Stolen Innocence - Lisa Pulitzer [102]
On Sunday, September 8, I walked with my mother into the meetinghouse for church. Upon our arrival, I noticed that the rows of chairs where Rulon’s wives usually sat were empty. Immediately I sensed that something was wrong, and my suspicion only grew when I noticed that Uncle Warren’s family was also absent from their seats just behind the prophet’s family. Sitting with my mother and sisters in our usual spot, I overheard whispers that Uncle Rulon had been taken to the hospital.
The meeting began with Uncle Fred presiding. He stood at the pulpit and solemnly informed the congregation that the prophet was very ill and had been rushed to the hospital. Everything proceeded as usual with the opening prayer and each and every member exerting faith for the prophet’s renewal. Several minutes into the meeting, Uncle Warren’s voice boomed over the PA system. He was calling from the hospital, where he was holding vigil by his father’s bedside. “The prophet has had surgery,” Warren reported in his usual monotone. “He is doing fine.”
An eerie silence fell over the room as we all prayed to God on Uncle Rulon’s behalf. About forty-five minutes passed before Uncle Warren came over the speakers with a second, devastating announcement. “The prophet has passed away,” he related in a somber tone. “Say your prayers.”
A solemn hush blanketed the meeting hall. I sat waiting for Uncle Warren to call back to tell us that God had performed a miracle and Uncle Rulon had been renewed. But the service ended, and in bewilderment, I followed the rest of the members out of the church.
Shortly after Rulon’s death, Warren informed us that the prophet’s renewal would now be much like that of Jesus Christ, except that Uncle Rulon would stay among us mortals as our leader. While we all expected that Uncle Rulon would soon reappear in his renewed form, the church began planning his funeral, to be held on September 12. The people tried to understand God’s design in taking the prophet in death. The only way we could find comfort was to have enough faith that we would witness a great miracle.
On the day of Uncle Rulon’s funeral, the program informed us that the prophet was presiding over his own service and remained the highest priesthood authority in attendance. Warren consoled us by saying that his father was “in the next room” and could hear and see all that was unfolding. To members of the FLDS, the term “in the next room” means that a person has crossed the thin veil into the spirit world. Uncle Warren, as the prophet’s ordained first counselor, was there simply to administer his father’s will. As the organ played, my eyes traveled to the casket in the center of the room. The prophet was inside, and I was afraid he had no way out.
During the viewing, I had kept waiting for him to sit up and address the people. I would later learn that I wasn’t alone in that misguided belief that day. But no one dared to say anything; we just waited as we’d been instructed. We looked on through our tears as the prophet’s wives sang him one last song: “He Has Been Renewed.” Reading ahead in the program, I noticed that Uncle Warren would be speaking soon. He had listed himself as “Elder Warren S. Jeffs for President Rulon T. Jeffs.” Remembering that moment now, I see clearly that he was silently assuming the prophet’s position by designating himself the continued spokesperson of his father.
Looking up, I saw that Uncle Warren was no longer at the podium. His brother Isaac had begun delivering the benediction. As the service drew to a close, everyone was on pins and needles waiting to see what would happen. We’d all had our chance to pay our respects to the prophet, but now the coffin was