Editor's note: Noting the 30th anniversary of the 1978 priesthood
revelation, this is the first in a series of profiles on black Mormons
and their families. Marcus Martins' life story has been written before. His noteworthy, and
in some cases unprecedented, experiences as a black member of The
Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints are well-chronicled, and
Martins says he enjoys reading such accounts."These stories really inspired me," he said. "I only wish they were true."Martins
laughs when discussing how the details of some accounts aren't entirely
accurate. The heart of his story, however, is still worthy of print,
and there is inspiration to spare in even the most basic retelling.Martins
insists he is just an ordinary church member but concedes that his
experiences have been "extraordinary." The story begins with his
family's conversion in 1972 and their activity in the church at a time
when their African ancestry made certain opportunities unavailable. The
1978 revelation allowing all worthy male members to hold the priesthood
regardless of race opened a new chapter, and the timing of the event
made Martins an unexpected pioneer.While he does not consider
himself an activist, Martins' educational and professional pursuits
have afforded him the opportunity to share his story and enlighten
church members on the priesthood restriction and race relations in the
LDS Church."I suppose that not because of ourselves, but
because of the nature of those experiences, those served as ... a
visible example to others of the universality of the gospel and the
universal nature of the blessings of the gospel," Martins said."We
can all come into the church and be one. My story is just another
example of the universal availability of the blessings of the gospel."MARCUS MARTINS IS
the descendant of European, African and American Indian ancestors who
grew up in Rio de Janeiro, Brazil. His father, the late Helvécio
Martins, was a respected professional who worked as an executive for a
national oil company and as a university professor.But when the
family was baptized into the LDS Church in 1972, their African ancestry
prohibited Martins, who was 13 at the time, and his father from being
priesthood holders. Martins, now 49, says the family never experienced
"any crisis of faith.""We saw this as just the cost of
membership in the church," he said. "Because of our desire, and we had
the desire to join the church, we could just say that this is the way
the church operates. ... We had to accept it, so we did."The
Martins family became part of a branch that included neighbors and
members who were welcoming. Helvécio Martins was called as a gospel
doctrine teacher just two weeks after his baptism, and just three
months after the family's conversion, Martins' father and mother, Ruda
Martins, both received callings in the newly established stake in Rio
de Janeiro. Marcus Martins himself served as secretary in the Young Men
program."We were fully integrated, fully fellowshipped in the
church," he said. "These issues about the priesthood ban were in the
background."But they were still present.Martins
describes these issues as "clouds." In his book "Setting the Record
Straight: Blacks and the Mormon Priesthood," Martins writes about going
from a "somewhat privileged social standing" to being "categorized as
'cursed, less valiant, fence-sitters, Cain's lineage."' Perceptions of
the priesthood restriction were founded in explanations members often
ascribed to the policy, such as the notion that blacks were not as
faithful in the premortal existence. In his book, Martins addresses
these perceptions and calls them "speculative ideas and hypotheses
developed as man-made attempts to understand the rationale and possible
reasons for the ban."When Martins was deciding whether to serve
a mission, a fellow ward member suggested that he should accept the
call so he wouldn't "mess up here" like he had in the pre-existence.
One church leader implied that Martins' fiancée and now wife, who is
white, would not be able to enter the celestial kingdom if they got
married."The fact is that we knew that people were looking upon
us as those people who messed up in the pre-existence," Martins said.
"It was there. ... We knew that these things were in people's mind."There was this cloud, if you will, following us around."Martins,
however, emphasizes that he was never mistreated or discriminated
against, and that such experiences were isolated and contrary to the
general acceptance and respect his family was received with. In fact,
in 1975 Helvécio Martins was called as a public affairs representative,
giving television and newspaper interviews about the church despite not
being allowed to hold the priesthood. General authorities traveling to
Brazil would often ask to meet Brother Martins.Despite some
members' perceptions, Martins says the priesthood ban was a "non-issue"
in Brazil. His father was never asked to speak about it, and Martins
remembers only two occasions when Helvécio Martins addressed the
restriction in church. While Marcus Martins himself has been requested
to speak on the issue more than 120 times in the United States
throughout his career, he's never been asked to do so in Brazil.BECAUSE OF THE
standing of his father, who in 1990 became a member of the LDS Church's
Second Quorum of the Seventy, and the culture he was raised in, Martins
realizes his story isn't typical."My experience in the church
was very, very different than my counterparts in the U.S. because of
where we were and who my father was," Martins said.When Martins
did experience what it was like to be a black member of the church in
the United States, his impressions were positive. After getting
married, having two children and working for 10 years as a systems
analyst in Brazil, Martins and his family moved to Provo, where he
obtained three degrees from Brigham Young University in a six-year span.Because
of his family situation, Martins and his wife, Mirian, were counseled
by a stake president that a community ward might better meet the needs
of their growing children. Martins was hesitant to leave the student
ward because of the "misconceptions and stereotypes" he had about
Americans being a little cold.His family's experience in the
Pleasant View 1st Ward, however, was far from frigid. The ward included
63 high priests who were much older than Martins, who was a former
bishop. But the men "took me in as one of their own," he said."People
received us with open arms and open hearts, and we made friends for
life and beyond," he said. "It was one of the greatest surprises for
me, as a Brazilian, the warmth and love we received."That's
when I finally came to the realization (that) this gospel of Jesus
Christ can really transcend nationalities and racial barriers."While
studying in Provo, Martins' career path veered away from business. He
began teaching religion courses at BYU, and upon graduation, Martins
and his family moved to Rexburg, Idaho, where he became a religion
instructor at Ricks College. In 2000, he joined the faculty at
BYU-Hawaii, where he is currently chairman of the department of
religious education.MARTINS' MEMBERSHIP IN the LDS Church, and the subsequent 1978 priesthood revelation, has changed his life in many facets.Martins
and Mirian Abelin Barbosa, who had just returned from a mission, were
engaged to be married on Aug. 8, 1978. Exactly two months before their
wedding date, President Spencer W. Kimball announced the revelation
that would allow Martins to hold the priesthood and enter the temple,
and Martins was challenged by his stake president to serve a mission.Initially,
Martins planned to continue with the wedding but was persuaded to serve
a mission by what he calls "a sense of duty." Mirian Martins, who lived
60 miles away in Petropolis, said she received a call from her fiancé,
who said they needed to talk."I was so surprised," she said.
Because she had a testimony of missionary work and because her fiancé
had encouraged her to serve a mission, she supported his decision. At
the same time, she felt like "(asking) my bishop if I can go back to
the mission field."Marcus Martins became the church's first
black member to serve a full-time mission post-1978. He downplays the
distinction, saying he was totally unprepared because he never thought
he'd have the opportunity. He served in the Brazil Sao Paulo North
Mission and describes himself as an "ordinary missionary" who "didn't
do anything special." After working for one year in some remote areas,
his unique status became "old news," he said.Mirian waited for
her missionary, and the couple married upon his return in 1980. While
they both prayed and fasted about the decision, Mirian Martins said
that prior to 1978, the priesthood restriction was cause for concern
about the marriage among some. The revelation, therefore, was a great
blessing to the couple."It was the answer to our prayers for everybody, not just for ourselves," she said.The
couple has four children and one grandchild. With Martins' son Flavio
recently being named bishop of a ward in Eagle Mountain, Utah, three
generations of the Martins family have served in that capacity.MARTINS DOESN'T CONSIDER
himself a representative of any race or nationality, acknowledging all
areas of his ancestry and calling himself "a citizen of the world." He
doesn't specialize in researching the priesthood ban or race relations,
and his professional emphasis is more on temples, globalization,
economics, immigration and technology, and how those concepts affect
the church.He's not an activist. In fact, his often-used phrase is: "This is a time for activity, and not activism."But
being the church's first black missionary following the priesthood
revelation does give Martins authority on the subject, and his career
as an educator at three church institutions has provided him with
opportunities to address the issue. This past semester, Martins spoke
at a devotional at the Orem LDS Institute of Religion."People think I know about this so they invite me to speak," he said.From his unique perspective, he sees a bright future and a capable church.In
his book, Martins suggests that parents "not allow the (priesthood ban)
issue to trouble our children and grandchildren." He has told his two
sons and two daughters that because of their race, others may have
misconceptions about them. Martins says that teaching his children has
been less about the priesthood ban and more about life and society in
general. More than counseling them on race relations, he has focused on
civility, citizenship and conviction."What I taught them is
that they should gain a testimony of the gospel, keep the commandments
and be active members and contributors in whatever place they lived,"
Martins said.He doesn't believe in color-blindness, but Martins
hopes that the generation of his granddaughter will be one where
"differences will be accepted as normal," he said."I have great hopes for the future. I am optimistic."After
36 years of membership in the church, Martins is convinced that as the
faithful become more global and diverse, The Church of Jesus Christ of
Latter-day Saints will continue to meet the needs of its members."I
like to say that the church is perfectly adapted to the circumstances
in which its members live," he said. "I don't have any concerns
whatsoever about the future of the church. We have challenges, but
we're in good hands."Martins profileName: Marcus Helvécio Tourinho de Assis MartinsHometown: Rio de Janeiro, BrazilMission: Brazil Sao Paulo North (1978-80)Family: Wife, Mirian; children, Flavio, Felipe, Cristina, Natalia; grandchild, HannahEducation:
Bachelor's (business management), master's (business administration),
Ph.D. (sociology of religion, race and ethnic relations) from Brigham
Young UniversityOccupation: Chairman, department of religious education, BYU-HawaiiChurch service:
Full-time missionary, bishop, high councilor, stake and ward executive
secretary, high priest group leader, ward mission leader, temple
officiator, instructor