Introduction
A couple weeks ago I was catching a friend up on the recent Reform Mormon developments, and he half-jokingly called me his prophetess. I had a bit of a visceral reaction, and insisted that he refer to me as a Matriarch, as I feel that is my actual calling, and I don’t consider “prophetess” as a core identifier. I had written about this about 5 years ago, but I had such a strong reaction when talking with my friend that I felt it was important to re-examine what the word means to me. I decided to read about Mormonism’s first prophets, and then examine how I feel about some folks who are called or identify as prophets today.
The First Mormon Prophets
The earliest days of Mormonism were quite interesting. Joseph Smith Jr. was said to be entrusted with an ancient record that he was translating into English with the use of a seer stone. As he worked, Joseph also received revelations through this same seer stone. In one of these revelations, Joseph said that the ONLY special gift that he had was this translation work and that he possessed no unique authority beyond this function. Furthermore, he was not the sole translator; Oliver Cowdery was also granted the ability to engage in this work.
The translation work was completed by June 1829. The following spring Joseph Smith Jr relinquished his seer stone to Oliver Cowdery and remarked that he no longer needed it since his divinely appointed task had concluded. He explained that from that point forward his only calling was to preach the gospel just the same as other members of the community. He further declared that the community must rely on the Holy Ghost for continuing revelation rather than any one individual.
During this early period, Mormonism functioned as an egalitarian movement in which all members were considered equals, and revelation was understood to be a collective obligation. Some of these early prophets who gave revelations included Ziba Peterson, Hiram Page, Oliver Cowdery, Parley P. Pratt, Orson Pratt, Peter Whitmer, Christian Whitmer, John Whitmer, and David Whitmer. One of Oliver Cowdery’s revelations was called the “Articles of the Church of Christ,” which provided guidelines for governing the fledgling church. By August 1829, David Whitmer regarded Mormonism as a fully established religious tradition, as baptisms and priesthood ordinations had already commenced.
By April 1830 Mormonism had about 70 members and 6 priesthood members. However, external scrutiny raised concerns about the legitimacy of Mormonism as a tradition due to its lack of formal legal incorporation. Concurrently, internal tensions arose as some members began to feel the limitations of a purely egalitarian structure and sought a clearer hierarchy of leadership.
In response to these developments, the church convened on April 6, 1830, to formalize its legal status. At this meeting, Joseph Smith presented a revelation that positioned him as the primary leader of the movement. He was designated as the first to be ordained (or, more accurately, re-ordained within the newly established legal entity) and was assigned titles such as elder, seer, translator, apostle, and prophet. The translator and prophet titles were not extended to anyone else.
At this same gathering, Joseph also introduced the “Articles and Covenants,” a document that closely resembled Cowdery’s earlier “Articles of the Church of Christ” but with key theological differences. One of the most significant changes pertained to the requirements for baptism. While Cowdery’s document stated that anyone who wished to be baptized should be, Joseph’s revision added that individuals had to first demonstrate their worthiness through their works. This subtle shift moved Mormonism away from a grace-centered theology and toward one based on works.
By the summer of 1830, tensions were growing between Mormonism’s egalitarian roots and the increasing push for centralized authority. In response to Joseph’s new requirement for baptism, Oliver Cowdery wrote to him, commanding him “in the name of God” to remove the works-based requirement, arguing that it introduced priestcraft among them. At the time, Cowdery was within his rights to challenge Joseph because no formal hierarchy existed that prevented him from doing so. Around this same time, another early member, Hiram Page, continued receiving his own revelations, one of which dealt with where the church should be headquartered. These events made it clear that the community still valued a collective approach to spiritual guidance.
However, Joseph, now increasingly regarded as the movement’s spiritual leader, responded with another revelation in September 1830. This revelation declared that only he could receive revelation for the church, effectively nullifying Cowdery’s command and Page’s revelations and consolidating his prophetic authority and establishing a precedent for hierarchical leadership.
Further solidifying this shift, Joseph later modified an earlier revelation. The original wording had stated, “and he has a gift to translate the book, and I have commanded him that he shall pretend to no other gift, for I will grant him no other gift.” However, it was later revised to say, “And you have a gift to translate the plates; and this is the first gift that I bestowed upon you; and I have commanded that you should pretend to no other gift until my purpose is fulfilled in this; for I will grant unto you no other gift until it is finished.” This revision allowed Joseph to expand his role beyond a one-time translation and claim additional spiritual gifts, including that of prophet.
Over time, these structural developments transformed Mormonism from what was initially a theocratic anarchy into a theocratic monarchy, with Joseph Smith Jr. at its head. This transition culminated in his literal coronation as a king on April 11, 1844.
Following Joseph’s death, several factions emerged within the movement, some of which sought to restore its original egalitarian ethos. Groups such as the Temple Lot adherents, the Whitmerites, and, to some extent, the Bickertonites, attempted to return to earlier principles of communal revelation and decentralized authority. However, most of the major schisms embraced the later model developed by Joseph, establishing hierarchical structures in which a single leader was regarded as a near-infallible prophet, priest, and king. This was notably the case among the Brighamites, the Strangites, and, to an extent, the Josephites who adopted the theological concept of “Supreme Directional Control” to justify their leader’s authority.
In nearly every branch of Mormonism that embraced hierarchy, the person at the top has been referred to as a “prophet.”
Today
Over the past 200 years, countless individuals—both within and outside of Mormonism—have claimed the title of prophet. Some have sought to emulate the egalitarian approach of early Mormonism, while others have embraced more authoritarian models of prophetic leadership. Many fall somewhere in between.
In its most benign form, the term prophet/prophetess is often used to describe individuals who are particularly outspoken on issues of religious or civil rights. Figures such as Episcopal Bishop Mariann Edgar Budde, Martin Luther King Jr., and Sylvia Rivera have been described as prophets or prophetesses for their bold and uncompromising advocacy. In these contexts, the title serves as an affirmation of their work and a recognition of their moral and spiritual leadership. Similarly, within my own life and community, there are individuals whom I consider prophets or prophetesses, including David and Kristine Ferriman, Sam Young, and Sara LaWall. In these cases, the term is used as an expression of admiration and respect rather than as a declaration of divine authority.
At a more institutional level, figures designated as prophets – such as the presidents of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints and Community of Christ – hold significant or total authority within their respective traditions. While they may be viewed as divinely guided, they remain individuals with inherently limited perspectives and thus have not always wielded it in ways that have served their members’ best interests. For example, the First Presidency of Community of Christ unilaterally sold the Kirtland Temple without prior consultation with the general membership. This decision was made possible by the theological doctrine of “Supreme Directional Control,” which grants the First Presidency final authority over church affairs.
In its most extreme form, “prophetic” leadership can become a mechanism for total social, financial, and even sexual control. Mormon history, in particular, has produced a disproportionate number of individuals who have taken the prophetic mantle to dangerous and destructive extremes. Time and again, our tradition has given rise to individuals who, under the guise of prophetic authority, have led their followers into abusive and violent circumstances – figures such as Warren Jeffs, Jeffrey Lundgren, Ron and Dan Lafferty, Brian David Mitchell, Ervil LeBaron, Joseph Morris, Samuel Bateman, and Lori and Chad Daybell. Given the profound influence of these and other similar figures, it is not surprising that when people hear the term prophet, their minds often gravitate toward these extreme cases.
My thoughts
As a Mormon, I am acutely aware of how the title of prophet, and by extension the title of prophetess, has been used – time and again – to control, exploit, and harm my people. Because of this history, I find it difficult to fully trust the intentions of anyone who claims this title, even when I believe they are well-meaning, as is the case with Kristine and David Ferriman. The weight of the term carries too much baggage for me to accept it without hesitation.
When my friend recently referred to me as a prophetess, I was caught off guard. My immediate concern was that he saw me as someone attempting to wield authority over others – something I have no desire to do. However, upon reflection, I realized he likely meant it as a recognition of my work in fighting oppression and creating supportive communities. In his eyes, it was a statement of love and respect, not an expectation of power.
Even after compiling The Book of the Lavens, a book of scripture written for and by Queer individuals, I do not consider myself a prophetess. Instead, I identify as a Matriarch, a title that aligns with my calling to offer blessings, guidance, and counsel to individuals, families, and communities. My contributions to the Reform Mormon community stem from a desire to foster meaningful discussions about theology and to create a space where people can share both their joys and their struggles – not from any wish to impose my will on others.
Just as I have described certain individuals as prophets or prophetesses out of admiration, I now understand that some close friends and family members may see me in a similar light. While I appreciate the sentiment, the title still makes me uneasy. Given Mormonism’s history with self-proclaimed prophets, I continue to decline the label in conversations with family and friends, even when it is offered with the best of intentions.