
In one of my memories of Primary, I’m around ten years old sitting in a square, windowless classroom. The teacher, Brother L, gestures with his hands in front of the brown chalkboard like he’s a Marvel superhero wielding magic.
“You young men,” he says, “will one day create earths! You’ll take matter from this and matter from that and fuse them together. You’ll have unlimited priesthood power to manipulate elements and build earths!”
I raised my hand. “What will girls get to do?”
Brother L thought about it for a moment, then said carefully, “Earths need flowers. Girls will come up with pretty things and their husbands will make it.”
Boys get all cosmic power but girls get to make eternal pinterest boards for pretty flowers. Sounds about right.
This was far from my last encounter with Mormon men and their subtle power-obsession.
As a young adult, I attended a local fireside with Elder Bednar. At the end of the Q&A meeting, we all stood as we usually would after a church meeting. A huge stake center full of 18-30 year olds did what 18-30 years olds did–we chatted. Gathered our things. Made after meeting dinner plans.
Suddenly, Elder Bednar stood and the organ postlude music cut off. He grabbed the microphone and spoke in an angry voice I’ll never forget.
“How dare you. How dare you all stand and be so noisy after an apostle of the Lord has just spoken with you and left you with his apostolic blessing.”
We were rebuked into immediate silence. He then directed us to sit back down. We rose again after he stood and filed into a quiet line to walk up to the podium and shake his hand before exiting out the back door. You could have heard a pin drop in that chapel. I’ll never forget shaking his hand and feeling a strange sense of disappointment and coldness.
Bednar clearly felt that his status and authority warranted our silence to show respect. He didn’t hesitate to wield his church-given power to admonish us for what he deemed irreverence and for daring to stand before he did. (And I’ve heard through the internet grapevine that this is a typical move for him when members or even his own wife stand before him.)
Through actions and lessons like these over a lifetime, I’ve realized that these are not isolated incidents.

In the 1840s in Nauvoo, Joseph Smith expanded not only his theology, but his kingdom. This was arguably his most fruitful period of religious and political creation. The temple ceremony, plural marriage, revelations, the Nauvoo Legion, running for president––Joseph was busy. After years of being chased from state to state, losing everything, and facing threats on his people and his person, I believe Joseph saw Nauvoo has his redemption.
The new temple rites initiated his inner circle into his loyal court. Plural marriage gave him power over families and women who would bear him posterity. The Nauvoo Legion appointed him a Lieutenant-General, the highest rank possible, held only by George Washington. The Council of Fifty declared him king of the world. Joseph even ran for president in 1844, which they believed would lead to a political kingdom of God.
It makes sense to me that after over a decade of running from the law and mobs that Joseph and many early Saints would crave some power and control over their turbulent lives. I think this was a huge motivation for his actions in Nauvoo, particularly the temple rite. Joseph’s trauma over losing and desiring so much is the bedrock for our dogmas.
At the heart of the Mormon temple rite, both then and today, is a quest for power. It’s a desire for certainty not only in personal and familial salvation, but also proof that we will ultimately triumph over earthly enemies and partake in God’s enormous power ourselves.
It’s about obtaining promises of kingdoms, thrones, powers, dominions, and principalities. It’s about becoming gods and goddesses. It’s about building new worlds and creating never-ending posterity. It’s about ruling and reigning over the house of Israel.
In short, it’s about Joseph finally getting to best the enemies and mobs that took everything from him and the Saints. It’s about men like Bednar feeling secure in their priesthood authority and control over others. It’s men like Brother L building whatever they want with their awesome power.
I’ve heard countless men in the church in both small and big ways declare their thirst for eternal power: temple sealers who go on about the promises of principalities and thrones in the sealing ceremony; bishops at the pulpit preaching about the majesty of becoming gods; Sunday school teachers lecturing on the powers of the priesthood like they’re magic.
It’s interesting to me that I’ve never once heard a woman in the church talk about getting kingdoms, thrones, and dominions like men do. I’ve never heard them wax on about bringing matter together to create a world or gleefully envisioning ruling and reigning forever. When women speak of eternal blessings, they speak of family relationships and eternal love, not kingdoms or godhood.
I don’t think that’s a coincidence. I’m not saying all Mormon men are power-hungry, but I do think that hunger is written into the DNA of our doctrine and taught to our men as acceptable. I don’t think most women engage with the Mormon power narrative in the same way because it was never designed for them.
And when I really sit back and think about it, I wouldn’t even want Joseph’s definitions of power if it was offered to me as a woman.
I don’t want the priesthood man’s ideal of eternal blessings. I don’t want kingdoms, thrones, or dominions. I have no desire to spend eternity ruling and reigning over anyone. I don’t want principalities or the ability to create earths. I’ve no interest in greatness and glory, powers and priesthoods, worlds without end.
I want to spend eternity with everyone, living equally side by side. I envision a world of beauty and personal creation that has nothing to do with superhero-like priesthood powers. I see myself in a small cottage where I love all for who they are, where we work and cry and share together. There are no kingdoms to rule or thrones to sit on. No priesthood men to build the cosmos while I design flowers. There is no hierarchy of leaders that demands my respect without earning it.
Instead, we are all sitting down in the kingdom of God together, as one.
If the Celestial Kingdom is Joseph’s fever dream of ambition and power, then maybe I don’t want it. I don’t want Bednar’s stern rules or Brother L’s small vision of creation. Instead, I set my hopes and faith on a truly equal eternity where there are no titles, no hierarchies, no separations; only Christ-like love.
21 Responses
This is such a powerful and lucid piece of writing! Wow. I agree with your perspective of the psychological context for Joseph’s vision and wants for eternity, and about their troubling nature. A friend of mine had a dream in which her grandmother visited her from the spirit world. She told her that so many things were done differently in the afterlife than in the church, esp. the fact that there is no hierarchy! I loved that. I like to think of the afterlife as a time to fulfill our desires to learn, love, and be human. And a time when those who didn’t have love, happiness, health, or their needs met during life will be fully embraced and receive these things as we minister to them.
Elder Bednar’s actions her are so startling and shaming. Sometimes these dudes come across as so benign but they have this other shadow side that is dark and unloving.
That dream sounds amazing and so beautiful! It’s just what I hope for too.
After studying Joseph Smith, I truly feel like most of his revelations and religious creations were the result of his personal or family trauma. The death of Alvin especially. I see Joseph as the boy described in his first account of the first vision, just worried about the state of his own soul and salvation. He wanted so badly–like so many of us too do–to be able to hold onto to something that would say “yes, here is proof that you are saved and that you will triumph.” One of the reasons I personally struggle with temple rites is feeling that they lack honest faith and trust in God. Instead, they “force” God to save us through handshakes, covenants, and ritual. I can see from Joseph’s life why that would be so appealing.
I personally think that Joseph always believed that he was “special” and as such deserved special treatment and recognition for it. Look at his life in Nauvoo. He was not only the head of the church he was also the chief Justice of the Peace, Mayor, head of the planning commission, head of the Quorum of the Anointed, Council of Fifty, Postmaster, chief of the Masonic lodge, editor of the main newspaper, etc, etc, etc. He refused to share power with even his closest friends. The few who tried, or who he originally gave equal power in temporal things he ended up trying to ruin their reputations and excommunicated them. If that’s not a pathological need for power I don’t know what is!
I wish your story about elder Bednar was surprising, but it really isn’t. I’ve also been on the receiving end of a general authorities arrogance. It wasn’t an apostle, but instead a member of the area 70. Basically, while I was on my mission, someone from the area 70 came to a zone conference we had. Even before I met him I knew I didn’t like him because he made the request that everyone be seated and silent at least 30 minutes before the meeting started. He said that he wouldn’t walk into the building at all until we accomplished that and if anybody said even a single word, the 30 minutes would start over. During the meeting, he keep reinforcing the idea that “when an area 70 says to do something, you have to do it”.
He also told us that if we wasted literally any time not doing missionary work, then we were mocking God. As we were finishing up lunch, he counted down from 30 seconds as he watched us scramble to clean up everything, then chastised us because our lunch extended a few seconds past our allotted time.
After the conference, many of the male missionaries in leadership positions were inspired by the things he talked about and preceded to implement his style of “leadership”. I’m still not sure how any of his actions or those of the other missionaries fell under the idea of “gentleness, meekness, and love unfeigned”.
Anyways, later he ended up speaking in general conference and I couldn’t watch his talk. I completely lost respect for him.
Wow. That is a blatant abuse of power and not at all Christ-like! I’m sorry that happened to you. I wish we could be louder about these things and call bad men out.
The promise of kingdoms, thrones, dominions, powers, and worlds without end has always appealed to me! Then again, I read the Pearl of Great Price nine or ten times as a teenager, was handed the King Follett discourse when I was fourteen, and am young enough that I don’t remember 9/11 (meaning that I grew up in a world where gender equality is expected). I didn’t realize none of that was actually promised to me until I went to the temple in 2019 and realized that the liturgical remnants of polygamy subtly place my husband between me and God. The bait-and-switch still stings.
I’m also self-aware enough to recognize that I crave power and recognition and thus shouldn’t be trusted to wield it. My skills are better suited to analyzing power and serving as a supporting player with limited authority (I work in contracts, and that’s a great fit for me – lots to research and evaluate and interpret, I have authority over signing contracts and making sure NDAs are executed, but I’m not leading the execution of the contract!). And I’ve come kicking and screaming to the realization that my patriarchal blessing is correct that the things that will provide the greatest joy and value in my life are my family and my creative endeavors. Yet I have to wonder if I’ve only been able to discover the power and holiness in small, simple, intentional living because the thrones, dominions, principalities, etc were never promised to me in the first place. Can boys and men evaluate their skills and temperaments and become comfortable as a supporting player when they’ve been explicitly promised endless opportunity from their childhood? I’m not sure.
Thank you for sharing this! I appreciate your honesty and I don’t think there’s anything wrong with recognizing your talents and abilities, and the desire for leadership. I too see those things in myself. I also agree that this conversation would be very different if we as women were promised any of it at all.
This resonates with me so much! A little more than 15 years ago, I had the realization that I was not looking for the afterlife promised to me in the temple. It never appealed to me. I’m not interested in ruling over anyone. The language in the temple was definitely written by and for men. For a lay church, our obsession with hierarchy is really puzzling. I cringe every time I’m in a meeting and the person presiding is announced. Who cares? Why should it make any difference to me? Why are we teaching our children from the youngest ages that someone in our meeting is the MOST important? Our deacons are asked to decipher who is ranked highest on the stand and offer the sacrament to him first.
Thank you for articulating what I’ve been trying to put my finger on for years – it’s not equal power and status I am looking for in the church, it’s that I don’t think power and status should have any place in my ideal community on earth or in heaven.
Beautifully said. What a great conversation!
A couple of years ago I told my husband I didn’t look forward to the temple-promised eternity at all because I was essentially promised nothing but a husband. It blew his mind (in a good way). We discussed it at length and he realized that as a man he had never once considered this and had honestly viewed eternity as a continuation of basically his like now (with natural power). He was shocked to realize that the temple actually granted me less power and abilities than I currently have on earth. Watching him deconstruct that for the following weeks was very interesting. He’s one of the good ones, honestly looking to improve and be a better feminist, but I don’t think the average male church members realizes how much of their world caters just to them.
Wow, this is a really striking experience. I didn’t ever think abt the huge difference in what is promised men vs women in the temple.
Thank you so much for writing this. I attended a fireside with Elder Bednar where he specifically told us to be quiet while we waited in line to shake his hand and he compared the opportunity to when Jesus ministered one by one – it left me with a really icky feeling devoid of the Spirit.
I’m sorry you had that experience too. Meeting an apostle is great and all, but it’s not at all like meeting Jesus! I recently saw a TikTok of a young women describing a very horrible experience with Bednar at a recent fireside. The comment section sadly confirmed that this has happened many times.
I feel like Jesus would be okay with a little chit chat. Silence = reverence is so weird. If Jesus really knows me and can minister to my needs then he would know I’m a human who wants actual connection with people.
The idea that the church should be there to let you get this eternal life in a heaven just isn’t selling. People are not joining to buy into this dream. If we want to have a relevant church for my grandkids, things have to change. Don’t worry, the church has changed before.
Exactly, what I care abt is the here and now and my kids’ needs to flourish, the primary focus on the temple as a gateway to the afterlife is not helping my family. I also hope things will evolve to be better
My current understanding of the CK feels like the biggest pyramid scheme and like a shiny, pretty hell for women. I sincerely for Heaven to be an opportunity to create, learn, grow, connect with loving people, and to have opportunities to flourish. Why would I want dominion over other souls that are supposed to be my equal? Including my own children?
This has been something that has bothered me, as well. Everything started with a horizontal power structure in the pre-mortal existence: brothers and sisters on equal footing. Then, we were born into a mortal hierarchy. Above us: our parents, grandparents and so on, not to mention bishops, stake presidents….all the way up to the First Presidency. How is this progress? In my mind it would be the opposite: starting in a hierarchy and moving to a horizontal power structure in much the same way that our children become our peers as they grow up.
I agree that men in the church (and the world in general) have been raised to expect and desire power and domination. I also see how strongly women have been taught NOT to aspire to leadership. If you asked most LDS women if women should be given the priesthood and its accompanying authority, their response is most likely to be “Heavens no! I don’t want that kind of responsibility!” Yes, most of us desire life to be focused on building strong relationships, but it’s so important to emphasize how much we need women in leadership! Our girls need to know their voice is needed and the work they contribute is vital. Most women are better leaders than most men already, because their social skills are so much better, but they just aren’t recognized for it.
True leadership is focused on helping others, not on elevation of self or seeking for dominion or control. Good leadership is key to building a strong society. The problem is that the church claims to teach men to be leaders when it really teaches them to seek power. Scripture professes men should avoid unrighteous dominion and seeking the glory of men, while also placing them on a pedestal of glory that likens them to gods and promises them “thrones, dominions, and powers”. Where exactly is the line between righteous and unrighteous dominion?
This is so so true! Great points! I don’t think the church models good leadership or narratives on power, and it never empowers women to be real leaders. Sometimes people have tried to challenge me on my stances and said things like “who would want to be a bishop?!” And I’ve started being honest that I would. I know I have good ideas and leadership skills that are being underutilized.
Yup – not interested in that kind of afterlife. You nailed it!
Last year Bednar came to our region and spoke in our Stake Conference. I’d heard many accounts of his behaviour before so there was no way I was going and putting up with that. We were able to watch online and his talk was actually better than I had expected – even some humour. I’m still glad I wasn’t there but need to ask others about the standing to attention you hear about. The last Stake Conference I attended was a Saturday evening session before covid and we had a visiting 70. His presentation was hugely embarrassing, singling out people from the congregation, and asked us close to the end to share something with the person to our right. Can’t remember what it was now but there was no way. I got up and went to the bathroom and didn’t go back.