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—  “Elder” vs. “Brother”—  June 1978 —


During my last trip to the Hill Cumorah pageant, I became embroiled in a very unpleasant situation.  To this day, I am amazed at how immaturely I acted in this fiasco, but I certainly learned some valuable lessons.

During each of the first two years that I participated in the pageant, we Western bus elders that were returned missionaries were allowed to wear a name tag that had the title “Elder”, followed by our last name.  During my last year at the pageant, however, the full-time mission president who presided over the pageant decided we should have the title “Brother” rather than “Elder” on our name tags, so as to avoid confusing the bus elders with the full-time missionaries (who obviously had “Elder” on their tags).  Rather than humbly complying with the mission president’s wishes, we western elders became indignant and decided to make an issue out of this trivial matter.  First we requested new name tags with the title “Elder”, postulating that since we were returned missionaries and Elders in the Melchizedek Priesthood, we deserved the title on our name tags.  This request was denied, and our indignation deepened.  In a colossal display of arrogance, I imitated the lettering of the name tags and made several “Elder” stickers which we glued over the word “Brother” on our tags.  This pettiness soon bore bitter fruit, as all of us were personally reprimanded by the mission president and his assistants.  Our reprimand was well-deserved.  We removed the stickers from our name tags, being forced to accept the humble attitude that we should have possessed from the beginning.

Many times in my life I have witnessed myself and others in situations where simple obedience would have resulted in happiness and peace, but instead a path of resistance and defiance reaped sorrow and contention.  How pitiful it was that we forced a very busy mission president to spend some of his valuable time dealing with our impudence and disrespect rather than with the things of the Kingdom.  I wish I could say that this unfortunate Hill Cumorah experience was the last time I kicked against the pricks, but woefully, such is not the case.


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