A Telling Tale of 2 Temples

On a dusty Redlands hillside where tract homes and orange groves meet, the most sacred of Mormon buildings is already half complete. Under the bright sun, workers in hard hats use a crane to guide large, 5-inch-thick granite slabs into place on the temple’s exterior.

“It’s beyond belief,” said Mayor Kasey Haws, himself a Mormon, about watching his church’s holiest symbol quickly rise in his town at the base of the San Bernardino Mountains. “I still have trouble absorbing it.”

Sixty-five miles away in Newport Beach, officials with the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints had hoped a second, identical temple--announced the same day last year as the one in Redlands--would have matched the progress of its inland twin.

But 18 months later, the 7-acre site above a canyon on the city’s north end remains vacant. Although church leaders say the essence of the temple design is ordained by God and therefore nonnegotiable, construction has been delayed by tenacious residents who live in the surrounding million-dollar homes. Concerned about blocked views, excessive lighting and traffic, and a potential drop in property values, the group of high-powered professionals and others have fought many aspects of the building’s original plans, from its 124-foot steeple to its white color scheme.

On a hunch, one homeowner and part-time sailor even used a sextant to measure the steeple on the Mormon meeting house across the street from the temple site. He discovered that the spire is 68 feet high, or 18 feet shorter than advertised in city documents. Opponents called the discovery significant because church officials had said the temple steeple needed to be 124 feet, in part, to rise above the neighboring spire.

Last week, before an overflow crowd at Newport Beach City Hall, church officials won Planning Commission approval for the temple after unveiling another set of plans that included a reduced, 100-foot steeple. But the issue--and all its controversy--most likely will be appealed by residents or a council member and end up at the City Council in the weeks to come.

The opposing viewpoints--one secular, one religious--have brought a stalemate that’s left little ground for compromise. Homeowners say they want to focus on how the 17,500-square-foot building will affect the surrounding residential neighborhood. Their strategy purposely left religion out of the debate. Whether it’s a Mormon temple or a Ralphs supermarket is beside the point, they contend. The issue is whether the project fits in the neighborhood.

“We’ve stuck to the facts,” said Steven Brombal, president of the Bonita Canyon Homeowners Assn. “This is a building issue that has nothing to do with religion.”

Church leaders, by contrast, say religion is an essential part of the debate. In addition to arguing that the building won’t hurt the neighborhood, church leaders say the temple’s design has been divinely decreed. Therefore, it’s impossible to compromise over neighbors’ concerns as is common with other developments.

Unlike Mormon meeting houses where regular Sunday services are held, temples--with their dazzling white interiors and prism-like windows--are believed by church members to be the spiritual bridge between heaven and Earth. The sacred space--only 60 exist in the country, including those under construction--is reserved for life’s most significant events, such as baptisms and marriages. Only church members in good standing may enter a temple.

And only the church’s president, who also is considered a prophet, can approve a temple’s design. Church officials say President Gordon B. Hinckley, 92, twice visited the Newport Beach property on Bonita Canyon Road near MacArthur Boulevard to get a sense of what kind of building was needed. And any city mandate that changes the temple’s architecture is seen by the 11-million member church as an infringement on its religious briefs and a contradiction of God’s design.

“Although the city may not share the belief that [the church president] has the divine mandate to do this, we trust that you will respect the fact that church members do believe it,” wrote Weatherford Clayton, president of the Newport Beach stake, or region, of the church.

This is how the pingpong match in Newport Beach has gone. Mormon officials say their theology dictates a 124-foot steeple in Newport Beach.

A resident digs up a mound of documents that lists Mormon temples worldwide with either no steeples, or spires under 80 feet. The church leaders say divine inspiration is different for each of their 126 temples and for each church president, meaning there’s no standard architecture.

Then in late September, Mormon officials say their prophet in Salt Lake City has approved a second temple design for Newport Beach, this one with a smaller steeple and a redesigned, California-mission style building. The plans were publicly unveiled Thursday evening at the Planning Commission meeting.

Some residents say they were stunned by the unexpected changes, wondering why they were told for months that no modifications were possible because the temple design was divinely inspired. Mormon leaders countered by saying that after “much deliberation and internal processing and in the spirit of conciliation,” the prophet, using his “unique scriptural mandate,” elected to approve the second set of plans.

“They make unilateral changes,” said Bob Dyess, a nearby homeowner and Newport Beach attorney. “It’s their way or the highway. And that’s what is so frustrating about the whole process.”

Even the temple’s color has generated considerable controversy.

Many Mormon temples--including those in San Diego and Los Angeles--feature exteriors of brilliant white, lighted at night by powerful spotlights, reflecting the Gospel command to follow Jesus out of darkness and into the light.

Under pressure from homeowners and The Irvine Co., the Newport Beach temple changed its exterior colors from white to off-white and finally to “Salisbury pink,” a hue Mormon officials are quick to say is more accurately described as a warm, earth-tone salmon.

“They’ve gone from bad to worse,” Brombal said.

Joseph I. Bentley, a leader in the Orange County Mormon community who has taken much of the brunt of the criticism, wonders if there’s an anti-church undercurrent to many of the complaints.

“We listened to the homeowners, and we listened to The Irvine Co.” to come up with the exterior color, he said. “My gosh, some of them say they have no problem in general with your building or your faith, but ....”

The inability of church leaders and homeowners to reach a compromise by traditional means has led to suspicion on both sides. Church leaders, fearing a protracted battle, warned city officials about their constitutional right to freely practice their religion.

An Aug. 28 memo from the Newport Beach city attorney’s office warned planning commissioners that federal law that prohibits municipalities from imposing a “substantial burden” on the exercise of religion, unless there’s a compelling public interest.

Residents respond by saying Mormon leaders haven’t been forthright in disclosing details of the project, letting mistakes like the height of the existing steeple intentionally slide by and producing unrealistic computer simulations that downplay the impact of the temple on nearby homes.

“This kind of stuff started from get-go,” said Lori Kaiden, a nearby homeowner. “What it comes down to is credibility.”

An hour’s drive inland from Newport Beach, the quest to build a temple has gone remarkably more smoothly. It took little more than two months for the Redlands temple project to get city approval, with little opposition.

Mayor Haws said that Redlands, which has always had a heavy Mormon influence, is a town that historically has embraced religious institutions. He points to what’s known as “The Lord’s Corner” at Cajon Street and Olive Avenue, the home of three historic churches that together get the streets closed once a year for an outdoor ecumenical service.

And earlier this year, the Redlands City Council unanimously approved a 9,000-square-foot mosque with 50-foot minarets.

“It’s not just about tolerance,” Haws said. “We embrace different traditions here. Everybody embraces and recognizes that a variety of religious traditions have served the community well. We are behind the times, and we plan on staying there.”