Anytime I need to check myself and exercise some theological humility, I put on Pharaoh Sanders’ epic and expansive rendition of “The Creator Has a Master Plan” (a track so long that it takes up one whole side of his 1969 LP Karma^[1]Speaking of Free Jazzers and Coltrane acolytes using spiritual vocabularies in their song and album titles. and spills onto Side B–such that the song can only be properly experienced in the digital age, ironically). Because we make such a big deal about the “Great Plan of Happiness” (Alma 42:8) in the LDS faith, you see, that it’s easy to forget that this concept isn’t unique to us, that plenty of religious people believe that there is a Great Plan of Happiness–or perhaps, more generously, that we all intuit that there is a great plan of happiness, even if most folks have never been explicitly taught so.

Otherwise, why would we continue to get so upset and outraged at every new crime exposed, each new mass-shooting, cover-up, corruption in high places, rape, murder, war, invasion, torture, sexual assault, bigotry, prejudice, power-grab, exploitation, pollution, injustice, lie? Haven’t we lived in this world long enough to know that this is just how things are? Has not history taught you that this is simply how we’ve always been? Why don’t more of us just give in to cynicism and be done with it?

The answer, I believe, is because deep down we all understand–on a very primal, spiritual level–that this is not how this world is supposed to be organized at all. “Adam fell that men might be, and men are that they might have joy” (2 Nephi 2:25) reads one of our most treasured scriptures; and so instinctively we react with rage against everything that disrupts and ruins joy on this earth–we know, just know, a priori, without having to be told so, that we are supposed to be happy, and therefore that misery is an aberration, a failure in the system, no matter how common and omnipresent it becomes.

“The creator has a master plan/Peace and happiness for every man,” sings vocalist Leon Thomas repeatedly over Pharaoh Sanders’ wailing saxophone^[2]Which Leon Thomas also performed with Louis Armstrong, with expanded lyrics, by the way.. And this line is more than mere pie-in-the-sky day-dreaming, no; this assurance that there is a plan–and a supreme Creator ultimately in charge of executing it–is how we develop the spiritual strength and wherewithall to fight to make this world a better place. “Wherefore, whoso believeth in God might with surety hope for a better world,” reads the Book of Mormon’s own Ether 12:6, “yea, even a place at the right hand of God, which hope cometh of faith, maketh an anchor to the souls of men, which would make them sure and steadfast, always abounding in good works, being led to glorify God.” It is not the cynics who change the world, but (as both GK Chesterton and his frenemy GB Shaw once noted) the idealists, who have the wherewithal to remain outraged and engaged when things go oh so very wrong—repeatedly and endlessly—because they correctly feel that this is simply not how the world was meant to be.

I mean, consider what a black man recording “The Creator Has a Master Plan” in 1969 has already gone through up to this point in his life.^[3]And forgive me for assuming that my audience here must be predominantly white, but, well, this is an LDS website after all. Born in 1940, Farrell Sanders was raised in Jim Crow Arkansas, the grandchild of literal slaves. Surrounded since his earliest memories by flagrant racism and blatant segregation, he adopts the stage-name of “Pharaoh” in part to re-create a connection back to his ancestral Africa and innate sense “somebodiness,” which had been cruelly deprived him and his ancestors by the transatlantic slave trade. He comes of age during the Civil Rights movement, which he primarily witnesses through the prism of police brutality, filibustering in Congress^[4]Sound familiar?, and white supremacist violence on the regular^[5]Not to mention, there’s this little church based out west that wouldn’t have ordained him to the priesthood even if he’d even wanted.. And sure, he in short order got to see the passage of the 24th Amendment, the Civil Rights Act of 1964, and the Voting Rights Acts of 1965; but he also while yet in his 20s lived through the assassinations of Malcolm X, Martin Luther King, Jr., JFK, RFK, ensuing race riots in every major American city, and the adoption of the dog-whistling “Southern Strategy” by Nixon. In 1969, the gains his people have made are precarious^[6]And given how the Voting Rights Act was gutted by SCOTUS in 2016, still are., and reactionary elements are already retaliating viciously against them.^[7]Seriously, the first thing Alabama did after SCOTUS gutted the Voting Rights Act was pass a Voter ID law requiring a Drivers License, then closed half the DMVs in the state–primarily in black … Continue reading

So why does he compose such an upbeat, spiritual song here? Mere escapism? Wishful thinking? No, this is a form of resistance–an assurance that they will ultimately prevail because the Creator is on their side, has instituted a divine plan on their side, and has demanded peace and happiness for everyone, not just the privileged, not just the dominant ethnic group, but everyone. It is that literal “hope for a better world” that “maketh an anchor to the soul, always abounding in good works,” even when things are falling apart—especially when things are falling apart (Moroni had already beheld the utter collapse of his civilization when he wrote those words, recall).

“The Creator makes but one demand,” sings Leon Thomas, which, although cheerfully delivered, still belies the fact that this song is ultimately not just a celebration, but a threat: conform to the Great Plan of Happiness–ensure peace and happiness for every man–or beware the wrath of a just God. Happiness itself can thus be a form of resistance, a way of affirming what this wicked world should look like, and must, and will.