Ordaining Priesthood for Resurrection

Occasionally, I receive questions about the relationship between Mormon Transhumanism and priesthood. Generally, the questions come from members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, in which we esteem priesthood as the authority of God. Implicit in the questions, or sometimes explicit, is concern that our esteem for priesthood would be rendered meaningless in a world where miraculous technology is generally available. Who needs a priest when an algorithm can raise the dead?

Although I’ve responded to such questions in public interviews and private conversations, I’ve also been meaning to publish some thoughts in writing. Now seems like the perfect opportunity. Yesterday in conference, my stake (a group of local wards or congregations) voted to sustain me as a high priest in the Melchizedek priesthood. And, despite what some assume about Transhumanists, I’m grateful for their expression of support.

My Ordination

A few weeks ago, my son Spencer approached me with a request that I ordain him as a high priest. His stake had called him to serve in a position that requires this ordination. Traditionally, when this need arises, the person to be ordained asks someone he knows, who is already a high priest and authorized by the stake, to perform the ordinance.

Of course I was pleased that Spencer would ask me. But there was a problem. Decades ago, as a teenager, and at the invitation of the Church, I had been ordained successively as a deacon, teacher, and priest in the Aaronic priesthood, and then as an elder in the Melchizedek priesthood. But I had never been ordained, nor invited to be ordained, as a high priest

In this case, the Church wasn’t asking. But my son was asking. And I wanted to accept his invitation. Would it be appropriate for me to ask the Church?

A passage of scripture came to mind. In the Pearl of Great Price, we read the following in the voice of Abraham (chapter one, verses two through four):

“And, finding there was greater happiness and peace and rest for me, I sought for the blessings of the fathers, and the right whereunto I should be ordained to administer the same; having been myself a follower of righteousness⁠, desiring also to be one who possessed great knowledge⁠, and to be a greater follower of righteousness, and to possess a greater knowledge, and to be a father of many nations⁠, a prince of peace, and desiring to receive instructions, and to keep the commandments of God, I became a rightful heir, a High Priest⁠, holding the right belonging to the fathers.

“It was conferred upon me from the fathers; it came down from the fathers, from the beginning of time, yea, even from the beginning, or before the foundation of the earth, down to the present time, even the right of the firstborn⁠, or the first man, who is Adam⁠, or first father, through the fathers unto me. I sought for mine appointment unto the Priesthood according to the appointment of God unto the fathers concerning the seed.”

Look how many times the text indicates that Abraham intentionally seeks for ordination as a high priest. “I sought for the blessings … and the right whereunto I should be ordained,” begins Abraham. He proceeds with several indirect expressions of desire for ordination. And closing, he says, “I sought for mine appointment unto the Priesthood.”

Encouraged by this passage of scripture, I reached out to the bishop of my local ward, as well as the president of my local stake. After explaining to them my son’s request, I asked. Would you please consider authorizing my ordination as a high priest, so that I may ordain my son?

My bishop and stake president both warmly welcomed my request. And, subsequent to completing the requisite interviews, they authorized my ordination. Then I got to invite someone to perform the ordination.

As a teenager, I had asked my father, Layne Cannon, to perform my previous priesthood ordinations. He had been ordained as a high priest. And I would have liked to ask him to perform this additional ordination. But he’s dead – for now.

So I traveled to Spokane, Washington, where my maternal grandfather, James Plumb, lives. In his nineties, he’s my only living ancestor who has been ordained as a high priest. And he had happily accepted my invitation to ordain me.

With my stake president as a witness via webcam, my grandfather and his son (my uncle, also named James Plumb, and also a high priest) performed my ordination. They placed their hands on my head. My grandfather spoke:

“Lincoln Connelly Cannon, by the authority of the Melchizedek Priesthood, we ordain you to the office of high priest, and bestow the rights, powers, and authority of that office.”

He then proceeded to speak additional words, blessings, as he felt inspired. In both emotional and practical ways, it was a deeply meaningful experience.

A few days after my return from Spokane, I visited an office in the building where my son attends Church services. His local ward and stake authorities were present. Family was present. With my hands on Spencer’s head, I spoke:

“Spencer Layne Cannon, by the authority of the Melchizedek Priesthood, we ordain you to the office of high priest, and bestow the rights, powers, and authority of that office.”

Like my grandfather had done for me, I spoke those words and others, blessings, as I felt inspired. In both emotional and practical ways, it was a deeply meaningful experience. Maybe sometime I’ll share with you more about the emotional part of the experience. For now, I want to tell you more about why it was practically meaningful – and was illustrative of what will, I trust, remain practically meaningful experience for as long as humanity and our evolutionary descendants endure.

Practical Priesthood

When I address the practical benefits of traditional religious practice, such as priesthood, I try to do so in ways that resonate with both believers and non-believers. I want believers to see ourselves genuinely reflected in my words, even if my perspective isn’t exactly the same as theirs. And I want non-believers to see the functional consequences of religious practice in new light, independent of preconceptions they might have about any supposed inherent anti-naturalism in religion. This balance isn’t easy, but the effort reflects who I am and how I do actually value my religion, including priesthood.

Priesthood provides a framework for governance within the Church, to promote reconciliation and solidarity among its members. We need governance, whether we like it or not – whether we recognize the need or not. Where we lack explicit governance, implicit governance emerges, too often tyrannical. When functioning well, as I often but don’t always observe in the Church, governance serves to facilitate cooperation within a community.

Priesthood enhances the efficacy of religious practice. It infuses rituals with a stronger sense of purpose, and renders them more tangibly consequential. Scientific evidence shows that authority plays a crucial role in generating placebo, which, although not yet well understood, is a very real and quite natural power for healing and well-being. I have observed and experienced from time to time throughout my life that priesthood can be a particularly effective form of authority for channeling the power of placebo.

As articulated in Mormon scripture, priesthood fosters the ethical accumulation and exercise of power. Power isn’t inherently good or evil, in how we gain or use it. But it can be powerfully evil, as it can be powerfully good. In what I esteem to be among his most inspiring words, the prophet Joseph Smith explained that priesthood authority is only the possibility of power (or even less) until we use it with compassion to promote trust and cultivate reciprocal compassion that willingly gives us power (D&C 121):

“No power or influence can or ought to be maintained by virtue of the priesthood, only by persuasion, by long-suffering, by gentleness and meekness, and by love unfeigned; By kindness, and pure knowledge, which shall greatly enlarge the soul without hypocrisy, and without guile …

“Let thy bowels also be full of charity towards all men, and to the household of faith, and let virtue garnish thy thoughts unceasingly; then shall thy confidence wax strong in the presence of God; and the doctrine of the priesthood shall distil upon thy soul as the dews from heaven. The Holy Ghost shall be thy constant companion, and thy scepter an unchanging scepter of righteousness and truth; and thy dominion shall be an everlasting dominion, and without compulsory means it shall flow unto thee forever and ever.”

Priesthood facilitates the integration of theology with technology. Without priesthood, or its functional equivalent, theology is merely analytical ideas and words. Priesthood implements theology into the act of ritual, which gives body and life to the theology. And ritual, over time, converts aspiration into reality, words shaping the world through arts – the literal etymological meaning of “technology.”

Particularly as practiced among Mormons, priesthood encourages an aspirational and co-created approach to divine authority. We esteem priesthood as the authority of God, which we participate in distributing throughout humanity. Consequently, the authorized purpose and potential of God increasingly becomes our shared purposes and potential, as we live up to the covenant relationship. On this matter, Joseph Smith expressed these (D&C 84):

“For whoso is faithful unto the obtaining these two priesthoods of which I have spoken, and the magnifying their calling, are sanctified by the Spirit unto the renewing of their bodies. They become the sons of Moses and of Aaron and the seed of Abraham, and the church and kingdom, and the elect of God.

“And also all they who receive this priesthood receive me, saith the Lord; For he that receiveth my servants receiveth me; And he that receiveth me receiveth my Father; And he that receiveth my Father receiveth my Father’s kingdom; therefore all that my Father hath shall be given unto him.

“And this is according to the oath and covenant which belongeth to the priesthood. Therefore, all those who receive the priesthood, receive this oath and covenant of my Father, which he cannot break, neither can it be moved.

In summary, we need not believe in anti-natural magic or adopt any superstitious stance toward the world to recognize and appreciate the functional consequences of priesthood. It provides us with structure for governance, promoting cooperation and enhancing the efficacy of ritual. It educates us in the ethical accumulation of power, facilitating a progressive expression of theology into technology. And it would align us with that which we understand and sense to be the purpose and potential of Godhood.

Keys of the Resurrection

In addition to the practical benefits of priesthood in our lives today, I envision an apocalyptic purpose for priesthood in our future. Sometimes revelation is passive observation. But the revelation, the unveiling or exhuming, to which I now refer is quite the opposite. The apocalyptic purpose of priesthood will be an active authorization to re-create everything that matters and has ever mattered to humanity – the resurrection.

I frequently comment on how to raise the dead, not as an anti-natural fantasy but as an aspiration toward a practical technological project. Recently, with intentional provocation, I’ve been suggesting that the resurrection will begin within the next couple decades. When commenting on this, I have usually focused on how to approach imagining such an event as technically possible. But there are also social requirements for positive versions of this possibility.

We may soon live in a world where it’s harder to stay dead than alive. That’s to say, you may still be able to destroy your body – accidentally or otherwise. But we may also have ample means for reconstructing your body, your brain, and its association with your mind, all from backups. So far, so good.

But, to some terrifying extent, it may prove difficult to constrain use of technology for reconstructing that which … appears to be you. Deep fakes in photos, audio, and video can already be deeply disconcerting. And the risks of unethical use of these technologies seem poised to grow well beyond that which we even have the anatomical capacity to imagine presently.

What, if anything, can we do about that? I have repeatedly contended that we should advocate decentralization of power and build decentralized systems of governance. Decentralization naturally promotes cooperation, which makes our relationships more dependable. This is a good start.

Looking beyond a good start, however, our gaze rises toward the limit – the limit of human potential in the superhuman. At that limit, how might superhuman intelligence govern itself? How might superhumanity maintain within itself a coherent sense of identity? What will ensure decentralized agency, and requisite capacities for consent, privacy, and security?

No matter their form, all systems of governance have authority, explicit or implicit – the concepts require each other. And governance at the limit of humanity will require authority at the limit of humanity. As it’s hard to imagine superhuman governance, it’s hard to imagine superhuman authority. But that’s never stopped me from trying.

To remain effective among agents of extraordinary esthetic complexity, superhuman governance must enshrine its authority in superhuman esthetics. And that’s just a wordy way of saying that the Gods must be nothing short of religious about their authority. In function, religion is communal esthetics. And it’s the most powerful social technology.

Religious governance is priesthood. Priesthood is the authority through which the Gods govern themselves. Authority enshrined in sublime esthetics is how superhumanity, that which I trust now exists and that which I trust humanity may become, governs itself. And nothing less than this authority at the limit will be required of humanity at the limit, if we are to survive and thrive.

In that world, where it’s harder to stay dead than alive, we will need each other – superhuman versions of each other – to maintain a coherent sense of identity. You see, we don’t individually own our identities. Identity is a psychosocial construct. And we will need to anchor that construct in the most trustworthy community, the most sublime, the most divine.

Here, then, is the apocalyptic purpose of priesthood. The Gods must authorize resurrection. If it’s not authorized, raising the dead is just making copies, clones, doppelgangers, and deep fakes. If it’s not psychosocially sufficient, if we don’t fully consent both individually and socially, leveraging governance at its limit through authority at its limit, it’s not resurrection.

Ordinance of the Resurrection

Joseph Smith once prophesied that, in the “last times,” we will gain the keys of the transfiguration (or “translation”), transforming living mortals to immortality. And he said that transfiguration would be an ordinance of the priesthood. Some have supposed that to mean the functional capacity (technical or antinatural, as the case may be) to end aging will eventually become available exclusively to priesthood. Maybe.

“Now the doctrine of translation is a power which belongs to this Priesthood. There are many things which belong to the powers of the Priesthood and the keys thereof, that have been kept hid from before the foundation of the world; they are hid from the wise and prudent to be revealed in the last times. Many have supposed that the doctrine of translation was a doctrine whereby men were taken immediately into the presence of God, and into an eternal fullness, but his is a mistaken idea. Their place of habitation is that of the terrestrial order, and a place prepared for such characters He held in reserve to be ministering angels unto many planets, and who as yet have not entered into so great a fullness as those who are resurrected from the dead.” (Joseph Smith, Teachings 170)

But Joseph didn’t say the requisite functional capacity to end aging would be exclusive. Priesthood may control technical aspects of transfiguration no more than we presently control technical aspects of baptism. Just about anyone can dunk a body in water, but only priesthood can authorize that event as baptism. Likewise, just about anyone may be able to apply powerful anti-aging technologies to a body, but only priesthood could authorize that event as transfiguration.

Looking a bit farther ahead, Brigham Young once prophesied that we will eventually also gain the keys of the resurrection, raising the dead to immortality. And, reminiscent of Joseph, Brigham said that resurrection would be an ordinance of the priesthood. As with transfiguration, some have supposed that to mean the capacity to raise the dead will eventually become available exclusively to priesthood. But again, he didn’t say the requisite functional capacity would be exclusive.

“I have friends on the earth, for God would raise them up for me to do my work. That is not all; by and by the Lord will say to the sleeping dust, awake and come forth out of your graves. I am on hand; the Lord wakes me up or sends somebody to do it that possesses the keys of the resurrection. My dust is waked up; my spirit is re-united to it, and it is made a celestial body filled with immortality and eternal life.” (Brigham Young, Addresses 2: 100)

I’ve suggested that transfiguration may be analogous to baptism. More persuasively, Joseph Smith explicitly taught that baptism is analogous to resurrection. Here are his words on the matter (D&C 128):

“Herein is glory and honor, and immortality and eternal life — The ordinance of baptism by water, to be immersed therein in order to answer to the likeness of the dead, that one principle might accord with the other; to be immersed in the water and come forth out of the water is in the likeness of the resurrection of the dead in coming forth out of their graves; hence, this ordinance was instituted to form a relationship with the ordinance of baptism for the dead, being in likeness of the dead.”

Baptism is symbolic of resurrection. It’s a ritual that increasingly transforms theology into technology, words into reality. As we do our family history, gather records of our dead ancestors, and perform temple ordinances such as proxy baptism for them, we imagine their restoration to life with increasing detail.

Someday, perhaps sooner than most of us are anticipating, our imagination of the dead will be newly empowered. Assuming we don’t destroy ourselves first, humanity will develop technology to gather and organize information about the dead to magnitudes of detail that will overcome any practical distinction between simulation and re-creation. We will raise the dead. And we will need a powerful system of governance with powerful authority, as esthetically compelling as it is technically capable, to authorize the ordinance of resurrection.

As an important aside, I certainly don’t mean by this that we need a tyrannical system of governance. And I certainly don’t think any centralized system of governance (even a centralized Church governance) will prove capable of cultivating the limits of cooperation, practically indistinguishable from compassion, that will be necessary to avoid hellish future scenarios at the limits of technological power. By “powerful,” I just mean powerful. And the most dependable way to perpetuate compassionate power is decentralization, I trust, even for the Gods.

Aspirational Priesthood

But who’s to say that the Melchizedek priesthood, that which The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints esteems as the authority of God, actually is or necessarily will be that which authorizes resurrection? Of course some in the Church would make this claim. And of course most outside the Church would either not care about or dispute this claim. Maybe God, the cosmic host, will tell you.

In the meantime, it may be more productive, and a more genuine expression of faith, to think of priesthood as a perpetual aspiration actively to receive and participate in the authority of God, rather than anything ever merely given and passively received. Perhaps like Abraham as an individual, the Church as a community might approach our future, and our God, and each other, with the express desire for sublime authority, asked through our actions. Perhaps we have an opportunity to progress, as a Church like individuals, through successive ordinations to greater degrees of authority.

An aspirational perspective on priesthood may be more consistent with history. If we esteem priesthood as authority of that particular God, Christ, who would raise us together in Godhood, thereby perpetually decentralizing God, clearly our history is one of imperfect progress. Some Church leaders, notably Joseph Smith and Spencer Kimball, decentralized priesthood beyond formal clergy and racial exclusion. Perhaps we will eventually decentralize beyond gender exclusion and gerontocracy.

An aspirational perspective on priesthood may also be more consistent with scripture and the Mormon authoritative tradition. This is perhaps most strongly expressed by the prophet Isaiah, speaking in the voice of God, who rejects priesthood ritual from those with metaphorical blood on their hands. The prophet Malachi, also speaking in the voice of God, prophesies that priesthood must be purged and purified before becoming capable of performing acceptable ritual. Echoing Malachi, Joseph Smith explicitly framed the relationship of priesthood to ritual work for the dead in aspirational terms (D&C 128):

“Let us, therefore, as a church and a people, and as Latter-day Saints, offer unto the Lord an offering in righteousness; and let us present in his holy temple … a book containing the records of our dead, which shall be worthy of all acceptation.”

Let us, indeed, aspire to sublime authority. May we gain it without compulsion. And may we use it with compassion and courage, trusting that God has indeed ordained, before the world was, that which would enable us save ourselves with all our dead.