The Dead Man Obeyed

'The Dead Man Obeyed'
A Spooky But True Mormon Story

Do you enjoy a scary story every now and again? I know I do.

Especially when the stories are 'true.'

Like this one.

And what better story to tell for October as we gear up for Halloween. (Cont'd)



To set the stage for our spooky story, we have to understand that it's a different Latter-day Saint church than it used to be.

In early Mormonism, the gifts of the Spirit abounded. It seemed like everybody could see angels, speak in tongues (true tongues... a la Adamic language), be overcome by the Spirit so as to do flips in the Kirtland temple, and possess such priesthood power as to cast out evil spirits from your friends, who were constantly fighting those evil spirits to stay physically healthy.

Women could give blessings by the laying on of hands just as easily as the men. It wasn't uncommon in early Mormonism. Of course you don't see these types of things now. It's practically unheard of.

Individual members don't break out into song during sacrament meeting, singing in the Adamic language like they used to. Probably because there aren't other members who can interpret those tongues like they used to.

And folks aren't raising men from the dead...

...like they used to.

It was a dark and spooky night. A night that came during early Mormonism's era of spiritual signs and powers. The kinds of powers that require an adequate amount of faith, especially if you're going to call a dead corpse back to life.

It was this kind of faith that Zina Baker Huntington hoped to possess. She had faith enough for speaking and singing in tongues, blessings by the laying on of hands, etc.

But tonight wouldn't be a night for speaking the angelic dialect of the Adamic language. No, no. Tonight would be different. Tonight would haunt her for the rest of her mortal life.

To her children, she gave them but one requirement for hearing this spooky tale. It's the same oath I require from all the readers who dare continue reading.

'Tell nobody of what I tell you, for they will only make fun of it and ridicule you for believing it.' - Zina Baker Huntington to her children.

Yes, tonight would leave its mark on Zina. She had been asked to sit up with the dead body of a neighbor.

There, in the dark, Zina was alone with the corpse.

The aroma of death was soft. Subtle. It was the smell that only a recently deceased body could provide. Almost cold to the nostrils when inhaled.

The darkness undoubtedly required light by candle. The flickering of the light would flash its reflection on the cloth covering the corpse's motionless body.

Oh, that body. That cold, stiff, lifeless body. Remarkably peaceful and quiet. Her cold companion for the evening.

Spending all night with a body under these circumstances can really only help the mind to think about the curious. It was this kind of curiosity that peaked Zina's inquiring mind.

Zina believed the remarkable. The gifts of the Spirit were very real to her. She very much believed that if she had faith enough, she could emulate the New Testament gifts of the Spirit that were now restored in early Mormonism.

It was just this kind of belief that would amplify her curiosity towards her motionless companion in the room.

Zina couldn't help but wonder, 'If the gifts of the gospel really are restored, perhaps I could... no... that would be too outlandish... calling this man back to life from the dead.'

Even still, this neighbor, it was said, died before his time. Had he not died, he would still have some life and usefulness in him, according to those that knew him. It was a tragedy to lose a life when there was more life to be had.

Nonetheless, there he lay.... his cold, stiff, lifeless body.

And there sat Zina, dutifully keeping watch over that man's corpse, and still pondering the possibility that if she had faith enough, she could lay her hands upon the body... this man's motionless body with no breath, no pulse of a beating heart, with skin already cool to the touch... and bring it back to life.

Faith, she had. She was no stranger to giving blessings by the laying on of hands with her female peers, just like her male counterparts.

But she'd never participated in any kind of laying on of hands that would bring a pulse to the pulseless... warmth to the now cold flesh... breath to empty lungs.

But still, faith she had.

She slowly approached the corpse. Undoubtedly, she rehearsed over and over in her head what she would say to command the corpse to life. She gently lifted the sheet from the face of the body. Perhaps her hand brushed accidentally over the skin so as to feel how cool the flesh had become since the moment of death.

Then, with all of the confidence she could muster, she commanded the dead corpse to come alive.

The dead man obeyed, opening his eyes full wide. His pupils found hers and locked in with a hallow gaze.

They say that the eye is the window to the soul. That they communicate what words can never say. But these eyes weren't inviting. They weren't thankful to be opened from their deathly slumber. Else why would Zina react with such terror?

Adrenaline pumped through Zina's veins as fear overcame her. She threw back the sheet over his face and ran from the room.

His body remained motionless as it had before, under the cloth.

'Please be dead. Please be dead. Please be dead.' she must have whispered as she approached the corpse anew.

And dead he was.

And dead he remained for the rest of the evening.

In telling this story to her children, she made it a point to note that while she had the faith to raise men from the dead, as the apostles of old possessed, that God didn't intend for this man to rise from the dead. In this case, God only permitted as much as was expedient to show that 'signs do follow them that believe.'

Zina would explain that the Lord took away her strength of mind just as the corpse opened his eyes, as though it was a matter of mind over matter, hinting that perhaps were she to have kept her strength of mind the man would have remained alive.

And thus her spooky Mormon story became a faith-promoting story for her children, and would later be published by her son, Oliver, in the Young Women’s Journal 1895 vol. 6 pg. 376-381.

Zina Baker Huntington was a plural and polyandrous wife to Joseph Smith and Brigham Young.

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Okay, okay. Here's the official version as told by Zina's son, Oliver. Notice that it's not quite as scary as my version. This story was also referenced in Compton's In Sacred Loneliness, p 75, but the full story is much more entertaining. Enjoy.
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...one of our neighbors died, a man of usefulness in the neighborhood. Mother was called to sit up with the corpse, and during the night she was left alone int he room with the corpse, and was studying upon the power, faith and the possibility of the dead being brought back to life now as well as in the days of the apostles. She believed with all her heart it could be done, and she believed that that good man could be brought back to usefulness by the power of faith. She felt that faith in her, and stepping to the corpse turned down the cloth that covered his face and called him to come to life.

The dead man obeyed, and opened his eyes full wide and gazed into hers. The scene was too much for her mortality. She threw back the cloth and left the room, and that inanimate flesh remained as it was.

This is a very strange tale to relate with the expectation of having it gain credence; yet I expect to gain the confidence of my readers when I tell them that my mother told us children of the incident as related, assuring us that the same faith existed in this Church that we read of in the Church of Christ anciently. Then she explained to us the reason why the man did not get up and remain alive. She said that she had the faith to raise the dead, but it was not expedient, and that God permitted it just so far to show her that 'these signs do follow them that believe,' also that the Lord took away her strength of mind just then when he opened his eyes. She then added to us children, 'Tell nobody of what I tell you, for they will only make fun of it and ridicule you for believing it.'

We faithfully kept her requirement to tell no one, and never talked it over among ourselves even for many, many years. Who does not believe fully that no mother would relate such an event to her children as she did if it were not true? - Oliver B. Huntington (Young Women’s Journal 1895 vol. 6 pg. 376-381.)