The Revelation That Wasn’t a Commandment:
How a Cup of Coffee Came to Guard the Gates of Mormon Heaven
“But sanctify the Lord God in your hearts: and be ready always to give an answer to every man that asketh you a reason of the hope that is in you with meekness and fear.” — 1 Peter 3:15
❦ ❦ ❦
Introduction: A Revelation Born in a Cloud of Smoke
Picture the scene. It is the winter of 1833 in Kirtland, Ohio, and roughly two dozen men are crammed into a small upstairs room of the Newel K. Whitney mercantile store. They have come to be trained as missionaries in Joseph Smith’s School of the Prophets. The first order of business each morning, by the recollection of the men themselves, is not prayer. It is tobacco. Pipes are lit, the room fills with smoke so thick that the Prophet can scarcely be seen through the haze, and when the pipes burn out, the chewing begins — with the juice spat freely across the floorboards. Brigham Young, who told the story decades later, remembered the sequence vividly:
When they assembled together in this room after breakfast, the first they did was to light their pipes, and, while smoking, talk about the great things of the kingdom, and spit all over the room, and as soon as the pipe was out of their mouths a large chew of tobacco would then be taken. Often when the Prophet entered the room to give the school instructions he would find himself in a cloud of tobacco smoke. This, and the complaints of his wife at having to clean so filthy a floor, made the Prophet think upon the matter, and he inquired of the Lord relating to the conduct of the Elders in using tobacco, and the revelation known as the Word of Wisdom was the result of his inquiry.
— Brigham Young, Journal of Discourses 12:158
From that stained floor — and from the frustration of Emma Smith, upon whom the thankless task of scrubbing it fell — came what is today one of the most visible identity markers in American religion. Doctrine and Covenants 89, the “Word of Wisdom,” is the reason the world knows that Latter-day Saints do not drink coffee, tea, or alcohol, nor use tobacco. It is the reason a returned missionary flips his coffee cup upside down at a diner. It is the reason a believing grandmother cannot enter the temple to see her granddaughter married if she keeps a coffee pot on the back of her stove. It stands guard at the doors of baptism, of missionary service, of temple worship, and — because temple ordinances are required for exaltation in Latter-day Saint theology — functionally at the doors of the celestial kingdom itself.
And yet the revelation announces in its own second verse that it is not a commandment. Its original text permits beer and sacramental wine. Its author operated a bar in his own home and drank wine on the last day of his life. Its central prohibitions mirror, almost to the week, the rhetoric of the American temperance movement swirling around Kirtland in February 1833. Its health claims have been overtaken — and in the case of coffee and tea, flatly contradicted — by modern medical research. And the church that canonized it has spent nearly two centuries revising, reinterpreting, narrowing, expanding, and explaining it, until the thing enforced today at the temple recommend desk bears only a partial resemblance to the words Joseph Smith dictated.
This essay examines the Word of Wisdom from a traditional Christian perspective. Our aim is not to mock Latter-day Saints, millions of whom keep this code with real sacrifice and sincere devotion that any Christian can respect. We aim to ask the questions the revelation itself invites: Where did it come from? What does it actually say? Why has it changed so much? Does it deliver what it promises? Is there any biblical warrant for it? And what does its strange career — from friendly counsel, to ignored ideal, to absolute gate of salvation — tell us about the nature of revelation in the Latter-day Saint tradition? The apostle Peter charged believers to be ready always to give an answer, “with meekness and fear” (1 Peter 3:15). In that spirit, we proceed.
❦ ❦ ❦
I. The World of 1833: Temperance in the Air
No revelation falls from a clear sky, and the Word of Wisdom fell from a sky positively thick with temperance rhetoric. Early nineteenth-century America was, by any measure, a drinking nation. The church’s own historical essay, published in its Revelations in Context series, candidly reports that American consumption of distilled spirits climbed from roughly two and a half gallons per person in 1790 to seven gallons in 1830 — the highest level in American history and about three times the modern rate. Alcohol was served at breakfast, lunch, and dinner; whiskey was cheaper than milk in parts of the frontier; and the British novelist Frances Trollope quipped in 1832 that she had scarcely met an American man who was not a tobacco chewer or a whiskey drinker.
The backlash was equally vigorous. Quakers and Methodists had counseled abstinence from hard liquor since the 1780s. Lyman Beecher’s famous sermons against intemperance appeared in 1826, the same year the American Temperance Society was founded in Boston; by the mid-1830s, the Society counted over a million members, many of them signing full-abstinence pledges — the origin of the word “teetotaler.” Local chapters sprang up by the thousands, and Kirtland, Ohio, had its own temperance society, organized in 1830, shortly before the Latter-day Saints arrived from New York. In February 1833 — the very month of the revelation — the temperance forces of Kirtland succeeded in shutting down the local distillery.
Nor was the movement confined to alcohol. Health reformers such as Sylvester Graham (of graham cracker fame) and William A. Alcott toured the country through the late 1820s and 1830s, preaching against alcohol, tobacco, coffee, tea, and excessive meat-eating, while extolling grains, fruits, and vegetables in season. Popular health manuals of the period — Means of Preserving Health (1806), Simplicity of Health (1829), the Philadelphia Journal of Health (1830) — contain, point for point, virtually every dietary element that would appear in Doctrine and Covenants 89: avoidance of spirits, tobacco, coffee, and tea; sparing use of meat; fruits in their season; grain as the staff of life. As the critical compendium at LDS Discussions summarizes the matter, every concept in the Word of Wisdom was already circulating in Joseph Smith’s environment, framed in the very vocabulary of the temperance movement, where “strong drink,” “hot drinks,” and “mild drinks” were the standard terms of art.
Even the timing is arresting. February 26, 1833, was observed as a national day of temperance, with meetings and publicity across the United States. The next day, February 27, Joseph Smith dictated the Word of Wisdom. The church’s own materials, to their credit, no longer deny this cultural saturation. The Revelations in Context essay concedes the overlap and then dismisses the difficulty in a single sentence — “Such concerns are unwarranted” — arguing that God’s Spirit was being poured out on temperance reformers and prophets alike. The traditional Christian will want to press harder. A revelation that repeats what the surrounding culture was already saying, in the surrounding culture’s own vocabulary, the day after the surrounding culture’s national observance, requires something more than a wave of the hand to establish its heavenly origin. The most economical explanation of the Word of Wisdom is not that God ratified the American Temperance Society; it is that Joseph Smith absorbed it.
❦ ❦ ❦
II. How the Revelation Came: A Complaint, a Joke, and a Convenient Answer
The canonical account of the revelation’s origin is disarmingly domestic. The heading the church itself prints above Section 89 states that the revelation came “as a consequence of the early brethren using tobacco in their meetings,” which concerned Emma Smith, whereupon Joseph inquired of the Lord. This is the sanitized version of the story Brigham Young told: Emma could not get the tobacco stains out of the floor, she complained, and Joseph asked God what to do about it.
David Whitmer — one of the Three Witnesses to the Book of Mormon, and a man who knew the Kirtland circle intimately — remembered the episode with an edge the church’s telling omits. In an 1886 interview, he described the scene this way:
Some of the men were excessive chewers of the filthy weed, and their disgusting slobbering and spitting caused Mrs. Smith … to make the ironical remark that ‘It would be a good thing if a revelation could be had declaring the use of tobacco a sin, and commanding its suppression.’ The matter was taken up and joked about, one of the brethren suggested that the revelation should also provide for a total abstinence from tea and coffee drinking, intending this as a counter ‘dig’ at the sisters.
— David Whitmer, Des Moines Daily News, October 16, 1886
If Whitmer’s late recollection is accurate — and it fits the pattern of the period remarkably well — then the Word of Wisdom began as banter: Emma’s sarcastic wish for a revelation against tobacco, answered by the men’s retaliatory joke that any such revelation ought to ban the women’s tea and coffee too. The next day, a revelation appeared banning precisely those things. One may believe that God chose to answer a household quarrel with binding scripture, or one may notice that this is exactly what a revelation looks like when it is composed by the man in the middle of the quarrel.
This is the deeper problem, and it extends far beyond Section 89. Students of the Doctrine and Covenants observe a consistent pattern in Joseph Smith’s revelatory output: a practical problem arises — a debt, a critic, a domestic dispute, an institutional need — and a revelation promptly arrives that resolves the problem, nearly always in a way convenient to Joseph Smith. The Word of Wisdom resolved Emma’s grievance, ended the tobacco mess in Joseph’s own “translation room,” aligned the young church with the respectable reform movements of the day, and did all of this while carefully exempting itself from the status of commandment — so that no one, including Joseph, would actually be bound by it. It was, in the fullest sense, a word of its moment rather than a word to the ages.
A revelation of health from the omniscient God of heaven, delivered to a people about to suffer terribly from contaminated water, had one piece of information that would have been genuinely priceless in 1833: boil your water. Waterborne pathogens, not coffee, were killing Americans; indeed, one practical reason the population drank so much cider, beer, coffee, and tea in the first place is that fermentation and boiling killed the microbes that raw water carried. The year after the Word of Wisdom was received, a cholera outbreak struck Zion’s Camp, sickening some sixty-eight Latter-day Saints and killing more than a dozen, including Joseph’s cousin Jesse Smith. A single sentence of germ theory — knowledge no one on earth possessed in 1833, and therefore knowledge that would have authenticated the revelation forever — was not given. What was given instead was a digest of the temperance pamphlets. The revelation knew exactly what Joseph Smith’s generation knew, no less and, tellingly, no more.
❦ ❦ ❦
III. What the Revelation Actually Says — and What It Does Not
Most Latter-day Saints, if pressed, will summarize the Word of Wisdom as “no alcohol, tobacco, coffee, or tea.” The text itself is stranger, looser, and considerably more generous than that summary. It deserves to be read closely, because the distance between what Joseph Smith dictated and what the modern church enforces is itself one of the strongest arguments against the revelation’s divine character.
“Not by commandment or constraint”
The revelation opens by defining its own legal status, and it could hardly be plainer:
To be sent greeting; not by commandment or constraint, but by revelation and the word of wisdom, showing forth the order and will of God in the temporal salvation of all saints in the last days — Given for a principle with promise, adapted to the capacity of the weak and the weakest of all saints, who are or can be called saints.
— Doctrine and Covenants 89:2–3
Counsel, not command; a principle adapted to the weakest, not a bar to fellowship. Whatever else may be said of it, the Word of Wisdom as dictated in 1833 explicitly disclaims the role it now plays. The modern church resolves this by teaching that later prophets elevated the counsel to a commandment — a claim we will examine below, but the reader should register the oddity at the outset: the only canonized text on the subject says one thing, and the enforced standard says another.
Wine, strong drink, and the forgotten permission of beer
Verses 5 through 7 discourage “wine or strong drink,” but with an explicit carve-out: wine may be used “in assembling yourselves together to offer up your sacraments,” provided it is pure wine of the Saints’ own making. Strong drink — in the temperance vocabulary of 1833, distilled liquor — is “not for the belly, but for the washing of your bodies.” Then, in verse 17, comes the clause that modern manuals pass over in silence: barley is ordained “for mild drinks, as also other grain.” In the idiom of the day, a “mild drink” made from barley meant exactly what it sounds like: beer. The revelation that today forbids a Latter-day Saint a single lager expressly commends the grain from which lager is brewed for the making of mild drinks. Latter-day Saints acted accordingly for two generations — sacramental wine remained in use into the 1890s, beer was tolerated, and Joseph Smith himself, as we shall see, drank both.
Tobacco for cattle, and the mystery of “hot drinks”
And again, tobacco is not for the body, neither for the belly, and is not good for man, but is an herb for bruises and all sick cattle, to be used with judgment and skill. And again, hot drinks are not for the body or belly.
— Doctrine and Covenants 89:8–9
Note what the text says and what it does not. Tobacco is condemned for internal use but recommended as a poultice for bruises and sick cattle — a piece of 1830s folk veterinary medicine with no standing today. And the famous prohibition is of “hot drinks,” full stop. The words “coffee” and “tea” appear nowhere in the revelation. That identification came later, by interpretation. Hyrum Smith supplied it in 1842:
And again “hot drinks are not for the body, or belly;” there are many who wonder what this can mean; whether it refers to tea, or coffee, or not. I say it does refer to tea, and coffee.
— Hyrum Smith, Times and Seasons, June 1, 1842
But early leaders did not stop there. George Q. Cannon of the First Presidency taught in 1868 that the ban on hot drinks encompassed “tea, coffee, chocolate, cocoa and all drinks of this kind,” and warned members against “hot soups” in the same breath (Journal of Discourses 12:221, 223). The trajectory since then has been pure improvisation: hot chocolate is now served in the shadow of Temple Square at Christmas; herbal tea is fine; iced coffee — which is not hot — will cost you a temple recommend; caffeinated cola — which contains the very stimulant supposedly at issue — is sold at Brigham Young University, whose board of trustees is the First Presidency. A revelation from the God who “is not the author of confusion” (1 Corinthians 14:33) should not require two centuries of committee work to determine whether it applies to a glass of iced tea.
Meat “only in times of winter, or of cold, or famine”
Yea, flesh also of beasts and of the fowls of the air, I, the Lord, have ordained for the use of man with thanksgiving; nevertheless they are to be used sparingly; and it is pleasing unto me that they should not be used, only in times of winter, or of cold, or famine.
— Doctrine and Covenants 89:12–13
Here is the portion of the revelation the modern church has quietly abandoned. For a century, leaders read verse 13 at face value: Brigham Young, George Q. Cannon, Lorenzo Snow, and Joseph F. Merrill all taught that meat was for winter, cold, and famine, and Lorenzo Snow pressed near-vegetarianism as the plain meaning of the text. Some leaders held pork-eating a graver breach than tea. Yet no Latter-day Saint today is asked at a recommend interview whether he ate a steak in July. Apologists at the Interpreter Foundation have produced whole treatises — A. Jane Birch’s “Getting into the Meat of the Word of Wisdom” runs to thirty-six pages — wrestling with what “times of winter” could mean in an age of central heating, and whether the comma inserted before “only” in the 1921 edition changed the sense of the verse. When a one-sentence dietary instruction requires punctuation forensics and a scholarly literature to determine what God meant, the traditional Christian is entitled to ask whether God said it at all.
The selective enforcement is not incidental; it is structural. The prohibitions that survived — alcohol, tobacco, coffee, tea — are the visible, social, boundary-marking ones. The counsel that withered — sparing meat, grain as the staff of life, fruit in season — is the private, dietary, unenforceable part. A health code would have kept the health provisions. An identity code keeps the identity provisions. The Word of Wisdom’s own history testifies to which one it became.
IV. A Revelation Under Perpetual Revision
If the Word of Wisdom were what the church claims — the fixed will of God for the health of His Saints — one would expect its meaning and application to be stable. Instead, its history is a two-century chronicle of reversal, escalation, and retrofit. A brief timeline makes the point.
1833–1851: Counsel, loosely kept. The revelation circulates as advice “not by commandment.” In February 1834, Joseph Smith persuaded the Kirtland high council to resolve that no official member is worthy of office after being taught the Word of Wisdom and neglecting it — and then, as we shall see, spends the next decade drinking wine, beer, and tea himself. The charge of “not observing the Word of Wisdom” is nonetheless deployed against David Whitmer in 1838 as one of the counts leading to his excommunication: the code is already less a health principle than a weapon of selective discipline.
1851: The vote. At a general conference on September 9, 1851, Brigham Young called for the congregation to covenant to leave off tobacco, whiskey, tea, and coffee, and threatened to “cut off from the Church” those who will not. Later leaders — Joseph Fielding Smith and Spencer W. Kimball among them — date the transformation of the counsel into a commandment to this vote. Yet the historian Robert J. McCue, surveying the diaries and sermons of the period in Dialogue, found the claim unsupportable: Brigham Young himself declined for the rest of his life to make the Word of Wisdom a test of fellowship, tolerated tobacco chewing in the Tabernacle until 1870, operated a Salt Lake City bar and distillery interests, and encouraged Saints to raise and sell tobacco rather than import it. His last personal secretary, George Q. Cannon, stated flatly in 1880 that the Word of Wisdom was not a commandment. If a prophet’s conference vote could turn divine counsel into divine law, no one told the prophets of the nineteenth century.
1851–1902: The era of comfortable neglect. Sacramental wine continues; pioneer supply lists for the trek west include coffee, tea, and alcohol as standard provisions; Heber C. Kimball grumbles in 1859 about the cost of keeping his household in coffee and tea. At the turn of the century the church’s own leading quorums are a portrait of moderation rather than abstinence: Apostle George Albert Smith takes brandy medicinally, First Presidency counselor Anthon H. Lund enjoys Danish beer and currant wine, counselor Charles W. Penrose occasionally serves wine, apostles Brigham Young Jr. and John Henry Smith argue in 1901 that the church ought not interdict beer, and Relief Society leader Emmeline B. Wells drinks her occasional cup of coffee. In 1902, Joseph F. Smith counsels stake presidents to be liberal in granting temple recommends to old men who use tobacco and old ladies who drink tea.
1919–1921: The clampdown. Under Heber J. Grant — a lifelong, ardent prohibitionist — adherence to the Word of Wisdom becomes a fixed prerequisite for a temple recommend. The timing is difficult to ignore: the Eighteenth Amendment establishing national Prohibition was ratified in January 1919 and took effect in January 1920; the church’s requirement followed immediately after. Historians have also observed that the Word of Wisdom hardened into an identity marker precisely as polygamy — the church’s previous badge of peculiarity — was being surrendered under federal pressure. Patrick Mason, then head of Mormon studies at Claremont Graduate University, described the code’s twentieth-century function as “a remarkably effective boundary maintenance device.” A boundary marker is exactly what it became: visible, social, and enforceable — everything a private dietary principle is not.
1921 to the present: Interpretation without end. The comma inserted before “only” in verse 13 in the 1921 edition; the caffeine wars, from Frederick J. Pack’s 1918 crusade against Coca-Cola, through Heber J. Grant’s 1922 plea — “I will ask it as a personal, individual favor to me, to let coca-cola alone” — and his quiet retreat after meeting with a Coca-Cola Company representative two years later; the 1972 Priesthood Bulletin advising against habit-forming drinks without naming cola; the 2012 Newsroom clarification that the revelation “does not mention the use of caffeine”; BYU’s 2017 decision to sell caffeinated soda after decades of refusal; and the August 2019 statement extending the Word of Wisdom to vaping, green tea, iced coffee, and recreational marijuana — substances the 1833 text never contemplated. Members on discussion boards noted, accurately, that Word of Wisdom policy had “silently changed” yet again. Each generation of Latter-day Saints has kept a different Word of Wisdom, and each has been assured that its version was the Lord’s fixed standard.
Here, the traditional Christian must make the central observation. This pattern — a revelation given, then reinterpreted, narrowed, expanded, and buttressed with volumes of explanatory apologetics as circumstances dictate — is not unique to Section 89. It is the characteristic life-cycle of Latter-day Saint revelation: plural marriage was everlasting until 1890; the priesthood ban was doctrine until 1978; the “new and everlasting covenant” meant polygamy until it meant temple marriage. A word from the eternal God does not require this maintenance. A word from a nineteenth-century man does. The sheer volume of clarification the Word of Wisdom has demanded is itself the measure of how nonessential — how humanly contingent — such dictates are within the Latter-day Saint system.
❦ ❦ ❦
V. The Prophet and His Own Revelation
No test of a revelation’s seriousness is more natural than the behavior of the man who received it. By that test, the Word of Wisdom fails spectacularly, because Joseph Smith did not keep it — not quietly, not occasionally, but openly and to the end of his life.
Three years after the revelation, at the Kirtland Temple period’s celebratory gatherings in January 1836, Joseph recorded of a wedding feast: “We then partook of some refreshments, and our hearts were made glad with the fruit of the vine” (History of the Church 2:369) — and days later, he cheerfully blessed three servers of wine at another wedding. In 1838, the Far West high council felt obliged to remind the Smith family, then keeping a tavern, of the local ban on selling ardent spirits. In Nauvoo, Joseph installed a bar in his own home, the Mansion House, under the management of Orrin Porter Rockwell; the enterprise ended only when Emma — the same Emma whose complaint had produced the revelation — threatened to leave, and history records that Joseph had sought a liquor license from the authorities. In 1835, Almon Babbitt, hauled before the high council for breaking the Word of Wisdom, defended himself by citing “the example of President Joseph Smith, Jun., and others” (History of the Church 2:252) — a defense nobody in the room appears to have contested on the facts.
Joseph’s own journal for June 1, 1844 — twenty-six days before his death — contains this unadorned entry:
Called at William Clayton’s … Drank a glass of beer at Moessers.
— Joseph Smith, Journal, June 1, 1844
When the church later compiled the History of the Church, that sentence was silently removed — a small editorial deletion that speaks loudly about what the compilers understood the entry to mean. And at the very end, in Carthage Jail on June 27, 1844, John Taylor — later the church’s third president — left an account that forecloses every pious reinterpretation:
Sometime after dinner we sent for some wine. It has been reported by some that this was taken as a sacrament. It was no such thing; our spirits were generally dull and heavy, and it was sent for to revive us … I believe we all drank of the wine, and gave some to one or two of the prison guards.
— John Taylor, History of the Church 7:101
Let the point be framed fairly. Under the revelation as Joseph dictated it — counsel, not commandment; beer a “mild drink”; wine permitted — none of this was hypocrisy. Joseph Smith kept the Word of Wisdom he wrote. What he did not keep, because it did not yet exist, is the Word of Wisdom that the church now enforces. The modern Latter-day Saint who would be denied a temple recommend for Joseph Smith’s documented June 1844 behavior is entitled to wonder which standard is the Lord’s: the one the prophet lived, or the one invented seventy-seven years after his death.
❦ ❦ ❦
VI. Do the Regulations Match Real Health Science?
The Word of Wisdom’s modern defenders lean heavily on its supposed medical prescience: Joseph Smith, they say, warned against tobacco and alcohol more than a century before the surgeon general. The claim deserves a fair and precise audit because it is partly true, largely trivial, and in its most distinctive particulars, false.
Where it is right. Tobacco is a catastrophe for human health, and total abstinence from alcohol eliminates real risks; the modern trend in the medical literature has run against even “moderate” drinking. Epidemiologist James Enstrom’s fourteen-year UCLA study of ten thousand California church members found death rates — including from cancer and cardiovascular disease — roughly half those of the general population, with life expectancy eight to eleven years longer among the most observant. Honesty requires conceding this. But honesty also requires noting what Enstrom’s own follow-up work showed: a comparison cohort of white, non-smoking, monogamous, churchgoing non-Mormons in Alameda County largely duplicated the results. The benefit belongs to not smoking, not drinking, and living a stable religious life — virtues the temperance movement was already preaching in 1833, and that Baptists, Adventists, and Muslims enjoy without Section 89. Nothing in the data requires a revelation; everything in it was already on the reformers’ placards.
Where it is wrong. The revelation’s one genuinely distinctive prohibition — the one no Christian tradition shares — is coffee and tea. And on this point, the medical verdict of the last generation has been humiliating for the revelation. The Mayo Clinic’s consumer summary states the consensus plainly: studies find that “coffee drinkers have a lower risk of death from any cause” than abstainers, and moderate coffee consumption is associated with reduced risk of Parkinson’s disease, type 2 diabetes, liver disease and liver cancer, kidney stones, stroke, and depression. Tea, rich in antioxidants, shows a similar profile. The one dietary rule that makes a Latter-day Saint visibly peculiar — the upside-down coffee cup — is a rule against two of the most consistently health-associated beverages in the modern epidemiological literature. Meanwhile, the substances the modern interpretation permits without comment — sugared sodas, energy-dense processed food, unlimited red meat — track precisely the chronic diseases that afflict the American church’s heartland. Utah’s cancer rates are admirably low; its rates of obesity, cardiovascular disease, and, notoriously, prescription drug dependence are not. A member may not sip green tea, but may drink a sixty-four-ounce sugared soda from a Utah “dirty soda” shop on the way home from the temple. Whatever this is, it is not a coherent health code.
The cruelest irony. Recall why early Americans drank cider, beer, coffee, and tea with every meal: raw water was dangerous, and fermentation and boiling killed what was in it. Read woodenly, a revelation steering the Saints away from boiled and fermented drinks — without teaching them to boil their water — pointed them toward the deadliest beverage of all. Providence, or perhaps the revelation’s own verse 2 escape clause, ensured that the Saints kept right on drinking what they had always drunk for another two generations. But the theological question stands: the God who knew about the health benefits of coffee that the Mayo Clinic would document, and who knew about the cholera that would strike Zion’s Camp within eighteen months, revealed neither. He revealed, instead, the contents of the 1830 Journal of Health.
❦ ❦ ❦
VII. “Great Treasures of Knowledge”: The Promise Examined
The revelation closes with its famous “principle with promise”:
And all saints who remember to keep and do these sayings, walking in obedience to the commandments, shall receive health in their navel and marrow to their bones; and shall find wisdom and great treasures of knowledge, even hidden treasures; and shall run and not be weary, and shall walk and not faint. And I, the Lord, give unto them a promise, that the destroying angel shall pass by them, as the children of Israel, and not slay them.
— Doctrine and Covenants 89:18–21
The language is a pastiche of the King James Bible: “health to thy navel, and marrow to thy bones” is lifted from Proverbs 3:8; “run, and not be weary … walk, and not faint” from Isaiah 40:31; the destroying angel from Exodus 12:23. Whether borrowed phrasing constitutes revelation is a question the reader may weigh; the more practical question is what the promise means and whether it is kept. Latter-day Saint teaching has taken it in two directions. The material reading — physical health, protection, longevity — is the one pressed in countless sacrament-meeting talks. The spiritual reading, developed as the material one grew awkward, holds the “hidden treasures” to be revelation and testimony: as Boyd K. Packer taught in 1996, the Word of Wisdom’s fundamental purpose is spiritual receptivity, worth more to the Saint spiritually than physically.
The material promise fails on ordinary observation, and Latter-day Saints themselves feel the failure. LDS Living — a devotional publication of church-owned Deseret Book — carried a wrenching first-person essay by Alisia Essig, whose husband, a bishop and lifelong abstainer from every prohibited substance, suffered a stroke at thirty-seven; his patriarchal blessing had promised him health for keeping the Word of Wisdom. Her resolution — that the family had kept the “don’ts” but neglected the “do’s” of sparing meat and whole grains — is touching, and it is also a theological tell: when a promise fails, the terms are redefined until the failure becomes the believer’s fault. The promise, as restructured, is unfalsifiable. Health confirms the Word of Wisdom; sickness convicts the sick of insufficient obedience; and the “hidden treasures,” being spiritual, can be neither weighed nor missed. A promise that cannot fail in principle is not a promise; it is an instrument of compliance.
The traditional Christian reads the same words and hears something else again: the echo of a prosperity bargain foreign to the gospel. Christ’s apostles kept no such code and died violently; Timothy was told to take wine for his frequent infirmities, not promised marrow in his bones for avoiding it. The New Testament promises tribulation in this world and treasure in heaven — not dietary immunity from the destroying angel.
❦ ❦ ❦
VIII. Is There Any Biblical Support for the Word of Wisdom?
Latter-day Saint teachers sometimes reach for biblical precedents: Daniel’s pulse and water, the Nazarite vow, Aaron’s abstention in the tabernacle, Proverbs on wine. Each collapses on inspection. Daniel’s diet was a temporary refusal of food offered to idols at a pagan court, not a standing law, and Daniel elsewhere ate meat and drank wine except when fasting (Daniel 10:2–3). The Nazarite vow was voluntary, exceptional, and temporary; it proves that abstinence was not the rule for Israel. Leviticus 10:9 forbade wine to priests only “when ye go into the tabernacle” — on duty, as it were — and Deuteronomy 14:26 goes so far as to bless the festal purchase of “wine, or strong drink, or whatsoever thy soul desireth” for a feast of rejoicing before the Lord. The Bible condemns drunkenness everywhere and alcohol nowhere; the Psalmist thanks God for “wine that maketh glad the heart of man” (Psalm 104:15), and the Lord Jesus made somewhere between 120 and 180 gallons of it at Cana.
Against the Word of Wisdom, meanwhile, the New Testament speaks with startling directness — as though the apostles had foreseen precisely this kind of religion. Three passages carry the argument.
First, Jesus on defilement. When the Pharisees faulted His disciples over ritual food rules, Jesus answered that nothing entering a man from outside can defile him, “because it entereth not into his heart”; evil proceeds from within, and Mark adds the editorial thunderclap: “In saying this, Jesus declared all foods clean” (Mark 7:14–19). The kingdom’s purity is moral, not dietary. A church that bars a believer from its holiest ordinances over a cup of coffee has reversed the Lord’s teaching at the exact point where He was most emphatic.
Second, Paul on food laws as counterfeit spirituality. To the Colossians, Paul dismissed man-made asceticism in words that read like a review of Section 89’s later career: “Let no man therefore judge you in meat, or in drink … (Touch not; taste not; handle not …) after the commandments and doctrines of men … which things have indeed a shew of wisdom in will worship” (Colossians 2:16–23). A show of wisdom — the phrase is almost eerie. And to the Romans: “The kingdom of God is not meat and drink; but righteousness, and peace, and joy in the Holy Ghost” (Romans 14:17). Food is a matter of liberty and conscience, never of standing before God.
Third, Paul on food prohibitions as a mark of apostasy. Most pointed of all is 1 Timothy 4:1–5, where the Spirit “speaketh expressly” that in latter times some shall depart from the faith, heeding doctrines that forbid marriage and command “to abstain from meats, which God hath created to be received with thanksgiving.” Paul does not merely permit what such teachers forbid; he identifies the forbidding itself as a diagnostic sign of departure from the faith. The Christian apologist need not press the application; the Latter-day Saint reader can perform it unassisted. A religion whose founding generation both commanded polygamous marriage and, in time, forbade drinks “which God hath created to be received with thanksgiving” has managed to occupy both halves of Paul’s warning.
The honest conclusion is not merely that the Bible fails to support the Word of Wisdom. It is that the Bible, wherever it touches the subject, opposes the Word of Wisdom’s logic root and branch — the logic that holiness can be eaten and drunk, gated and certified. “Meat commendeth us not to God: for neither, if we eat, are we the better; neither, if we eat not, are we the worse” (1 Corinthians 8:8).
IX. What Happens If You Break It? Consequences and the Temple Gate
What, officially, befalls the Latter-day Saint who does not keep the Word of Wisdom? The answer is a study in soft coercion. On paper, the consequences are mild: the church’s current General Handbook (§ 32.6.4) instructs leaders that violation of the Word of Wisdom is not normally cause for a membership council, and that discipline should not be used to threaten members over it. No one today is excommunicated for coffee.
But the formal leniency conceals the operative machinery. Adherence to the Word of Wisdom is required for baptism into the church; candidates must commit to it before entering the water. It is required for a temple recommend — question by question, in a formal worthiness interview with a bishop and a stake president — and has been since Heber J. Grant fixed the standard in 1921. It is required for full-time missionary service and for enrollment at church schools. Without a recommend a member cannot attend the temple; without the temple, a member cannot receive the endowment or be sealed in celestial marriage; and without those ordinances, on the church’s own doctrine, there is no exaltation. Boyd K. Packer stated the chain candidly in the general conference in 1996: the regulations apply to every member and every prospective convert, no one is baptized without agreeing to live by them, and no one who does not keep them may enter the house of the Lord. Joseph Fielding Smith, the church’s tenth president, pressed it to its logical terminus, asking whether a member would really risk “letting a cup of tea or a little tobacco stand in the road” between himself and the celestial kingdom. And in the April 2007 general conference, Relief Society general president Julie B. Beck held up as a cautionary tale a grandmother who “because of that little cup of coffee” could not qualify for a temple recommend — and whose posterity, five generations on, Beck traced outside the blessings of the restored gospel, as though the coffee pot on the stove had disinherited them all.
So the precise answer to the question “is the Word of Wisdom a temple requirement?” is: yes, absolutely, since 1921 — and therein lies the theological scandal. A rule that its own text calls “not by commandment or constraint” has become the constraint par excellence, standing between a believer and what his church tells him is eternal life with his family. The nineteenth-century Saint could drink his coffee and drive his wagon to the temple; Joseph F. Smith could tell stake presidents in 1902 to wave the tea-drinking grandmothers through; the twenty-first-century Saint is stopped at the recommend desk. Same canon, same verses — different gods at the gate, one is tempted to say. Sharper still: church spokesmen now concede that the requirement is not primarily about health at all but is, in essence, a symbol of obedience to prophetic authority. That admission should be given full weight. The Word of Wisdom survives not because it makes Saints healthy but because it makes them legible — to their leaders, to each other, and to the world. It is a uniform, worn on the inside.
❦ ❦ ❦
X. A Modern Fence Around the Torah: The Word of Wisdom and the Traditions of Men
Rabbinic Judaism counted 613 commandments in the Law of Moses, and around that Law the Pharisees and their successors built what the Mishnah calls a “fence around the Torah” — layer upon layer of protective rules, defining how far one might walk on the Sabbath, which vessels required washing, what tithes applied to mint and anise and cummin. The intention was reverent; the result, our Lord said, was a system that strained out gnats and swallowed camels, honored God with the lips while the heart stood far off, and taught “for doctrines the commandments of men” (Matthew 15:8–9; Mark 7:7).
The comparison to the Word of Wisdom’s career is not a rhetorical flourish; it is a structural diagnosis, and Latter-day Saint writers themselves increasingly make it. Consider the anatomy. A simple original word — a page of dietary counsel explicitly given as non-binding advice — has accreted an interpretive apparatus that no reader of the bare text could reconstruct: hot drinks means coffee and tea, but not hot chocolate; and also iced coffee, though it is not hot; and green tea, though the text mentions neither; and decaffeinated coffee remains suspect, though caffeine is officially not the issue; barley “mild drinks” are abolished despite the text; sacramental wine is abolished despite the text; meat “only in winter” is waved away despite the text; vaping and marijuana are included despite their absence from the text; kombucha divides ward potlucks; and members police one another’s grocery carts with a zeal the Handbook itself has had to discourage — one apostle warning that making the Word of Wisdom a “gospel hobby” of extra rules is a mark of spiritual immaturity and sometimes apostasy. The fence has grown its own fences.
This is precisely the religion Jesus confronted: measurable, external, socially enforced purity that substitutes for the immeasurable, internal righteousness God actually requires. It is easier to audit a coffee cup than a heart, and so the auditable thing becomes the religion. The grandmother in Julie Beck’s parable was, for all we are told, a woman of faith, prayer, and charity; the system could not see any of that past the coffee pot. Meanwhile — as former members observe with some bitterness — a proud, cold, or cruel man who keeps the checklist passes the interview without difficulty. “Woe unto you … for ye pay tithe of mint and anise and cummin, and have omitted the weightier matters of the law, judgment, mercy, and faith” (Matthew 23:23). Whether 613 laws or four beverages, the mechanism is identical, and so is the Lord’s verdict on it.
❦ ❦ ❦
XI. The Quiet Exodus: How Latter-day Saints Are Leaving the Word of Wisdom
Perhaps the most telling development of all is happening not in the archives but in the pews. The Word of Wisdom is losing its grip on the very people it was supposed to define, and the church’s own generational data proves it.
Jana Riess’s Next Mormons Survey — the most extensive independent study of Latter-day Saint belief and behavior to date, reported in the Salt Lake Tribune and analyzed at length in Dialogue — found that more than three-quarters of Latter-day Saint baby boomers considered abstaining from alcohol essential to being a good church member, but only about forty percent of millennials agreed; on coffee and tea the numbers fell to roughly half of boomers and less than a third of millennials. Riess’s published conclusion in The Next Mormons is that somewhere between a quarter and a half of American members interpret the Word of Wisdom in some way at variance with the official standard. Actual consumption tells the same story: significant minorities of self-identified current members report drinking coffee or alcohol within the previous six months, which means either that a remarkable number of members answer the recommend interview less than candidly, or that they have privately renegotiated what “keeping the Word of Wisdom” means, or both.
The renegotiation is now conducted in the open. Church-adjacent outlets like LDS Living publish essays with titles such as “I Live the Word of Wisdom Differently Than You — and Why That’s a Good Thing.” Online forums parse each “silent” policy adjustment — green tea, iced coffee, vaping — within hours of its appearance in the Handbook. BYU’s soda fountains now dispense the caffeine that an earlier generation was asked, as a personal favor to the prophet, to leave alone. And in the mission field, the code has become a serious drag on conversion: asking a Brazilian to give up coffee or a Briton to give up tea, for reasons the missionary can no longer honestly ground in health, is asking for an act of pure institutional submission. Younger members, raised on exactly the medical literature this essay has cited, increasingly decline. The trajectory is unmistakable, and it is the same trajectory polygamy followed: a distinctive practice, defended as eternal, eroded from below, and eventually — one may predict — quietly relaxed from above, with the change presented as continuing revelation. The only thing that will not be said, because it can never be said, is that the original revelation was mistaken.
❦ ❦ ❦
XII. An Unnecessary Word: Why the Word of Wisdom Cannot Be Defended as Revelation or Commandment
It remains to draw the threads together into a single argument. The claim under examination is the church’s claim: that Doctrine and Covenants 89 is a revelation from God, binding today as a commandment upon all who would enter His house. Each element of that claim fails independently, and together they fail decisively.
It is unnecessary as revelation. Nothing in the Word of Wisdom exceeded the knowledge of its moment. Its prohibitions were the temperance movement’s prohibitions; its dietary counsel was the health reformers’ counsel; its vocabulary — strong drinks, hot drinks, mild drinks — was the reformers’ vocabulary; its date was the day after the national temperance observance. What genuine foreknowledge could have supplied germ theory before the cholera came, the actual physiology of tobacco, even the simple distinction between beverages that harm and beverages that heal, is entirely absent. A revelation indistinguishable from its cultural surroundings has no evidential force; the hypothesis “God spoke” adds nothing that the hypothesis “Joseph Smith read the newspapers” does not already explain.
It is incoherent as a text. Read as written, it permits what the church forbids (beer, sacramental wine) and forbids what the church permits (year-round meat, arguably every hot beverage). No consistent principle — not temperature, not caffeine, not addictiveness, not health — accounts for the current list of proscriptions. A rule whose rationale must be perpetually reinvented has no rationale; it has only authority.
It is self-refuting as a commandment. The text says — in words the church still canonizes and prints — that it is not given by commandment or constraint. Every attempt to locate the moment of its transformation into commandment dissolves under historical scrutiny: not 1834, when Joseph kept drinking; not 1851, when Brigham Young’s own circle ignored the vote for a generation; not truly until 1921, when a prohibitionist church president, in a prohibitionist nation, needing a post-polygamy badge of peculiarity, made it a temple test. No revelation affecting the change was ever received or canonized. The commandment rests on administration, not on the voice of God — and its keystone verse still testifies against it.
It is falsified as a promise. Its distinctive medical claims are contradicted by the best modern evidence; its genuine benefits are the common property of every abstinence tradition on earth; its blessings, when they fail, are redefined so that they cannot fail, which is to say they promise nothing.
And it is unbiblical as religion. It reinstates the very principle — holiness by ingestion — that the Lord Jesus explicitly abolished, that Peter was taught to abandon on the rooftop at Joppa, and that Paul identified as a doctrine of departure from the faith. It fences the ordinances of salvation behind a dietary checklist, which is precisely the exchange of gospel for law that the epistle to the Galatians was written to anathematize.
The conclusion is not that health is unimportant, nor that Latter-day Saints are insincere — manifestly, they are among the most sincere religious people in America. The conclusion is that the Word of Wisdom is a human artifact: a competent digest of 1833 reform culture, dictated to settle a household grievance, ignored by its author, weaponized by his successors, and retrofitted by every generation since. As a piece of nineteenth-century Americana, it is fascinating. As a revelation, it is indefensible, and as a commandment standing between souls and the grace of God, it is worse than indefensible — it is, in Paul’s exact phrase, a commandment and doctrine of men with a show of wisdom.
❦ ❦ ❦
Conclusion: The Cup and the Cross
Every religious boundary marker tells you what a community fears and what it treasures. The Word of Wisdom tells us that Latter-day Saints treasure obedience, community, and bodily discipline — and there are worse things to treasure. The Christian who shares a fence line with Latter-day Saint neighbors in Gilbert or Mesa will find in them sobriety, industry, and family devotion that put much of Christendom to shame. Nothing in this essay licenses contempt for them; everything in it invites compassion and a question.
The question is, Peter’s at Joppa and Paul’s at Galatia: what actually makes a person clean before God? The whole tragedy of the Word of Wisdom is that it answers wrongly — and stakes eternity on the wrong answer. It tells a believing woman that a cup of coffee stands between her and the presence of God, when the Son of God shed His blood precisely so that nothing would. It teaches a young man that his worthiness is certified in an interview, when the gospel teaches that no one is worthy and that this is exactly the point of grace. “For by grace are ye saved through faith; and that not of yourselves: it is the gift of God: not of works, lest any man should boast” (Ephesians 2:8–9).
The Christian invitation to the Latter-day Saint reader, then, is not “come and drink coffee.” Coffee is trivia. The invitation is to trade an upside-down cup for an empty tomb; to exchange a worthiness maintained by abstinence for a righteousness received by faith; to discover that the door to God’s house was never guarded by a beverage list, because the Lord of that house tore the veil from top to bottom Himself. “The kingdom of God is not meat and drink; but righteousness, and peace, and joy in the Holy Ghost” (Romans 14:17). That is a word of wisdom — and unlike the one from Kirtland, it has never needed revising.
❦ ❦ ❦
Sources
Primary and Official Latter-day Saint Sources
• Doctrine and Covenants 89 (full text). https://www.churchofjesuschrist.org/study/scriptures/dc-testament/dc/89?lang=eng
• “The Word of Wisdom,” Revelations in Context (Jed Woodworth, 2016). https://www.churchofjesuschrist.org/study/manual/revelations-in-context/the-word-of-wisdom?lang=eng
• “Word of Wisdom,” Gospel Topics / Topics and Questions. https://www.churchofjesuschrist.org/study/manual/gospel-topics/word-of-wisdom?lang=eng
• “Word of Wisdom,” ComeUntoChrist.org. https://www.churchofjesuschrist.org/comeuntochrist/article/word-of-wisdom
Historical and Academic Sources
• Paul H. Peterson, “An Historical Analysis of the Word of Wisdom” (M.A. thesis, BYU, 1972). https://scholarsarchive.byu.edu/etd/5039/
• “Word of Wisdom (Latter Day Saints),” Wikipedia (with citations to Alexander, Bush, McCue, Enstrom). https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Word_of_Wisdom_(Latter_Day_Saints)
• A. Jane Birch, “Getting into the Meat of the Word of Wisdom,” Interpreter 11 (2014). https://interpreterfoundation.org/journal/getting-into-the-meat-of-the-word-of-wisdom
• Peggy Fletcher Stack and David Noyce, “Will the Mormon Word of Wisdom Ever Change?” Salt Lake Tribune special report. https://local.sltrib.com/online/WoW/
Medical Sources
• Mayo Clinic, “Coffee and Health: What Does the Research Say?” https://www.mayoclinic.org/healthy-lifestyle/nutrition-and-healthy-eating/expert-answers/coffee-and-health/faq-20058339
Critical, Apologetic, and Devotional Commentary
• LDS Discussions, “Overview of the Word of Wisdom Revelation.” https://www.ldsdiscussions.com/wow
• Mormon Stories, “Word of Wisdom” truth-claims essay. https://www.mormonstories.org/home/truth-claims/word-of-wisdom/
• Mormonism Research Ministry, “Crash Course Mormonism: Word of Wisdom.” https://mrm.org/word-of-wisdom-doctrine
• Mormonism Research Ministry, “Citations Concerning the Word of Wisdom.” https://mrm.org/word-of-wisdom-citations
• Bradley Campbell, “The Word of Wisdom: Food Restrictions & False Prophets,” MRM (2026). https://mrm.org/the-word-of-wisdom-food-restrictions-false-prophets
• Uncorrelated Mormonism, “An Analysis of the Word of Wisdom.” https://uncorrelatedmormonism.com/an-analysis-of-the-word-of-wisdom/
• Karli Lyman, “The Word of Wisdom,” Ex-Mormon Bible Study (2025). https://exmormonbiblestudy.com/2025/05/03/the-word-of-wisdom/
• Rational Faiths, “The Word of Wisdom Gone Wrong.” https://rationalfaiths.com/word-wisdom-wrong/
• Saints Unscripted, “How Has the LDS Interpretation of the Word of Wisdom Changed Over Time?” https://saintsunscripted.com/faith-and-beliefs/the-commandments/lds-interpretation-of-the-word-of-wisdom-changed-over-time/
• The Thus We See Blog, “The Word of Wisdom Simplified” (2021). https://www.thuswesee.com/2021/08/the-word-of-wisdom-simplified/
• ReligionFacts, “The Word of Wisdom.” https://religionfacts.com/mormonism/ethics/word-of-wisdom
• wasmormon.org, “Evolution of the Word of Wisdom — Stories We Tell.” https://wasmormon.org/word-of-wisdom-stories/
• Meridian Magazine, “Why Do Latter-day Saints Obey the Word of Wisdom?” (archived). https://web.archive.org/web/20250814135814/https://latterdaysaintmag.com/why-do-latter-day-saints-obey-the-word-of-wisdom/
• Alisia Essig, “My husband was specifically promised good health for obeying the Word of Wisdom. So why did he have a stroke at 37?” LDS Living. https://www.ldsliving.com/my-husband-was-specifically-promised-good-health-for-obeying-the-word-of-wisdom-so-why-did-he-have-a-stroke-at-37/s/94644
• LDS Living, “I Live the Word of Wisdom Differently Than You — and Why That’s a Good Thing.” https://www.ldsliving.com/i-live-the-word-of-wisdom-differently-than-you-and-why-thats-a-good-thing/s/85794
Discussion and Community Sources
• r/mormon, “Word of Wisdom policy has silently changed.” https://www.reddit.com/r/mormon/comments/18o6tkd/word_of_wisdom_policy_has_silently_changed_a/
• r/mormon, “Frankly speaking, the Word of Wisdom is a little bit…” https://www.reddit.com/r/mormon/comments/1iu7rss/frankly_speaking_the_word_of_wisdom_is_little_bit/
• r/mormon, “The Word of Wisdom and the Bible.” https://www.reddit.com/r/mormon/comments/10m0cm9/the_word_of_wisdom_and_the_bible/
• r/latterdaysaints, “When did the Word of Wisdom go from a strong suggestion…” https://www.reddit.com/r/latterdaysaints/comments/16j31hr/when_did_the_word_of_wisdom_go_from_a_strong/
• Quora, “Why did the Word of Wisdom emerge in early LDS history?” https://www.quora.com/Why-did-the-Word-of-wisdom-emerge-in-the-early-LDS-history
• Quora, “What is the Word of Wisdom? Why is it not followed as strictly…?” https://www.quora.com/What-is-the-Word-of-wisdom-Why-is-it-not-followed-as-strictly-by-Mormons-as-it-was-in-the-past
• Christianity StackExchange, “When did the LDS church begin teaching the Word of Wisdom?” https://christianity.stackexchange.com/questions/26391/when-did-the-lds-church-begin-teaching-the-word-of-wisdom
• Christ’s Vineyard Ministry Facebook group discussion. https://www.facebook.com/groups/christvm/posts/26125974217076826/
A Note on Research Methods and Accuracy
In recent years, some have voiced concern that artificial intelligence may distort facts or introduce inaccuracies into serious research. That criticism deserves acknowledgment. However, AI has now evolved into the most powerful research instrument available to any dedicated scholar—capable of analyzing vast datasets, cross‑referencing historical records, and surfacing overlooked connections across sources. This work represents a collaboration between the author’s investigative inquiry, verified primary documentation, and the advanced analytic capabilities of AI research tools. Here, AI was not used as a ghostwriter or a shortcut for scholarship, but as a disciplined research partner devoted to rigor, accuracy, and transparency.
Every factual claim in this work has been subjected to active verification. Where AI‑generated content was used as a starting point, it was tested against primary sources, peer‑reviewed scholarship, official institutional documentation, and established historical records. Where discrepancies were found—and they were found—corrections were made. The author has made every reasonable effort to ensure that quotations are accurately attributed, historical details are precisely rendered, and theological claims fairly represent the positions they describe or critique.
That said, no work of this scope is immune to error, and the author has no interest in perpetuating inaccuracies in the service of an argument. If you are a reader—whether sympathetic, skeptical, or hostile to the conclusions drawn here—and you identify a factual error, a misattributed source, a misrepresented teaching, or a claim that cannot be substantiated, you are warmly and genuinely invited to say so. Reach out. The goal of this work is not to win a debate but to get the history right. Corrections offered in good faith will be received in the same spirit, and verified corrections will be incorporated into future editions without hesitation.
Truth, after all, has nothing to fear from scrutiny—and neither does this work.