“The inclusion of Black people in the church was as much the product of human agency as it was divine revelation”
—Mathew Harris
I will be 65 this Fall. I grew up in The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints being taught that interracial marriage was taboo, that those of Black African descent carried negative baggage from their premortal life, and/or they bore the black mark of Cain and therefore, the curse of Cain. This meant that they were not worthy to hold any level of priesthood. They could not enjoy the full blessings of the gospel by participating in the priesthood—including being sealed to loved ones in the temple. These teachings were not unusual—they were prevalent. Too many people still believe in these narratives. I believed them at the time. Even when the ban was lifted two years before I left for my mission, I thought very little of the subject. I had almost no contact with people of color growing up in the rural towns of Oregon and Utah.
My parents were converts to The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints. They were low-income, high-service saints to the church and the larger community. I never saw them treat anyone unkindly or disrespectfully. I can say the same for most who led or taught me within the Church.
After my mission, I lived in more liberal neighborhoods, and working in my profession and church with thoughtful, historically well-read folk, I became better informed concerning the origins of those priesthood and temple ban narratives. Before the church in 2013 put an explanatory essay about Race and the Priesthood on their website, I had learned much of that information. And yet there is so much more to the story. Recently, I learned many significant details illuminating how the priesthood ban originated, why it remained in place for so long, and how and why it was lifted. In addition, the harm the ban caused, and some lesser-known heroes who played critical roles along the way.
Through historical analysis of meeting minutes, records, and diaries—many previously unavailable—one sees much more clearly how the leadership of the church operates and how revelatory change occurs. Or doesn’t occur.
All this is a long introduction to highlight Black History Month and to recommend a book that I will soon be reading. And a podcast series that I recently finished that covers the book in great depth.
The book is Second-Class Saints: Black Mormons and the Struggle for Racial Equality by acclaimed historian, Matthew Harris. It is also sold at Deseret Book, Oxford University Press, and of course, Amazon. Patrick Q. Mason, Arrington Chair Of Mormon History And Culture at Utah State University said: “Second-Class Saints is a tour de force of historical research. It would be hard for me to overstate the importance of this book as well as my admiration for it.” Ryan Ward, from the Association for Mormon Letters declared: “Second-Class Saints by Matthew Harris should, if grappled with appropriately, force a reckoning… It will be impossible for anyone who reads it to be unaffected by what it clearly and irrefutably shows about the history of the priesthood and temple ban.”
The podcast is of the same name. Author Mattew Harris is interviewed by John Dehlin, and each episode covers a chapter, except for episode 8, which I recommend skipping. It is a lengthy series but deeply engaging and thought-provoking. Many have an understandably negative reaction to John and his Mormon Stories podcast. In this series of interviews, I found him even-handed and asking important and reasonable questions. He also doesn’t editorialize a lot, giving Matt as much time as needed to recount the story and respond to questions.
If you prefer a much briefer overview of the book and this history, I recommend a recent interview with Matt by my friend Richard Ostler, on Listen, Learn, and Love. Just know that you will miss many valuable and engaging details.
Second-Class Saints is one of the most important books I’ve read about Mormon history and the revelatory process. A process that is so much more complex, rich, and fraught than even I realized.
