Symbolism abounded.
The east side’s three towers represented the First Presidency. The twelve pinnacles rising from the towers implied the twelve apostles. The west side’s towers reflected the presiding bishops and the church’s high council. The east side was purposefully built six feet higher, so to make clear which was superior. Its castle-like battlements illustrated a separation from the world and a protection of the holy ordinances practiced within, a statement in stone that no one would destroy this mighty edifice, as had happened before that time to the temples in both Missouri and Illinois.
Atop each of the center towers were eyes, which represented God’s ability to see all things. The earth stones, moonstones, sun-stones, cloud stones, and star stones each told a story of the celestial kingdom and the promise of salvation. One of the early elders said it best when he proclaimed, Every stone is a sermon.
And Rowan agreed.
The Old Testament taught that temples were the houses of God. The church now owned 130 around the globe. This one anchored ten acres in the center of Salt Lake, the oval-shaped tabernacle building just behind, the old Assembly Hall nearby, two modern visitor centers nestled close. A massive conference center, which could accommodate more than 20,000, stood across the street.
Access inside any temple was restricted to those members who’d achieved “temple recommend.” To gain that status a Saint must believe in God the Father and Jesus as Savior. He must support the church and all of its teachings, including the law of chastity that mandates celibacy outside of marriage. He must be honest, never abuse his family, remain morally clean, and pay the required yearly tithe. He must also keep all of his solemn oaths and wear the temple garments, both night and day. Once granted by a bishop and a stake president, the recommend remained valid for two years before being reviewed.
To have a temple recommend was a blessing all Saints desired.
Rowan went through the temple at nineteen, when he served his mission. He’d kept a temple recommend ever since. Now he was the second-highest-ranking official in the church, perhaps only a few months away from becoming the next prophet.
“Where are we going?” he asked Snow.
The old man’s legs barely worked, but he made it inside the doors.
“There is something you must see.”
With each rise in the hierarchy, Rowan had become aware of more and more secret information. The church had always worked by compartmentalizing, information passed vertically and horizontally on a need-to-know basis. So it made sense that there were matters only the man at the top was privy to.
Two young temple workers waited at the base of a staircase. Usually just the retired served inside, but these two were special.
“Are we to change clothes?” he asked the prophet.
Normally only white garments were worn inside the temple.
“Not today. It’s just you and me.” Snow crept toward the two men and said, “I appreciate your help. I’m afraid my legs cannot make the climb.”
They both nodded, affection and respect in their eyes. No one outside of the apostles was allowed to witness their assistance. Snow settled into their intertwined arms, and they lifted his frail body from the pale blue carpet. Rowan followed them up the Victorian staircase, his hand sliding along on the polished cherry banister.
They ascended to the third floor and entered the council room.
White walls, white carpet, and a white ceiling cast a look of utter purity. Victorian lighting fixtures burned bright. Fifteen low-backed upholstered chairs dotted the carpet. Twelve were arranged in a semi-circle, facing toward the south wall, where three more faced back, lined in a row behind a simple desk.
The center of the three was for the prophet only.
Snow was settled into his chair and the two young men left, closing the door behind them.
“For us,” Snow said, “this is the most secure place on this planet. I feel most safe right here.”
So had Rowan, for a long time.
“What we are about to discuss none, save the next prophet after you, may know. It will be your duty to pass this on.”
They’d never before spoken of succession.
“You assume I will be chosen.”
“That has been our way for a long time. You are next in line. I doubt our colleagues will vary from tradition.”
The twelve chairs arranged in a semi-circle were for the apostles, Rowan’s designated spot at their center, facing the prophet, the desk symbolically between them. On either side of the prophet sat the two councilors of the First Presidency. He’d already been giving thought as to who he would select to flank him when it came his time to lead.
“Look around, Thaddeus,” Snow said, voice cracking. “The prophets watch over us. Each is anxious to see how you will react to what you are about to hear.”