Temple

Shortly after graduating high school, I received my endowment. I made a trip to the bookstore with my parents to buy garments. Prior to this, all I had heard about garments was that some church members wear a special type of underwear to remind them of covenants they make. When we arrived, a friendly older woman explained the different styles to me, suggesting I try two kinds before my mission to figure out which fabric I preferred. I was also measured for what was described as a “ceremonial packet”, which I was instructed not to open until I was in the temple. At the end of this rather unusual underwear shopping experience, I was surprised by the cost. I recalled Jesus becoming upset with the money changers in the temple, but I figured perhaps he had his reasons for selling sacred clothing.

I was one of the first people endowed in the newly renovated Idaho Falls temple, so the process was disorganized and confusing. My mom and grandparents went one way, while my dad and I headed to the men’s locker room. In a hushed tone, an older man directed me to change into my temple clothes—an all-white version of typical business casual attire—and to put on the garment underneath. He chuckled, made a comment about the ceremony being more modest than when he had gone through, then told me to meet him back at the curtain where he was standing.

The Initiatory

I was instructed that I would be “doing an initiatory”. This involved proceeding through a cycle of four small, curtained-off rooms. In the first, an older man in a white suit explained that I was to wear the special temple garment I had just put on underneath my clothes at all times. Then, in the subsequent rooms, the worker dripped oil and water on my head and blessed various body parts, reading from a laminated page stuck to the wall.

In the final room, the worker became emotional and told me I was receiving a new name, the purpose of which I would learn later in the ceremony. He indicated this name was divinely revealed and that I was not allowed to ever reveal it, but must always remember it. I later discovered these names are simply assigned based on the day of the month one goes through the temple, rather than being divinely revealed. I had naively thought my name, Hyrum, was special and unique to me. I have since learned that my name was determined by the date I attended the temple.

We were then led to a chapel-like waiting room, with an organ quietly playing pre-recorded hymns. I sat in silence with my parents, grandparents, and a couple of my neighbors who had come to witness the occasion.

The Endowment

Right on schedule, we were escorted alongside other temple patrons to a room arranged like a small auditorium. My dad whispered to me that the men sit on the right, and the women on the left. A temple worker asked me to take a seat in the front row, between my dad and grandpa. Just as the lights dimmed, my grandpa leaned over and whispered that I was about to witness more than I would be able to handle.

“Welcome to the temple,” a voice boomed through the overhead speakers. It solemnly warned that we were about to make sacred covenants that would influence our eternal judgment. The voice indicated that anyone who did not wish to proceed should stand at that time. I felt intimidated and scared, but with our family having made the trip to Idaho Falls, I did not want to be “that guy” who backed out. It felt akin to a childhood dare – the voice daring us not to be too “chicken” to make the covenants.

The endowment began with a video depicting the creation story from the first chapters of Genesis. After the main part of the video, we received various tokens and signs, which we were instructed to keep secret. Near the end of the ceremony, I was instructed to join a circle with my family while we chanted a prayer in unison. This was introduced to us as “the true order of prayer”, but I wondered why a loving God would not give all His children appropriate instructions for prayer.

We were then instructed to approach a large white veil with specially shaped holes, exchange tokens with a worker on the other side, and recite a long, sacred phrase. This was all done “for and in behalf of Landon Taylor, who is dead”, leaving me to wonder if my endowment was even valid, or if this was God’s punishment for some unremembered sin.

Eventually, I made it through the veil into the celestial room – an over-lit lobby with ornate, expensive furniture. My family was emotional, but I felt disoriented and confused. The experience did not live up to the amazing spiritual event so many had described.