There's a Little 'Jack' in All of Us

I shared this thought at a Public Affairs Department devotional today: 

In the Sermon on the Mount, Jesus said, “Judge not unrighteously, that ye be not judged; but judge righteous judgment.” In the gospel of John, Jesus said, “Judge not according to your traditions, but judge righteous judgment.”

In a book titled, “Jack-Mormons: Blessings or Challenges?” my great uncle, Sherm Hislop, shares a redeeming story about his father and my great-grandfather, Henry Hislop. [Jack Mormon is a descriptor we don’t use much anymore, so I looked it up. It has two definitions—a sympathetic non-Mormon living among Mormons or a non-observant Mormon who is friendly toward the Church; this book describes the latter]

In May 1959, about a year after his wife died, Henry had a series of notable spiritual experiences.

Henry Hislop (1881-1959)

Mabel, his dedicated companion of 53 years, visited him several times after his nightly prayers and told him he needed to go through the temple so they and their 12 children could be sealed together.

Henry was a rugged, hardworking sheepherder from Huntsville who showed little emotion. His inner spirituality and trust in God were often concealed by the crusty exterior of a man reared in the mountains and who educated his children through the fear of his brown leather razor strap.  

“I have never felt worthy to go do the temple,” Henry told his son Sherm. “The temple is the Lord’s house. Only good people should go to the temple.”

Yet Mabel’s post-mortal visits were persuasive enough to change his mind. 

“Your mother often prayed we might be sealed together. She wanted us to be a family forever. Over the years I occasionally promised I would get squared away and go to the temple. [But it never happened]. … [When she visited me] She said I could not die until I went through the temple and we were sealed. … I must go to the temple.”

On July 21, 1959, Henry entered the Logan Temple for the first time with two sons and a daughter-in-law. His frame was slender, his hair thinning and flecked with gray. By closely observing the lines in his face, the texture of the skin on his hands, and the somewhat gaunt body, one could tell Henry was at or approaching 80 years. There was a slight stoop to his shoulders, yet he held his head erect. This was his first time in a temple, obvious as he continually scanned the temple’s exterior and interior. Had Henry been an artist, he could have sketched the temple in great detail from his observations.

Henry completed the forms peculiar to one’s initial coming to a temple. He received a special ID tag, and then, walking with his son, Que, he moved toward the hallway leading to the dressing rooms.

Then Henry felt a hand on his shoulder.

“Henry…Henry Hislop, is that really you?” an incredulous voice asked.

Henry made his usual age-defying, quick, non-rhythmic movement in turning to look at the questioner. He beheld a white-haired man with a stoop to his shoulders. His face had the lines of many years and his voice was slow and hesitant. His white suit identified him as a temple worker.

“It’s me,” Henry answered as he surveyed the man for a long moment. The he said, “Angus, it has been a long time.”

They grabbed one another and shook hands in the vigorous gesture so typical of those raised in the mountain west. 

Henry with Sherm Hislop, one of his 10 sons.

“Henry, do you…” Angus paused. “Do you come here often?”

“No, this is the first time,” Henry quickly replied. “The Lord sent word I had to come before I died, and at my age that meant hurry.”

“Well, it’s good to see you,” Angus said, but his voice lacked conviction.

This rude tone didn’t seem to bother Henry. “It’s good to see you, Angus,” he said.

With an exchange of additional pleasantries, Henry and his son continued toward the dressing room.

Angus turned to a fellow temple worker, saying, “I never would have believed it, and in fact I’m not sure I believe it even now.”

“Believe what?” his fellow worker responded.

“To meet that man in the temple,” Angus said. It was an emphatic statement that almost sounded like a question. Angus was shaking his head in amazement.

“He was the most Jack Mormon I ever knew,” Angus said. “To see him here in the temple is hard to believe.”

“What is hard to believe?” asked a third man walking up to the temple workers.

“President,” answered Angus, “I just saw a man who was the epitome of a Jack Mormon go down the hall. It is most unbelievable.”

“Brother Angus,” the temple President said forcibly, “it would appear you are placing yourself in the role for which you have not been appointed—that of a judge. Angus, do a little repenting and leave the judging to those ordained to do so.”

Angus offered a feeble apology, then moved down the hallway.

Henry’s younger son, Sherm, had completed his temple processing at a nearby desk. He had overheard most of the conversation and stepped up to the president.

“Thanks, President,” Sherm said. “There is no need to defend that Jack Mormon. To those of us who know and love him, he has been an honorable father, grandfather, and husband. We know he has loved God, honored the Church, and revered the temple as few men ever have.”

Sherm paused, then said, “My father is here because he believes the Lord wants him to come here before he dies.”

The president reached out and touched his arm. “There was a time when I could have been identified as a Jack Mormon,” the President said.

Their eyes met for a long moment, then Sherm smiled and said, “I understand. There is or has been a little ‘Jack’ in most of us.”

This story from the life of my great-grandfather reminds me that I need to give everyone I know, including myself, room to grow, space to make mistakes and the potential to change. Elder Bednar said that “everything about the gospel of Christ is about not staying the same,” and that we can’t “insist on doing things the way [we’ve] always done them and expect to progress.”

We all share the common experience of mortality, and yet our individual journeys and abilities are unique. And so we must judge with care and with mercy because what we now give will sooner or later boomerang back to us. We reap what we sow. “Blessed are the merciful, for they shall obtain mercy.” 

With the assistance of the Holy Ghost and wisdom of life experience we can make righteous judgments and give out forgiveness and mercy as often as we need to. In the name of Jesus Christ, amen.

Sammy and Lucy at a Hislop family monument in the Huntsville Utah Cemetery, September 14, 2013.
Lucy's middle name, Mabel, is the first name of Henry Hislop's wife.