Delving into the Past: Understanding Family History and Genealogical Consciousness

More than just a hobby for retirees or distant relatives, genealogical consciousness offers a profound way to understand our place in the world and our responsibility to the generations that came before and will come after us. It’s about recognizing the enduring connections that bind families across time.

Today, I want to share two stories with you. One is a brief, perhaps lighter, tale about departed cats, and the other is a more substantial narrative concerning those who have passed on – our ancestors.

A Feline Reflection on Lasting Bonds

Let’s begin with the dead cats. I understand stories starting with deceased felines might seem cliché, but please indulge me.

My parents held vastly different perspectives on pets. My mother was raised in a home where animals were not allowed inside, while my father grew up in a household that welcomed pets, even a monkey at one point. Over their long marriage, they reached a compromise: smaller, caged pets like hamsters, snakes, frogs, toads, and fish were permitted indoors. Larger animals, such as cats, dogs, and livestock, remained outside in the garage, doghouse, or chicken coop. Dogs were kept contained, but cats enjoyed a degree of freedom. Of course, this freedom was contingent on me not capturing them and dressing them in doll clothes—a fate they often met with a mix of apprehension and reluctant acceptance.

When I was very young, we lived on a busy corner with constant traffic. This, combined with our pet policy, meant that cats—an seemingly endless stream of them found their way to our home—rarely lived to a ripe old age. I grew fond of these cats and grieved their passing. Eventually, I started to memorize the names and appearances of all the cats who had lived, loved, and ultimately met their end at our house. However, the sheer number of memories and names became overwhelming. Concerned, I asked my mother if all these cats would greet us in heaven and if they would remember us, and we them. She reassured me that they would—that the cats would remember me, and I them. Forever.

The true impact of this story isn’t really about the cats themselves. It’s about my mother’s comforting assurance that relationships endure, much like photographs capture moments that extend beyond their fleeting existence. Relationships are resilient and significant—even beyond death. This concept was fundamental to my upbringing. As the youngest of nine children, I was born after three of my four grandparents, several cousins, and my brother had already passed away. Knowing that death was not an insurmountable barrier to knowing these individuals brought profound comfort and stability.

In a way, this early understanding of relationships has shaped my professional life. I have dedicated my adult life to studying relationships, particularly family relationships, and the powerful influence they wield—for better or worse—in shaping social, economic, religious, political, material, and emotional realities and possibilities. My research primarily focuses on eighteenth-century England. Essentially, I study dead people and the lessons they can impart. As Thomas W. Laqueur eloquently stated:

The history . . . of the dead is a history of how they dwell in us—individually and communally. It is a history of how we imagine them to be, how they give meaning to our lives. . . . It is a history . . . of how we invest the dead . . . with meaning.

My research has revealed much about the significance of social and familial connections both in the past and in our present day, as well as their often-underestimated potential to positively influence society and provide solutions to complex challenges.

Amy Harris

Unearthing Stories of the Past: The Tale of William Dade

Let’s delve into the lives of some of these “dead people.” I want to introduce you to a particular individual: William Dade. Born in Yorkshire, England, in late 1740 or early 1741, William’s parents, who married in their early thirties, already had three children when he arrived. His father was the local vicar, holding multiple parishes, which provided a comfortable upbringing for William and his siblings—a sister and two brothers—typical of the genteel “middling sort” of English society.

William received his education at Yorkshire schools, requiring him to live away from home for extended periods. Following in their father’s footsteps, William and his older brother, Thomas, attended the University of Cambridge and then entered the clergy. Their mother passed away when William was twelve, and their father when William was eighteen, around the time he began his studies at Cambridge. Two years later, their brother John died at the age of twenty-two and was buried alongside their parents in the parish church where their father had served as vicar. A memorial to their family, likely commissioned by William and his surviving siblings, still stands in the church today, a testament to their enduring Family History.

At the time of his father’s death, Thomas, twenty-four and unmarried, had already been ordained, and his twenty-three-year-old sister, Mary, also single, likely lived with him, or possibly with William, who left Cambridge that same year. Within two years, William secured his own parish in York at the young age of twenty-two.

So far, this is a fairly ordinary narrative of an eighteenth-century English family. Their parents marrying in their early thirties was not unusual for the time. It was also not uncommon for children to predecease their parents, although infant and childhood mortality were more prevalent than death in young adulthood, as in the case of William’s brother.

Children from most social classes, regardless of wealth, typically left home in their mid-teens for work or education, as the Dade brothers did. This included many young women, except those from the gentry or aristocracy. Similarly, the Dade siblings being unmarried in their mid-twenties was not unusual for their generation, which also saw a significant number of people who never married—around 15 to 20 percent in the mid-eighteenth century. (In comparison, current UK statistics indicate that only 4 to 9 percent of the population never marries or enters into a civil partnership.)

The brothers following their father into the clergy was also typical. Between a quarter and a third of eighteenth-century English clergymen were sons of clergymen, reflecting the strong socioeconomic distinctions and inequalities of the era.

Sibling relationships were also crucial, as they were in the Dade family. With parents marrying later and dying relatively young, siblinghood became the most central and lasting family bond for the Dade siblings and many others during this period. Siblings relied on each other for various forms of support—material, social, and emotional. These relationships, with their own complexities and dynamics, held significant solidarity and influence.

Sibling bonds continue to be powerful today. A quick online search for “siblings photos” reveals countless images of adult siblings in matching outfits—a tradition rarely seen outside of sports teams! While the matching outfits might be unusual today, the underlying importance of sibling relationships resonates across centuries.

Like today, eighteenth-century siblings were lifelong companions, but unlike today, they often formed the core of family relationships. Siblings often came before spouses and children—who often arrived later in life, if at all—and outlived parents who frequently died before their children reached thirty.

These relationships were not without their challenges; siblings argued and struggled. Navigating these lifelong, yet unchosen, relationships with their inherent expectations was not always easy. As one eighteenth-century man wrote to his brother:

Three wise words from your lips made me think you an inhabitant of another country. . . . You have the art to set me at a distance by three words when I am with you, and to draw me to you at a hundred miles off by the same method.

Returning to William Dade, his life up to his late twenties was fairly ordinary. However, in 1770, as he entered his thirties, he made a remarkable decision. He believed that Church of England parish registers should contain more comprehensive information than was customary. He aimed to improve “the imperfect method hitherto generally pursued.” While this might not sound groundbreaking, it was a significant development with untapped potential to enrich our understanding of family history and the past.

Dade’s Vision for Parish Records: A Gift to Future Generations

To understand the significance of William Dade’s parish registers, we need some context. English church registers originated after Henry VIII’s break with Rome and the establishment of the Church of England in the 1530s. From then until the eighteenth century, baptism, marriage, and burial entries typically contained minimal information. Baptism records might only include the child’s name, baptism date, and father’s name. Compared to registers in continental Europe, English registers were quite sparse. For example, a Spanish record from 1764 included not only the child’s and father’s names but also the mother’s (including maiden name), both sets of grandparents’ names, and the godparents’ names. Even in the early eighteenth century, English registers only marginally improved, with the occasional inclusion of the mother’s first name or extra details like the child’s birthdate or the father’s occupation.

William Dade himself benefited from a more detailed christening record because his father was a vicar. The priest included William’s father’s occupation and residence, although his mother’s name was still omitted.

Initially, Dade followed standard practice as a curate, recording only limited information in parish registers. But in 1770, he began to record more details, such as the father’s occupation, residence, and family connections. He encouraged other vicars and rectors to do the same. While some adopted his method, its widespread adoption was boosted when the Archbishop of York promoted the practice throughout the diocese in 1777. However, compliance was varied, with many vicars resisting or abandoning the practice after a short period. Even William’s brother, Thomas, showed no evidence of implementing this expanded record-keeping in his parishes.

Dade also developed an interest in local history, possibly inspired by his exposure to the old records in parish churches. He was admitted to the Society of Antiquaries in 1783 and began writing two books: one on the local history of Holderness, where he had attended school, and another listing births, marriages, and deaths of prominent individuals.

Dade’s distinction wasn’t just in keeping better records; other clergy shared similar interests. His shift to more detailed record-keeping wasn’t primarily driven by historical interest but by a concern for the future. As he noted in the register when he began his initiative, “This scheme if properly put in execution will afford much clearer intelligence to the researches of posterity than the imperfect method hitherto generally pursued.” He believed future families would want to know more about their past, their personal family history. Dade’s motivation was rooted in future generations and their needs. He was thinking about how his actions would resonate beyond his own lifetime, impacting the lives of strangers yet to be born.

This concept aligns with what Ari Wallach calls “transgenerational thinking” in a recent TED talk. Wallach describes an ethic that extends beyond personal comfort, considering how our actions ripple into the future, far beyond our individual lifespan.

The Human Instinct for Future and Connection: Cornerstones of Family History

Dade’s actions and Wallach’s concept highlight two fundamental human traits: the capacity to envision and plan for the future, and the innate desire and ability to connect with and consider strangers. The ability to think ahead and understand how today’s actions will shape tomorrow is a uniquely human characteristic.

Psychologist Daniel Gilbert aptly summarizes this: “We think about the future in a way that no other animal can, does, or ever has, and this simple, ubiquitous, ordinary act is a defining feature of our humanity.” According to Gilbert, no chimpanzee “weeps at the thought of growing old alone, or smiles as it contemplates its summer vacation, or turns down a Fudgsicle because it already looks too fat in shorts.” Only humans possess this capacity, although we don’t always utilize it effectively for ourselves or others.

Another distinguishing human trait is our ability to cooperate with strangers and act in their best interests, even when it contradicts our own. This capacity for cooperation and altruism is a remarkable achievement of humanity. Evolutionary biologists emphasize that we are inherently wired to cooperate with others—not just relatives or acquaintances, but countless strangers. Humans have developed a unique capacity to care and have compassion for strangers, to take responsibility for them. We are, in essence, built to belong to one another.

Without this ability, forming effective groups larger than 150 people would be impossible. However, with it, we can harness the power of millions, even billions. When we neglect this capacity for caring in large groups, issues like suicide, addiction, unhappiness, and greed proliferate. But when we embrace this impulse, large human groups are capable of immense goodness. While we are built for compassion, care, and love, we also have the capacity for failings, weaknesses, and acting against our best instincts. Yet, the fact remains that we are designed to cooperate and belong not just to our kin but to all humanity.

Across diverse fields—atheism, philosophy, history, podcasting, Holocaust survival, writing, therapy, military service, ministry, and psychology—a consensus emerges: building lasting relationships and connections is essential for a happy and meaningful life. Figures like atheist author Alain de Botton, On Being podcast host Krista Tippett, concentration camp survivor Viktor Frankl, Christian social worker Brené Brown, war veteran and journalist Sebastian Junger, historian of Mormon theology Samuel Brown, Congregationalist historian Margaret Bendroth, Methodist founder John Wesley, and BYU psychology professor Brent Slife, despite their varied backgrounds, converge on the same point: loving and connecting with others is humanity’s most crucial endeavor—not merely a byproduct, but the very purpose of life. In Slife’s words, love for others must be “an end, not . . . a means.” And John Wesley stated, “The gospel of Christ knows of no religion but social; no holiness but social holiness.”

Genealogical Consciousness: Connecting Across Time

This exploration into seemingly unrelated fields demonstrates that William Dade, in his reasons for enhancing parish registers, tapped into the universal human ability to think about the future and the inclination to connect and belong. In this sense, he wasn’t extraordinary, as his actions are replicable. However, his exceptionality lay in combining these two human traits. While others emphasized relationships or future planning, Dade did both simultaneously. He considered relationships across time—vast stretches of time—and extended his concern beyond personal acquaintance to encompass strangers.

Many before him focused on famous ancestors, posterity, or lineage for social status. Dade, however, connected his interest in the past to the everyday lives of people whose details filled his registers and linked that to the needs and desires of future strangers. This is more than transgenerational thinking; it is what I term genealogical consciousness.

Genealogical consciousness is an ethic, a moral framework rooted in seeing oneself and one’s actions as intrinsically linked with the lives and hopes of people across past, present, and future. Dade’s hope that future genealogists would have “clearer intelligence” might seem like a small gift, but its true power lies in his recognition of connection—between himself and future strangers. He saw them as people, not abstractions, worthy of his effort, even without personal reward.

Genealogical consciousness means recognizing the interconnectedness of past, present, and future—not abstractly, but in the lived realities of thinking, feeling individuals—and how we are all linked across time and space. This resonates with Margaret Bendroth’s idea:

Instead of defining ourselves through associations with once-famous people, or taking our ancestors too lightly by assuming they were not as complex as we are, we should want an encounter with the past that will challenge and deepen [us].

Similarly, we need an encounter with the future that challenges and deepens us.

The Universal Desire to Be Remembered and Connect

Most people desire to be remembered, to leave a lasting legacy, regardless of its scale. As Umberto Eco noted, “We [make] lists because we don’t want to die.” Indeed, historical records, monuments, and memorials are expressions of this hope for remembrance. What else would motivate someone building a house in 1951 to write their name on plaster that would be covered, if not a hope for a form of immortality through their work?

But Dade wasn’t seeking personal recognition. He was thinking of us—future strangers—and our need to belong and connect to something larger and more enduring than ourselves.

The posterity William Dade envisioned benefiting from his work was not his own. He remained childless until his death in 1790, as did his sister and surviving brother. The detailed records of Dade’s and his sister’s deaths, in contrast to the more typical, brief record of his brother’s burial, show that Dade’s innovation had limited immediate impact. He and his family faded into relative obscurity. In fact, despite his significance to English genealogy, his family was not collectively represented in major online family tree collections until recently, when I researched and organized the Dade family files on FamilySearch.

It wasn’t just knowledge of Dade’s family that diminished. Despite some clergy adopting Dade’s methods, his innovative approach didn’t endure. The practice largely disappeared after 1813 when regulations for Church of England registers changed, requiring preprinted books that restricted the flexibility Dade’s system needed. While some vicars attempted to squeeze extra information into the printed forms, the practice largely vanished. And beyond family history researchers, William Dade remains largely unknown—until now.

However, the spirit of genealogical consciousness lived on. Figures like Joseph Smith, Wilford Woodruff, and Susa Young Gates, drawing upon their religious and spiritual experiences, expanded this vision to encompass all humanity across time, emphasizing our interconnectedness with each other and with the divine.

Susa Young Gates: A Champion of Genealogical Consciousness

We should acknowledge the remarkable contributions of Susa Young Gates, whose work is often less recognized than Joseph Smith’s or Wilford Woodruff’s. A prominent leader in the late nineteenth and early twentieth-century Mormon community, instrumental in creating the Young Woman’s Journal and the Relief Society Magazine, and a suffrage activist, Gates was also deeply passionate about genealogy. In the 1890s, she gathered information from living relatives and conducted archival research in the East.

In 1902, after a serious illness and a blessing, Gates was told she would continue temple work and “do a greater work than [she had] ever done before.” This blessing shifted her perspective from personal genealogical pursuits to a deep commitment to genealogical consciousness. She wrote that while already interested in temple work, she now “felt that I must do something more, something to help all the members of the Church.” After this turning point, Gates became a powerful advocate for genealogical efforts for others.

While the Church had established the Genealogical Society of Utah (GSU) (now the Family History Department) in 1894 and had genealogical libraries in temples, there was no Church-wide genealogical education or training program at the turn of the twentieth century. Gates collaborated with the GSU, published genealogical articles, improved temple ordinance indexing, founded the Daughters of Utah Pioneers, wrote genealogy lessons, authored the first genealogical how-to manual in the United States in 1912, and made family history central to the Relief Society’s work. She dedicated two decades to this until the Church gradually assumed greater responsibility and centralized genealogical efforts after the 1920s—her long-term goal.

Gates’s tenacity stemmed from her strong character, but I believe it was fueled by genealogical consciousness—a power that arose when she felt a calling to serve people beyond her own family.

Beyond Genealogical Knowledge: Embracing Empathy

So, what does genealogical consciousness mean for us today? Some might assume a religious audience is inherently genealogically conscious. However, I argue that while many may possess genealogical knowledge or even a genealogically-based identity, these are distinct from genealogical consciousness. Genealogical consciousness brings an empathetic wisdom that knowledge alone cannot provide.

Genealogical knowledge, for me, is captivating. Filling out family trees since childhood and uncovering genealogical information is inherently satisfying. Many of you likely share this enthusiasm. And while this group can and should grow, it’s unlikely to become the majority.

The encouraging news is that a much larger group is interested in what genealogy can offer them and their families. For instance, it’s estimated that a third of adults in the UK have searched for their ancestors online. This widespread interest is often attributed to genealogy’s ability to provide a sense of identity. Indeed, identity is a central focus in contemporary Western genealogy, driving the multi-billion-dollar genealogy industry and influencing aspects of religious genealogical practices.

However, William Dade and Susa Young Gates went beyond personal identity. Finding an anchor for identity is valuable, offering a sense of rootedness in a seemingly rootless world—even replacing religion for some as a source of belief. But identity alone provides only partial belonging.

Focusing on “endless genealogies” to assert special status is not only tedious but, as the Apostle Paul warned, potentially destructive. And Jesus Christ cautioned that lineage from Abraham was meaningless without a corresponding way of living.

If genealogy stops at individual identity, it will never fully overcome its exclusionary tendencies. Genealogy’s historical association with elitism and racism demonstrates how easily it can slip into tribalism, eugenics, racism, isolationist nationalism, and “us-versus-them” mentalities. Focusing solely on our own ancestry can lead to a narrow view where only our ancestors matter. We become fixated on divisions. Genealogical consciousness, conversely, not only avoids these pitfalls but actively prevents them. It can dismantle destructive boundaries, reminding us that there is no true “them,” only “us,” and uniting people despite differences.

Seeing genealogical knowledge and even identity as tools, means to a greater end, moves us toward genealogical consciousness. We often prioritize knowledge over wisdom, focusing on accumulating names and information rather than truly understanding the individuals behind those names. This pursuit of knowledge without understanding is exhausting and misses the real purpose—to connect with and know our ancestors. As Philippians states, if there is “any consolation from love” or “any compassion and sympathy,” we should find them in each other, acting with humility and regarding others as better than ourselves.

Embracing True Genealogical Consciousness: Empathy and Connection

True genealogical consciousness transcends knowledge or identity seeking. It compels us to pause, reflect, and engage with the lives and choices of others, both past and present. We can imagine our shared humanity with those in the past and the challenges they faced.

I recall reading the papers of the Travell family in an English archive. Discovering an entry in Anne Travell’s 1780 diary about the sudden death of her “dear sister[-in-law] and friend” Martha at age forty-one moved me to tears. Initially, I paused, realizing everyone from 1780 is deceased. But then, I recognized my tears were not for Martha’s death itself, but for the pain it caused her family and friends. Anne described spending the evening writing twenty “dreadful” letters to inform loved ones. I could vividly imagine her grief and the profound loss of a lifelong friend and sister-in-law—someone I had come to know through her letters. I considered the devastating impact of losing a sibling or sibling-in-law in my own life. In that moment, time and distance seemed to vanish, replaced by a fleeting sense of connection and empathy.

By pausing to consider those long deceased, like Dade, we can shift our focus to present and future relationships. As Margaret Bendroth suggests:

The choice is not to load our ancestors down with honors or run away from them as fast as we can—our . . . faith requires us to take the past seriously and to receive its people warmly and wisely. It requires us to be generous, and in a fundamental way truly inclusive.

Developing genealogical consciousness necessitates thinking about strangers in the past, fostering the ability to consider strangers in the present and future. It prompts us to recognize how our relationships and actions extend beyond our lifetime, impacting future generations. Genealogical consciousness demands compassion and a more Christlike approach to life.

In conclusion, let me explain my title. As an eighteenth-century historian, I’m accustomed to the lengthy, narrative titles common in that era. And as a children’s literature enthusiast, I appreciate titles like E. L. Konigsburg’s Jennifer, Hecate, Macbeth, William McKinley, and Me, Elizabeth.

While these influences explain the narrative style of my title, they don’t explain the content, or the “dead cats.” Why not simply title this talk “Developing Genealogical Consciousness”? I suspected—from experience—that using “genealogy” or “family history” in the title for a general audience might deter those who feel genealogy is irrelevant or overwhelming. I wanted to reach those who might not see the value in genealogical pursuits, or who feel burdened by the topic. I aimed to offer a new perspective.

Our shared theology is rich with genealogical consciousness and its potential for positive change. As Patrick Q. Mason describes:

This [Mormon] image of being knit together, with the children of God in all our diversity inextricably and intricately interwoven, is at the heart of Mormonism’s social ideal. It reflects a life-affirming theology predicated on the notion that the entire family of God can and will be eternally bound together—that heaven is less about where we are than who we are with and the quality of our relationships.

Genealogical consciousness is a term to emphasize that relationships with people—past, present, and future—are enduring and offer untapped divine power. We can no longer treat genealogy as a niche activity or simply a numbers game for temple work. If that’s our motivation, that’s our only reward.

Genealogical consciousness is more than a hobby; it’s a way of being, a way of understanding our place and responsibility within the continuum of generations. It promises to dismantle prejudice, heal divisions, and foster unity. It can transform our innate desire to belong, moving us beyond tribalism towards a more inclusive and connected future. If the return of Elijah is meant to prevent the world from utter desolation, then there is much more we can do with the spirit of genealogy.

Notes

Thomas W. Laqueur, The Work of the Dead: A Cultural History of Mortal Remains (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2015), 17; see Peter LLC, “Naming the Dead,” By Common Consent (blog), 27 June 2017, bycommonconsent.com/2017/06/27/naming-the-dead.
See baptism of Thomas Dade, 22 September 1736, Yorkshire, bishop’s transcripts of baptisms, Church of England, Rillington, Borthwick Institute for Archives, findmypast.co.uk; baptism of Mary Dade, 12 October 1737, Yorkshire bishop’s transcripts of baptisms, Church of England, Rillington, Borthwick Institute for Archives, findmypast.co.uk; baptism of John Dade, 6 February 1740, Yorkshire bishop’s transcripts, Church of England, St. Michael-le-Belfry, York, FHL film 7574348; baptism of William Dade, 26 January 1741, Yorkshire, bishop’s transcripts of baptisms, Church of England, Burton Agnes, Borthwick Institute for Archives, findmypast .co.uk.
W. M. Jacob, The Clerical Profession in the Long Eighteenth Century 1680–1840 (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2007), 39.
See entries for Thomas Dade and William Dade in J. A. Venn, comp., Alumni Cantabrigienses, part 2, from 1752 to 1900, vol. 2 (Cambridge: University Press, 1944), 210; also available at ancestry.co.uk.
See “Rev. Thomas Dade,” St. Martin’s Church, Burton Agnes, Yorkshire, England, memorial #102828684, findagrave.com/cgi-bin/fg.cgi?page =gr&GRid=102828684.
See Amy M. Froide, Never Married: Singlewomen in Early Modern England (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2005), 2.
See Joanne Bailey, Parenting in England 1760–1830: Emotion, Identity, and Generation (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2012), 39.
See Patrick Wallis, Cliff Webb, and Chris Minns, “Leaving Home and Entering Service: The Age of Apprenticeship in Early Modern London,” Continuity and Change 25, no. 3 (December 2010): 377–404.
I arrived at the 4 to 9 percent figure by using the UK Office for National Statistics 2014 report, specifically, “Marital Status by Age Group (Age 16 and Over), 2014,” which covered England and Wales. For those over the age of seventy-five, 4 to 4.6 percent were listed as single. For those between the ages of fifty-five and sixty-five, 8 to 10.4 percent were listed as single. If most of that latter group remains unmarried the rest of their lives (which is the most likely trajectory), then the percentage of those never marrying or partnering will inch up closer to 9 percent. (See “Population Estimates by Marital Status and Living Arrangements, England and Wales: 2002 to 2014,” Office for National Statistics, 8 July 2015, ons.gov.uk/peoplepopulationandcommunity/populationandmigration/populationestimates/bulletins/populationestimatesbymaritalstatusandlivingarrangements/2015-07-08).
See Jacob, The Clerical Profession, 38–41.
See Leonore Davidoff, Thicker Than Water: Siblings and Their Relations, 1780–1920 (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2012); also Amy Harris, Siblinghood and Social Relations in Georgian England: Share and Share Alike (Manchester: Manchester University Press, 2012).
George Cumberland to Richard Cumberland, 18 October 1778, in The Cumberland Letters: Being the Correspondence of Richard Dennison Cumberland and George Cumberland Between the Years 1771 and 1784, ed. Clementina Black (London: Martin Secker, 1912), 214.
William Dade, St. Helen’s, York, parish register, 1770; cited in FamilySearch Wiki, s.v. “Dade parish registers,” familysearch.org/wiki/en/Dade_parish_registers.
See Pasquala Francisca Jacinta Alarcon Y Briz, 11 September 1764, baptism, “España, Diócesis de Albacete, registros parroquiales, 1504–1979,” FamilySearch.org; citing Nuestra Señora de la Asunción, Jorquera, Albacete, Spain, Archivo Histórico de Archidiócesis de Albacete, Albacete (Albacete Archdiocese Historical Archives, Albacete); FHL microfilm 1,279,590.
See William Joseph Sheils, “Dade, William (bap. 1741, d. 1790),” Oxford Dictionary of National Biography (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2004–16), oxforddnb.com.
See Ackworth, Yorkshire, parish registers kept by Timothy Lee, 1744–77, West Yorkshire Archive Service, Wakefield, Yorkshire, D 77/3, in “West Yorkshire, England, Church of England Baptisms, Marriages and Burials, 1512–1812,” ancestry.com.
Dade, St. Helen’s, York, parish register; cited in FamilySearch Research Wiki, s.v. “Dade parish registers.”
Ari Wallach, “Three Ways to Plan for the (Very) Long Term,” Tedx Mid-Atlantic talk, October 2016, ted.com/talks/ari_wallach_3_ways_to_plan_for_the_very_long_term.
See Daniel Gilbert, Stumbling on Happiness (New York: Knopf, 2006), 21–25.
Gilbert, Stumbling on Happiness, 4.
See Yuval Noah Harari, Sapiens: A Brief History of Humankind (New York: Harper, 2015), 25, 38.
See Sebastian Junger, Tribe: On Homecoming and Belonging (New York: Twelve, 2016), xvi.
See Junger, Tribe,25–27.
See Mosiah 2–4.
See Dacher Keltner, Born to Be Good: The Science of a Meaningful Life (New York: W. W. Norton, 2009); also Christopher Bergland, “The Evolutionary Biology of Altruism,” The Athlete’s Way (blog), Psychology Today, 25 December 2012, psychologytoday.com/blog/the-athletes-way /201212/the-evolutionary-biology-altruism.
Brent D. Slife, “The Experience of Love and the Limitations of Psychological Explanation,” BYU forum address, 16 May 2017.
John Wesley and Charles Wesley, Hymns and Sacred Poems (London: Strahan, 1743), preface, page v. My thanks to Rachel Cope, who exposed me to this line of Methodist thinking.
Margaret Bendroth, The Spiritual Practice of Remembering (Grand Rapids, Michigan: Eerdmans, 2013), 10.
Umberto Eco, from an interview with Suzanne Beyer and Lothar Gorris, “We Like Lists Because We Don’t Want to Die,” Spiegel Online, 11 November 2009, spiegel.de/international/zeitgeist/spiegel-interview-with-umberto-eco-we-like-lists-because-we-don-t-want-to-die-a-659577.html; quoted in Laqueur, Work of the Dead, 374.
See death of William Dade, 26 July 1790, Yorkshire burials transcription, Church of England, Barmston, East Riding Archives and Local Studies Service, PE6/4, findmypast.co.uk;death of Mary Dade, 20 April 1782, Yorkshire burials transcription, Church of England, St. Mary Castlegate, Borthwick Institute for Archives, PR Y/MC 138, findmypast.co.uk; burial of Thomas Dade, 24 November 1806, Yorkshire burials transcription, Church of England, Burton Agnes, East Riding Archives and Local Studies Service, PE60/2, findmypast.co.uk.
See Richard E. Turley Jr., “The Latter-day Saint Doctrine of Baptism for the Dead,” BYU family history fireside, 9 November 2001, cfhg.byu.edu/pdf/firesides/2001-11-09.pdf.
“Susa Young Gates,” Utah Genealogical and Historical Magazine 24, no. 3 (July 1933): 98; cited in Lisa Olsen Tait, “Susa Young Gates and the Vision of the Redemption of the Dead: D&C 138,” Church History: Revelations in Context, 14 August 2015, history.lds.org/article/susa-young-gates-vision-of-redemption?lang=eng.
“Susa Young Gates,” 99; also in Tait, “Susa Young Gates.”
See Deborah Cohen, Family Secrets: Shame and Privacy in Modern Britain (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2013), 258.
See Cohen, Family Secrets,264.
1 Timothy 1:4; see Titus 3:9.
See Matthew 3:9; John 8:33.
4 Nephi 1:17.
See 2 Timothy 3:7.
Philippians 2:1, 3 (New Revised Standard Version).
Anne Travell, day book, 27 August 1780, Lloyd-Baker Family of Hardwicke Court Collection, Gloucestershire Archives, D4582/4/17.
Travell, day book, 27 August 1780.
Bendroth, The Spiritual Practice, 97.
Patrick Q. Mason, Planted: Belief Belonging in an Age of Doubt (Salt Lake City: Deseret Book, 2015), 171.

See the complete list of abbreviations here

Amy HarrisAmy Harris, BYU associate professor of history, delivered this forum address on July 18, 2017.

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