buses arrived at Kibbutz Ramat Rahel, the community on the southeast edge of Jerusalem where the university’s study abroad students had lived and studied for the last seven years. Eager to move into the new center, the students cheerfully loaded their belongings and all the school’s equipment into the vehicles. Once they arrived at their new home, they formed a human chain and began passing books, boxes, and suitcases up the staircases ascending Mount Scopus.
David Galbraith, the director of the study abroad program, grinned as he looked on. The school’s staff had worked tirelessly to get the building ready, though parts of it remained unfinished. The staff installed washers and dryers, made room assignments, and purchased supplies. Somehow, they had forgotten to buy towels and toilet paper for the center, but the supplies were now on their way from Tel Aviv.
Two years earlier, when BYU president Jeffrey R. Holland came to Jerusalem with a nonproselytizing agreement, he had made a good impression. Yet Orthodox rabbis were skeptical of the agreement. They continued to stage demonstrations at the construction site, outside the mayor’s office, and in front of David’s home.
Hoping to generate goodwill, the Church had hired one of Israel’s largest public relations firms, which had placed informational ads in newspapers and on television. Several Jewish people who were friendly to the Church also wrote letters to Israeli politicians, vouching for the Saints’ honesty.
Until recently, the city’s municipal inspector had insisted that no one could occupy the building before it was finished. David and his administrative staff, however, had received permission to move into the completed section of the center—the bottom four levels that made up the living quarters and some classrooms. When the municipal inspector learned that multiple city departments had granted the permission, he was amazed.
Once the students were moved in, David assembled them in a large classroom for a three-hour orientation meeting about how to care for the building. The day passed peacefully, with no protests from those who opposed the center’s construction. From the school, the students could enjoy a striking view of Jerusalem’s Old City at sunset. It was a beautiful setting for them to learn more about the ancient city and the people of faith who lived there.
“We are finally into our new building,” David wrote President Holland later that day.
“All these many months we have labored on a building of cement and stone,” he wrote. “The students breathe into it the breath of life, and those cold stone corridors and lifeless rooms now take on an air of happiness.”
Not long after Ezra Taft Benson became president of the Church, he gave Elder Russell M. Nelson a new assignment. “You are to be responsible for all of the affairs of the Church in Europe and Africa,” he told him, “with a special assignment to open up the nations in eastern Europe.”
Elder Nelson was startled. “I’m a heart surgeon,” he thought. “What do I know about opening countries?” With few exceptions, the Church had not sent missionaries to central and eastern Europe since the region came under the influence of the Soviet Union after World War II. Shouldn’t the assignment go to someone more qualified in diplomacy? he wondered. Why not send a lawyer like Elder Dallin H. Oaks?
Keeping his thoughts to himself, Elder Nelson accepted the assignment.
A short time later, diplomatic relations between the United States and the Soviet Union began to improve. In October 1986, Konstantin Kharchev, chair of the Soviet Union’s Council on Religious Affairs, met with Church representatives in Washington, DC. He was anxious for them to understand that religious freedom existed in the Soviet Union. After learning of the meeting, Elder Nelson recommended that the Church send two general authorities to meet with Kharchev and continue the discussion. The First Presidency chose him and Elder Hans B. Ringger of the Seventy to go.
On the morning of June 10, 1987, Elder Nelson and Elder Ringger called at Kharchev’s office in Moscow. Kharchev was preparing to leave town on other business and did not have much time to talk.
“We just want to ask you a question,” Elder Nelson told him. “What would we need to do to get the church we represent established in Russia?”
Kharchev quickly explained that a church could be registered in a district or city once it had twenty adult members living there.
Elder Nelson asked if the Church could open a visitors’ center or reading room in the Soviet Union—a place where people could voluntarily come to learn about the Church’s teachings.
“No,” the chairman replied.
“We have a chicken and egg problem here,” Elder Nelson said. “You say we can’t receive recognition until we have members, but it will be difficult to get any members if we can’t have a reading room or visitors’ center.”
“That is your problem,” Kharchev said. He gave them his telephone number and offered to meet with them again. In the meantime, they could speak with his two deputies. “Good day!” he said.
The deputies provided Elder Nelson and Elder Ringger a little more information. In the Soviet Union, they said, citizens had freedom of conscience and could practice their religion openly. Missionaries were not allowed to proselytize in the country, however, and the government regulated the importation of religious literature. Individuals could hold religious services in their homes, invite others to join them, and share their beliefs with people who expressed interest.
Several places of worship operated around the city, and the deputies arranged for Elder Nelson and Elder Ringger to meet with leaders of local Russian Orthodox, Seventh-day Adventist, evangelical Christian, and Jewish congregations. As they traveled through the city, meeting with fellow people of faith, Elder Nelson and Elder Ringger were surprised by the religious diversity they saw in the officially atheistic country.
Still, as Elder Nelson and Elder Ringger thought about the requirements for establishing a church in the Soviet Union, their task seemed insurmountable. Without missionaries or a reading room, how could they ever reach the twenty people they needed to receive recognition for the Church?
On his final day in Moscow, Elder Nelson could not sleep. He got up and went to Red Square, a large plaza outside the Kremlin, the walled headquarters of the Soviet government. The square was empty, and he thought about the crowds of thousands who would visit the spot later that day. Since coming to the city, he had been moved by the sight of everyday people. He wanted to reach out in love and share the restored gospel of Jesus Christ with each of them.
The questions “Who am I?” and “Why am I here?” kept running through his mind. He knew he was a surgeon, an American, a husband, a father, and a grandfather. But he had come to Moscow as an apostle of the Lord. And while his assignment might seem overwhelming, especially now that he knew how difficult it would be to establish the Church in the Soviet Union, he had hope.
“Apostles know their commission,” he thought. The Savior had charged them to go out into the world and teach every kindred, nation, tongue, and people. The gospel message was for all of God’s children.
In his report of the trip, Elder Nelson expressed his faith in the Lord’s power to open doors to places like central and eastern Europe. “Together we can start—even with small steps—to do the will of our Father in Heaven, who loves all of His children,” he wrote. “The fate and salvation of the souls of three quarters of a billion people depend on our action.”
On August 6, 1987, apostle Dallin H. Oaks was somber as he stood at a podium before a large audience at Brigham Young University. Two years had passed since the bombings in Salt Lake City that killed two Latter-day Saints. In that time, rare document dealer Mark Hofmann had been tried and convicted for the murders. It was also discovered that Mark had forged many of the documents he sold and traded to the Church, including several designed to undermine faith in its sacred history.
During the same two years, scholars at BYU had done much to steady faith. BYU Studies and the university’s Religious Studies Center had published important new books and articles on Joseph Smith and his translations. The Foundation for Ancient Research and Mormon Studies had also begun publishing the collected works of Hugh Nibley, who had written more scholarship than anyone in support of the Book of Mormon and the Pearl of Great Price. And BYU had arranged with a prominent international press to publish the Encyclopedia of Mormonism, containing articles on Church history, doctrine, and practice.
Still, many Saints struggled to make sense of Mark Hofmann’s deceptions, prompting BYU to organize an academic conference about Church history and the Hofmann case. Today, Elder Oaks had come to the conference to speak about the Church’s role in the events surrounding the tragedy.
As the audience knew, Mark was now serving a life sentence in prison. In January, he had confessed to making three bombs, including one that had accidentally injured him. The story he told investigators was complex and tragic. Although he was a lifelong member of the Church, he had lost his faith in God as a young man. In time, he became a skilled forger, and he used his knowledge of Church history to fabricate documents. His purpose in crafting these forgeries, he later admitted, was not only to make money but also to embarrass and discredit the Church. He had murdered two people in a calculated effort to conceal his deceit.
As Elder Oaks opened his remarks, he noted that the murders had received widespread attention in the media. Some commentators had criticized President Gordon B. Hinckley and other Church leaders for acquiring fraudulent documents from Mark, reasoning that truly inspired leaders would not have been fooled by the forgeries. Other people had accused leaders of being secretive about historical issues, even though the Church had published the most significant Hofmann documents and allowed scholars to study them.
Elder Oaks observed that many people, including scholars and nationally recognized forgery experts, had accepted the documents as genuine. He also described the attitude of trust that prevailed among Church leaders.
“In order to perform their personal ministries, Church leaders cannot be suspicious and questioning of each of the hundreds of people they meet each year,” he said. “It is better for a Church leader to be occasionally disappointed than to be constantly suspicious.” If they failed to detect a few deceivers, it was the price required to better counsel and comfort the honest in heart.
Even before the organization of the Church, the Lord had warned Joseph Smith that “you cannot always tell the wicked from the righteous.” Men like Mark Hofmann showed that God does not always protect Church members and leaders from deceitful people.
As he ended his talk, Elder Oaks expressed hope that everyone could learn from the terrible experience. “When it comes to naivete in the face of malevolence,” he acknowledged, “there is blame enough to go around.”
“We should all pursue our search for truth with the tools of honest and objective scholarship and sincere and respectful religious faith,” he concluded. “We all need to be more cautious.”
On April 30, 1988, Isaac “Ike” Ferguson stepped off a plane and felt the heat of N’Djamena, Chad. It was an instant reminder that he was far from the cool spring weather of his home in Bountiful, Utah. All around him, he could see people in white tunics and head coverings. Sandy deserts stretched in all directions toward the horizon.
At the request of the First Presidency, Ike had come to the edge of North Africa’s deserts to check on Church humanitarian projects. For generations, the Church had used its fast offerings mainly to help struggling Saints. In the early 1980s, though, a famine had devastated Ethiopia, where the Church had no official presence. Television footage of starving children and overloaded relief camps touched people around the world, including the Saints. On January 27, 1985, the Church had held a special humanitarian fast in the United States and Canada that raised $6 million in fast offerings for African relief.
A few months later, Elder M. Russell Ballard, one of the presidents of the First Quorum of the Seventy, traveled to Ethiopia to identify humanitarian organizations that could help the Church do the most good. Ike, who had a doctorate degree and professional experience in public health, was then hired to manage the humanitarian donations from an office in Utah. On his first day, he was given a computer, a telephone, and authorization to distribute millions of dollars in aid from the fast for Ethiopia.
Building on the work of Elder Ballard, Ike had contacted other international aid organizations to seek advice on how to best use the donations. He then issued large grants to aid organizations working in Ethiopia and neighboring countries experiencing similar problems. Ten months after the initial fast, the Church had held a second fast for hunger relief.
The Saints’ contributions in Ethiopia proved so helpful that Church Welfare Services began partnering with relief agencies in other parts of the world. Before long, Ike was helping to set up a health fair in the Caribbean, send medical equipment to assist children with cerebral palsy in Hungary, and deliver immunizations to Bolivia.
After arriving in N’Djamena, Ike spent several days visiting humanitarian sites in Chad and Niger. He flew to Niger’s Majia Valley, where the Church had donated hundreds of thousands of dollars to a reforestation project. From the air, he could see rows of drought-resistant trees forming a “living fence” between the valley’s rich farmland and the encroaching desert. The plane landed, and representatives from one of the Church’s humanitarian partners drove him through the reforested areas.
Ike learned that the trees stopped the winds from eroding the soil and provided fodder for sheep, goats, and cattle. They also provided a long-term fuel source for people living nearby. Farmers in the area had increased their agricultural production by as much as 30 percent since the project began, preserving many lives from the ravages of the desert.
A few days later, Ike flew to Ghana, where the Church now had a mission and dozens of branches. There he met with a partner organization, Africare, to consult on a forty-acre Church welfare farm in Abomosu, a town some eighty miles northwest of Accra.
The farm was created in 1985 after a severe drought depleted food supplies throughout the country. Like the Church’s welfare farms in the United States, it provided food for people in need while also fostering independence and self-reliance. Local Saints managed the farm with some assistance from the Ghana Accra Mission. At first, all laborers had been volunteers, but now the farm paid its workers, most of whom were members of the Church.
After three growing seasons, the farm had been moderately successful in producing corn, cassava, plantain, and other crops for people in need. But the good it was doing did not yet match the high cost of its maintenance.
The Africare consultants told Ike they believed the farm would best serve the local community if the Church allowed people in Abomosu to turn the farm into a cooperative venture. Local farmers, using traditional cultivation techniques, could work together to provide more food for the community. The Church would still provide some financial support for the farm without carrying the full responsibility for its success.
Before leaving Ghana, Ike and the consultants presented this idea to about 150 members of the Abomosu community, including the local tribal leader. The plan was well received, and many farmers were eager to take part in the cooperative.
That same April, Manuel Navarro came to his father with some disappointing news. For the past few months, he had been in Lima, Peru, studying hard to enter a prestigious university in the city. Yet despite his best efforts, he had failed to get into the school. If he wanted to try again to be admitted, he would need to study for another six months.
“Manuel,” his father said, “do you want to continue preparing for university, or do you want to prepare for a mission?”
Manuel knew the prophet had asked every worthy and able young man in the Church to serve a mission. And his patriarchal blessing spoke of missionary service. Yet he had planned to go on a mission after enrolling in the university. He believed it would be easier for him to return to university after the mission if he could reserve his enrollment before leaving. Now he didn’t know what to do. His father told him to take some time to decide.
Right away, Manuel read the Book of Mormon and prayed. As he did, he felt the Spirit guiding his decision. By the very next day, he was ready with his answer. He knew he needed to serve a mission.
“OK,” his father said. “Let’s help you.”
One of the first things Manuel did was find a job. He assumed that he’d work at a nearby bank, since his father knew some of the employees there. But instead, his father drove him downtown to the construction site of the branch’s first chapel. He asked the supervisor if there was a position for Manuel on the construction crew. “No problem,” the supervisor said. “We’ll put him to work.”
Manuel joined the crew in June, and each time he got paid, the worker who gave him his check reminded him to use it for his mission. Manuel’s mother also helped him set aside most of the check for his mission fund and tithing.
Missions were costly, and Peru’s struggling economy made it difficult for many Saints there to fully fund their missions. For years, all full-time missionaries had depended on themselves, their families, their congregations, and even the kindness of strangers to fund their missions. After President Kimball urged all eligible young men to serve, the Church invited its members to contribute to a general missionary fund for those who needed financial help.
Now local funds were expected to cover at least a third of mission costs. If missionaries could not pay for the rest, they could draw upon the general fund. In Peru and other South American countries, Church leaders also set up a system where local members provided missionaries one meal each day, helping them save money. Manuel arranged to pay for half of his mission while his parents paid for the rest.
After working for about six months, Manuel received his mission call. His father said they could either open it right away or wait until Sunday and read it in sacrament meeting. Manuel couldn’t wait that long, but he would wait until his mother got off work that evening.
When she finally got home, Manuel opened the envelope, and his eyes first went to President Ezra Taft Benson’s signature. He then began reading the rest of the call, his heartbeat racing with every word. When he saw that he would be serving in the Peru Lima North Mission, he was overjoyed.
It had always been his desire to serve a mission in his home country.
During the last session of the April 1989 general conference, President Ezra Taft Benson sat near the pulpit in the Salt Lake Tabernacle, enjoying the inspired messages of the speakers. But when the time came to give his own remarks, he did not feel strong enough to deliver them. He asked his second counselor, Thomas S. Monson, to read what he had prepared for the occasion.
Over the past couple of years, the prophet had spoken directly to different groups in the Church: young women and young men, mothers and fathers, single adult women and single adult men. Now he wanted to speak to children.
“How I love you!” his talk began. “How our Heavenly Father loves you!”
At the time, more than 1.2 million children belonged to the Church’s Primary organization. In 1988, Primary general president Dwan J. Young and her board had chosen a phrase from the Book of Mormon, “Come unto Christ,” as its theme for the year. President Young and her board had also invited the children to learn about the Book of Mormon.
President Benson was thrilled that children everywhere had accepted the invitation. At home evenings and in Primary, they were singing about the Book of Mormon, acting out its stories, and playing games that taught its messages. Some children were even earning money to purchase copies of the Book of Mormon that would be given out around the world.
In his message, President Benson urged the children to pray to Heavenly Father every day. “Thank Him for sending our oldest brother, Jesus Christ, into the world. He made it possible for us to return to our heavenly home.”
President Benson had spoken many times during his ministry about the Atonement of Jesus Christ. In recent years, he had also drawn on the Book of Mormon to emphasize aspects of Christ’s mission familiar to other Christians. A new Primary songbook, which would soon be available to the Saints, reinforced these messages. The Children’s Songbook had a new section titled “The Savior” and included many more songs about Jesus than its predecessor, Sing with Me.
Again and again, President Benson had invited the Saints to become converted to Christ and draw upon His saving grace. “By His grace,” the prophet taught, “we receive the strength to do the works necessary that we otherwise could not do by our own power.”
At the same time, he encouraged the Saints to live righteously. In his talk to children, he urged them to have the courage to stand up for their beliefs. He also warned them that Satan would seek to tempt them.
“He has captured the hearts of wicked men and women,” he said, “who would have you participate in bad things such as pornography, drugs, profanity, and immorality.” He urged children to avoid videos, movies, and television that were not good.
Near the end of his talk, President Benson sought to comfort children who lived in fear. In recent years, Church leaders had spoken out more against child abuse and neglect, and the Church had published guidelines to help local leaders assist victims.
“Even when it seems that no one else cares, your Heavenly Father does,” the prophet said. “He wants you to be protected and safe. If you are not, please talk to someone who can help you—a parent, a teacher, your bishop, or a friend.”
After President Monson sat down, the audience watched a prerecorded video of President Benson singing to a group of children gathered around his knee. Then the Tabernacle Choir sang “I Am a Child of God,” and a benediction closed the conference.