The Dead Can Wait. The Living Cannot- Download Link 

THE DEAD CAN WAIT. THE LIVING CANNOT.

An Open Letter to the Leadership of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints

By Brad Hess

I have a question for the leadership of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. What if the greatest opportunity you have to serve God's children isn't inside a temple? What if it's sitting in a foster home tonight, frightened, confused, and wondering whether anyone in the world is looking out for them? What if it's a child going to bed hungry, a teenager suffering abuse, or a young person growing up without a single dependable adult in their corner?

And what if, according to your own theology, the work you're doing for the dead could wait? I am asking the leadership of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints to consider something extraordinary: A ten-year moratorium on routine proxy temple ordinances for the dead, accompanied by a substantial redirection of the Church's institutional resources, volunteer hours, and organizational efforts toward alleviating suffering among the living. Not because I believe temple work is meaningless to faithful members. Not because I believe the Church does nothing good.

And not because I am asking anyone to abandon their religious convictions. I am asking because there is a fundamental moral difference between work that can be completed in the future and suffering that must be addressed today.

The dead can wait. The living cannot.

I understand the importance of temple work

I grew up immersed in Mormon culture. I understand the importance placed on genealogy, temple attendance, and performing sacred ordinances for deceased ancestors. I've participated in that work myself. I remember walking through cemeteries with my mother, searching headstones for dates and information about deceased relatives. We were gathering the details necessary to document our family history and complete temple ordinances. I understand the dedication involved. I understand the satisfaction of believing you're doing something meaningful for someone you love. I also understand that temple worship is far more than an activity to faithful members. It is a sacred responsibility, an expression of devotion, and an important part of their relationship with God.

I am not questioning the sincerity of that devotion. But I've come to question whether believing we are doing something good is sufficient justification for how we prioritize our time. More importantly, I question whether an institution with the extraordinary resources and organizational capabilities of the LDS Church has a moral responsibility to reconsider those priorities. Because even when two activities are considered good, that does not mean they carry the same urgency.

And when our choices involve the suffering of vulnerable people, urgency matters.

The Church's own theology raises the question

The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints teaches that certain ordinances, including baptism, endowment, and sealing, are essential to receiving the highest blessings of eternal life. Because billions of people have lived and died without receiving those ordinances, the Church encourages faithful members to dedicate enormous amounts of time to researching family histories and performing ordinances by proxy. But there is another fundamental teaching of the Church. Jesus Christ will return to earth and reign for a thousand years during a period known as the Millennium.

During that time, according to Church teachings, temple and family history work will continue. Missing genealogical information will be discovered. Errors will be corrected. Ordinances that remain unfinished will have the opportunity to be completed. The Church's own Gospel Principles manual teaches that this work will continue during the Millennium because there is too much to accomplish before Christ's return. Think about the implications of that teaching. According to the Church's own beliefs, there is a future opportunity for this work to be accomplished. The dead will not be forgotten. The opportunity for necessary ordinances will not simply disappear because they were not completed during our lifetimes.

So why does the Church place such extraordinary urgency on completing that work today? I recognize that faithful members believe deceased loved ones may benefit from receiving these ordinances sooner. I recognize that they believe those ordinances may allow individuals in the spirit world to progress. That is a meaningful theological consideration. But it does not eliminate the moral question. If a deceased individual can receive an ordinance in the future, while a living child is suffering today, how should we determine which need deserves our immediate attention? Consider the difference.

A person who died two hundred years ago may, according to LDS theology, still have an opportunity to receive a saving ordinance during the Millennium. A child experiencing abuse tonight cannot wait for the Millennium to be protected. A child who is hungry today cannot eat tomorrow's dinner tonight. A child growing up without stability, safety, or love cannot recover the years of childhood that pass while we attend to other responsibilities. One need has a promised future opportunity within the Church's theology. The other may have no second chance. That distinction deserves serious moral consideration.

The enormous investment in the dead

Drive along Utah's Wasatch Front and look around. Beautiful temples stand prominently throughout our communities. More have been announced or are under construction. These buildings represent extraordinary investments of money, labor, and resources. But the investment extends far beyond the buildings themselves. Think about the countless hours members spend researching genealogical records, searching cemeteries, documenting family relationships, correcting historical information, preparing names, and performing temple ordinances. Think about the organizational infrastructure devoted to encouraging and supporting that work. Family history consultants. Temple and family history leaders. Ward and stake activities. Training programs. Dedicated facilities and resources. Think about the retired couples who spend substantial portions of their time serving in temples or working on genealogy.

Think about the families who devote evenings and weekends to researching ancestors and completing ordinances. The Church has created a remarkable system for mobilizing its members to serve people who have died. And I cannot help wondering what could be accomplished if that same organizational energy were directed toward people who are suffering today. I am not suggesting that temples should be eliminated. Living members still participate in ordinances central to their faith. Those practices could continue. Nor am I suggesting that every dollar spent on a temple could automatically be redirected to charitable work. Buildings, facilities, and institutional commitments involve different kinds of resources.

But there is an enormous amount of human effort and institutional attention specifically devoted to accelerating proxy ordinances for the deceased. Those resources are not unlimited. And every hour spent performing one activity is an hour that cannot simultaneously be spent doing something else. That is not a criticism of the people performing the work. It is simply the reality of how we allocate our lives.

If the Church believes Christ will provide a thousand years during which unfinished ordinances can be completed, why must so much of today's time, money, and human potential be committed to completing them now? Especially when the needs of the living are so immediate.

The children who cannot wait

Recently, a friend introduced me to a program I knew very little about. He grew up in the foster care system. During that experience, a Court Appointed Special Advocate, commonly known as a CASA volunteer, made a tremendous difference in his life. That experience affected him so deeply that he eventually became a CASA volunteer himself. His story inspired me to learn more. I signed up to become a CASA volunteer and began the training process.

And the more I learned, the more my heart broke. We live in one of the most prosperous societies in human history, yet children in our own communities experience abuse, neglect, instability, and separation from their families. These children did not choose their circumstances. They did not choose to be abused. They did not choose to be neglected. They did not choose to be removed from their homes. They are children living with the consequences of decisions and circumstances over which they had little or no control.

And many desperately need someone willing to stand up for them. That's what CASA volunteers do. They are trained community members who advocate for children involved in the child welfare system. They help ensure that children's needs are heard, important concerns are not overlooked, and the child's best interests remain central to decisions affecting their lives. These children are not asking for an extraordinary religious experience. They are asking, sometimes without even knowing how to express it, for someone to care. Someone to show up. Someone to listen. Someone to make sure they are not forgotten.

And unlike the deceased individuals whose ordinances are being performed in temples, these children cannot wait a thousand years for someone to help them. They have one childhood. And every day that passes is a day they will never get back.

What about the families who have lost loved ones?

After I first shared this proposal, a good friend named John offered a thoughtful response. John is a faithful Latter-day Saint and seminary teacher. He and his family experienced the unimaginable loss of a daughter far too young. He explained the significance that temple ordinances hold for his family and the importance of completing those ordinances for someone they love. His response deserves serious consideration. I cannot imagine the pain of losing a child, and I would never want to minimize the comfort that a grieving family may find in their religious beliefs. For John and his family, temple ordinances are not an abstract theological exercise. They are deeply personal. I respect that.

And his response helped me recognize that a ten-year moratorium need not be an absolute prohibition on every proxy ordinance. Reasonable exceptions could be established for recently deceased immediate family members. The purpose of this proposal is not to create additional suffering for grieving families. It is to reconsider the overwhelming institutional effort devoted to routine proxy ordinances for people who have been deceased for generations or centuries.

But John's objection also brings us directly to the moral question at the center of this letter. According to LDS theology, those who have died continue to exist in the spirit world. Their opportunity to receive necessary ordinances does not end because an ordinance is postponed. A faithful member may believe that completing the ordinance sooner allows a loved one to progress spiritually. I understand that belief.

But even accepting that theological premise, we must ask whether the urgency of that spiritual progression outweighs the immediate suffering of a living child. A child being abused tonight is not merely waiting to progress. That child may be experiencing harm that changes the course of their entire life. I do not believe these needs are morally equivalent in their urgency. Acknowledging that difference does not diminish the love John has for his daughter or the significance of his family's beliefs. It simply recognizes that the consequences of postponing these two kinds of service are profoundly different.

The Church already has a mission to serve the living

One of the most important aspects of this proposal is that it does not require the Church to invent a new religious purpose. It asks the Church to reconsider how it prioritizes responsibilities it already recognizes. President Spencer W. Kimball identified the Church's threefold mission: 1. Proclaim the gospel. 2. Perfect the Saints. 3. Redeem the dead. Later, under President Thomas S. Monson, caring for the poor and needy was explicitly recognized as a fourth responsibility. The Church's current teachings continue to emphasize caring for those in need alongside its responsibilities to preach the gospel, strengthen members, and unite families for eternity. These are not competing ideas introduced by critics of the Church.

They are responsibilities the Church itself recognizes. And I would argue that direct service to the living can accomplish more than one of these purposes simultaneously. Consider the responsibility to perfect the Saints. What better opportunity to develop compassion, humility, patience, generosity, and love than to serve someone who desperately needs help? A friend suggested that temple service helps members develop loving and generous hearts. I don't doubt that it can.

But wouldn't spending time advocating for an abused child develop those same qualities? Wouldn't helping a struggling family cultivate compassion? Wouldn't serving someone who has nothing to offer in return teach humility? Wouldn't standing beside a vulnerable child through one of the most difficult periods of their life develop the very character that religious service is intended to cultivate? And wouldn't that service accomplish something additional? It would not merely strengthen the character of the person serving. It could also alleviate immediate suffering.

If both forms of service can help perfect the Saints, but one can also prevent irreversible harm, shouldn't that matter when deciding which deserves greater emphasis? This proposal does not ask the Church to abandon its mission. It asks the Church to consider whether a temporary reallocation of resources could fulfill that mission more effectively.

Doctrine does not have to change. Priorities do.

Another concern raised in response to my proposal is that faithful members follow the prophet because they believe he receives revelation from God. I understand that belief. I lived within that religious framework for much of my life. But my proposal is not directed at individual members with an invitation to disregard Church leadership. It is directed to Church leadership itself. I am asking those responsible for establishing institutional priorities to consider changing them. The Church has changed policies, programs, practices, and organizational emphasis throughout its history. A change in institutional policy does not necessarily require abandoning the doctrine underlying an existing practice.

A ten-year moratorium on routine proxy ordinances would represent a significant change in current religious practice. I recognize that Church leaders presently encourage members to perform that work. But the Church could continue teaching the importance of salvation for the dead. It could continue teaching that families can be eternal. It could continue teaching that unfinished ordinances will be performed during the Millennium. It could continue providing sacred ordinances for living members. The underlying beliefs could remain intact.

What would change is the institutional decision about how urgently to complete routine proxy ordinances today. If Church leadership believes it can receive divine guidance concerning the direction of the Church, why couldn't that direction include ten years of extraordinary service to the living? Why couldn't Church leadership announce that, for a decade, it would place unprecedented emphasis on alleviating immediate human suffering? Why couldn't that become one of the defining accomplishments of the modern Church? I am not asking faithful members to change their testimony.

I am asking their leaders to consider a different use of the resources their members have already demonstrated such extraordinary willingness to provide.

But doesn't the Church already do enormous amounts of good?

Yes. And I want to address this objection directly because it has been raised repeatedly. The LDS Church participates in significant humanitarian and charitable efforts. Its members donate money, volunteer their time, support neighbors, respond to disasters, care for struggling families, and participate in countless acts of generosity. Many are foster parents. Many already volunteer with organizations serving vulnerable children. I know these people. I have served alongside them. I am not denying the good they accomplish.

But the existence of good works does not eliminate the responsibility to examine whether our priorities are right. Pointing out that the Church already feeds hungry people does not answer whether redirecting additional resources could feed more. Pointing out that Church members already volunteer does not answer whether redirecting additional volunteer hours could prevent more suffering. And pointing out that temple work and charitable service can coexist does not establish that the current balance between them is the most morally responsible allocation. Of course both activities can coexist. They already do.

The question is not whether the Church does good. The question is whether the Church could do substantially more good by redirecting resources from work that can wait toward suffering that cannot. That is the question I am asking Church leadership to confront.

Finite resources are not a scarcity mindset

Some have suggested that this proposal reflects a scarcity mentality, as though recognizing limited resources somehow prevents us from believing that both kinds of service are possible. But time is finite. Money is finite. Human resources are finite. No amount of optimism changes those realities. A person spending three hours performing proxy ordinances cannot simultaneously spend those same three hours advocating for a child in foster care. An institution allocating money toward one purpose cannot spend those same dollars on another purpose. Every organization makes decisions about how to distribute its limited resources. Those decisions are unavoidable.

The question is whether we are making the most morally responsible choices with the resources available. This does not mean every person must give up every luxury, every hobby, or every moment of personal enjoyment to serve others. There is a well-known philosophical concern called moral demandingness. Taken to an extreme, the argument that we should always do more good could imply that nearly every personal expenditure is immoral because the money could have been used to help someone in need. That is not the argument I am making.

I am asking about a specific institutional choice between two already-recognized religious responsibilities. One involves performing ordinances for people whose future opportunity is preserved within the Church's own theology. The other involves alleviating suffering among living people whose opportunities may disappear forever. I believe that distinction creates a powerful moral reason to reconsider the current allocation. And I believe an institution with the Church's extraordinary resources should be willing to examine that question seriously.

What would ten years actually look like?

Imagine the Church announcing that, for the next decade, it would suspend routine proxy ordinances for the dead. Temples would continue providing ordinances for living members. Reasonable exceptions could be made for recently deceased immediate family members. But the ordinary institutional emphasis on researching names and completing proxy ordinances would be temporarily redirected. Imagine postponing selected temple construction and expansion projects primarily intended to increase capacity for proxy work and directing appropriate resources toward urgent human needs.

Imagine ward and stake leaders organizing sustained service efforts with established charitable organizations. Imagine retired couples, professionals, and other capable adults redirecting time they would otherwise spend performing proxy ordinances or researching deceased ancestors toward meaningful service for living people. Imagine every ward having someone responsible for helping qualified members connect with CASA or other established programs serving vulnerable children. The Church would not need to create its own court advocacy system. CASA organizations already have procedures for screening, training, supervising, and assigning volunteers. The Church could support those organizations by encouraging qualified members to apply and complete the required process.

Imagine thousands of additional trained volunteers advocating for children who desperately need someone in their corner. Imagine the difference that could make. And CASA is only one example. There are established organizations helping people experiencing homelessness, hunger, addiction, abuse, loneliness, and other forms of suffering. The Church could work alongside those organizations and help them expand their reach. This would not simply be another service project. It would be a deliberate, institution-wide redirection of extraordinary resources toward urgent human needs.

And it could be measured. How many children received advocates? How many families received assistance? How many people were fed, housed, protected, or connected with necessary services? How many lives were improved because the Church made this decision? At the end of ten years, imagine being able to look back and answer those questions. Imagine the legacy that would create.

The difference between religious obedience and moral responsibility

I recognize that this proposal raises an uncomfortable question. What happens when following an established religious practice may not represent the greatest moral good available to us? I am not suggesting that faithful members act with bad intentions when they attend the temple. Quite the opposite. I believe most participate because they sincerely want to serve others and follow their religious convictions.

But sincerity alone does not settle questions about moral priorities. Two people can act with equally sincere intentions while producing very different consequences. If I have two hours available, and I can spend those hours performing an ordinance for someone who died two hundred years ago, or I can spend those hours advocating for a child who desperately needs someone in their corner, which choice carries the greater moral responsibility? A faithful Latter-day Saint may believe both activities have eternal significance. I understand that.

But even within that belief system, the question of urgency remains. The ordinance can be completed later. The child needs help now. I believe that knowingly prioritizing work that can be postponed over suffering that cannot raises a serious question of moral responsibility. And the greater an institution's capacity to help, the greater the importance of examining how that capacity is used. This is not about condemning individual temple workers. It is about asking institutional leaders to consider the consequences of the priorities they establish.

An extraordinary opportunity

The LDS Church possesses something few organizations in the world have. An established network of congregations, dedicated local leadership, committed volunteers, substantial institutional resources, and an extraordinary ability to mobilize people around a shared purpose. It has demonstrated that ability through generations of temple and family history work. It has taught members to sacrifice their time and energy to serve people they have never met. That is a remarkable organizational achievement. Now imagine directing that same capacity toward protecting vulnerable children.

Imagine thousands of children knowing that someone is looking out for them. Not because that person is being paid. Not because that person expects anything in return. But because a religious community has made serving the living one of its highest practical priorities. Imagine a generation of Latter-day Saints becoming known not only for the temples they built or the ancestors they researched, but for the children they protected, the families they strengthened, and the suffering they helped prevent.

Imagine the Church demonstrating that its extraordinary commitment to service extends beyond the promise of eternal blessings to the immediate needs of people living among us. And imagine doing all of this without abandoning the underlying doctrine of salvation for the dead. The Church could maintain its theology while reconsidering the urgency of its priorities. That is the opportunity I am asking its leaders to recognize.

My challenge to Church leadership: Ten years

To the First Presidency, the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles, and those responsible for directing the work of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints: I am asking you to consider a ten-year moratorium on routine proxy temple ordinances for the dead. Continue sacred ordinances for living members. Allow reasonable exceptions for recently deceased immediate family members. But temporarily suspend the ordinary institutional effort devoted to accelerating proxy ordinances for those who have already died. Redirect the associated volunteer hours, genealogical efforts, organizational attention, and appropriate financial resources toward alleviating suffering among the living. Reconsider temple construction and expansion priorities during this period. Partner with established organizations already doing important work. Start with CASA.

Give vulnerable children a voice. Give struggling families support. Give people experiencing urgent suffering the benefit of the Church's extraordinary organizational capabilities. And make this a defining institutional priority for ten years. Not simply another optional service initiative. Not merely another reminder that members should help their neighbors. A genuine reallocation of institutional resources, backed by Church leadership and carried throughout its worldwide organization.

I recognize that such a decision would be controversial. But extraordinary opportunities sometimes require extraordinary decisions. And the Church has an opportunity to demonstrate something profound. That its commitment to serving God's children is not limited to preparing people for eternity. That it also recognizes the urgency of helping them through the suffering of mortality.

The question I cannot escape

I no longer believe in the religious doctrines I once accepted. But I know many people who do, and I respect the sincerity of their convictions. My challenge is not to abandon those beliefs. It is to examine what those beliefs might demand of us today. If the Church can organize generations of members to find and serve their deceased ancestors, surely it can organize a generation to protect its living children.

If the Church believes unfinished ordinances can be completed during the Millennium, why must completing them today receive such extraordinary institutional emphasis? If helping a vulnerable child can prevent suffering that may otherwise shape an entire lifetime, why shouldn't that need receive greater urgency? And if the Church can accomplish both kinds of service over the course of eternity, why not prioritize the one whose opportunities are disappearing right now? These are questions I believe deserve serious consideration from Church leadership. Because every day that passes represents choices being made. Every hour spent on one activity is an hour unavailable for another.

Every opportunity to prevent suffering that passes unused may be an opportunity that never returns. I am asking Church leaders to consider what could happen if, for just ten years, they redirected an extraordinary portion of their collective effort toward people whose suffering cannot be postponed. The work for the dead could resume. The Church's doctrine could remain. The promised opportunities of the Millennium would remain.

But the children helped during those ten years would not have to wait for another lifetime. They would receive help when they needed it. They would have someone standing in their corner. They would know that they had not been forgotten. And perhaps, years from now, some of those children would look back and recognize that their lives changed because someone decided their suffering mattered more than maintaining an established institutional priority. The dead will have another opportunity, according to the Church's own theology. The living may not.

The dead can wait.

The living cannot.

Brad Hess Utah resident, former member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, longtime business leader, founder of a youth development initiative, and CASA volunteer trainee.