The Lord knows if I had lost a rib for each wife I have, I should have had none left long ago.– Brigham Young
A very funny quote from an excellent post by Jared over at LDS Science Review. Go read the whole thing. ..bruce..
Orson Scott Card has an outstanding column over at Mormon Times on what he calls “deep religion“:
I had unknowingly tapped into their religion at a level so deep that they didn’t even understand why my comments made them so upset. Yet they didn’t think it was their religion — they thought Plato was just a philosopher, and that their religion was founded on scripture.
What I learned at that point was that people aren’t always aware of their real religion, the deep beliefs that they hold with such intense faith that it doesn’t occur to them that other people might not share them.
Be sure to read the whole column; it’s both excellent and relevant.
Back in 1971, as a freshman at BYU in the Honors Program, I was (thankfully) required to take — in place of the usual ‘freshman English’ class — a five-credit class on ‘Composition and Reasoning’. We met 3 days a week with an English professor, studying composition and writing, and 2 days a week with a Philosophy professor, studying logic, reasoning, and philosophy. Our major papers were graded by both professors — that is, they were graded not just on how well we wrote, but whether our logic was sound. One of the most important lessons I learned in that class was the importance of going back to fundamental premises — and how often, in regular human discourse, those fundamental premises are unvoiced, unexamined, and often simply unconscious, as per Card’s observations in his column.
This insight was of great use for me in subsequent years in the intense discussions (read: flame wars) that took place on the pre-Web internet/online communities (USENET news groups, bulletin board systems, and on-line services such as BIX). I found that by pushing the topic back to fundamental premises, I could usually uncover the real sources of disagreement. Of course, I also found that a lot of people didn’t like to go back to their fundamental premises, usually because (a) they had never thought about them and didn’t want to start thinking about them now, and/or (b) they began to realize that their fundamental premises were not logically consistent with each other and/or with some of their more conscious beliefs.
Likewise, through the decades of raising our 9+ children (the ‘+’ being our ’semi-adopted’ daughter, the daughter of a close friend who lived with us for a full school year while in high school), my wife Sandra and I naturally had many, many discussions about religion with them. Some of our children, as they grew older, drifted (or ran) away from the Church and the Gospel, usually saying that they had no need for ‘religion’. My rejoinder was that whether they were LDS or not, whether they were Christian or not — heck, whether they were atheist or not — they all still had ‘religion’ of some kind, viz., their answers (or lack thereof) to the ‘terrible questions’:
I told them that whether they accepted the Gospel and/or the Church, their lives would be better off and more cohesive if they consciously answered those questions for themselves and then lived accordingly.
Even today, I find that much of what passes for political, religious, and even scientific discourse suffers from the same problem: lack of discussion of the fundamental underlying premises (which may well be what led Card to write this particular column). Without such discussion, the discourse usually becomes futile, unproductive, and often quite nasty. Yet I often find that people don’t want to go through the effort (and sometimes pain) of determining their fundamental premises and/or reconciling their espoused and conscious opinions with those premises.
I have long thought that logic and reasoning should be a required class no later than middle school and should be repeated in high school and college. We worry (and rightly so) in our educational system about literacy and numeracy, and even about computer skills, but fail to realize that the ability to construct — and take apart — a logical argument, as well as to recognize the variety of logical fallacies, is every bit as important, particularly in today’s world. (And as a side note, the training I received in logic and reasoning in that Honors class was of tremendous value when I switched my major to computer science later on in college.)
Logic and reasoning are also, in my opinion, important in religion. Contrary to popular belief, there is nothing inherently illogical about religion or religious belief itself; all belief, all knowledge, all logic and reasoning goes back to fundamental and axiomatic premises (such as the ‘terrible questions’ above). Indeed, many attacks on religion themselves come from unexamined, unvoiced, and/or undefended premises (”One just doesn’t get gold plates from an angel” — “Why not?”) or from a foundational premise that can only lead to a reduced set of conclusions (e.g., Fawn Brodie and Dan Vogel both having as an a priori assumption that Joseph Smith could not have been a genuine prophet).
This, of course, doesn’t mean there isn’t a lot of sloppy and/or illogical thinking within religion and religious belief, including within the Church. But my own training in logic and reasoning has only served to strengthen my testimony over the years and, I believe, has left me far less susceptible to the “Oh, I just learned something unpleasant about [name major Church figure, doctrine, program or local leader here] and now I’m leaving the Church” syndrome. Beyond that, in my examination of other religions, I have found LDS doctrine and thought to be more logically consistent and cohesive, and that it just makes far more sense.
The anchor of my personal testimony comprises the fundamental spiritual experiences, occasionally profound but usually mild and quiet, that have filled my life starting at the time of my conversion over 40 years ago. But the chain that holds me to that anchor is forged from the steel of logic and reasoning — and a strong and firm chain it is. ..bruce..
While out walking this morning, D&C 128 came up on my iPod Shuffle. I have always loved this section, even as a teenage convert, because Joseph Smith’s voice and character seemed to come through so clearly. The section itself — a letter dictated by Joseph Smith (and transcribed by William Clayton) on September 6, 1842, while hiding out from attempts to arrest him and extradite him to Missouri1 — is a wonderful blend of (to draw upon Nibley) mantic (revelatory), sophic (logical), and yes, even rhetoric (”Courage, brethren! And on, on to the victory!”). But even in his rhetorical — and one might argue ecstatic — flight at the end of the section, he still brings it back to where it started: records and recorders (cf. v. 2-4 with the end of v. 24). And then, the flight done and the circle closed, he signs off with a very mild and calm
Brethren, I have many things to say to you on the subject; but shall now close for the present, and continue the subject another time. I am, as ever, your humble servant and never deviating friend, Joseph Smith. (D&C 128:25)
What struck me today, listening to this section, was the contrast with Joseph’s earliest autographical writings. Here’s a portion of his 1832 ‘History’ that Joseph wrote himself (as opposed to dictating to Frederick G. Williams) some 10 years before dictating D&C 128; I’ve modernized (or corrected) spelling, punctuation, and capitalization, as well as making some decisions regarding clauses and sentence breaks, so as just focus on the composition itself (and to account for whatever ‘polish’ William Clayton may have given his transcription of D&C 128):
I was born in the town of Sharon in the State of Vermont North America on the twenty-third day of December DC 1805 of goodly parents who spared no pains in instructing me in the Christian religion. At the age of about ten years, my father Joseph Smith Sr. moved to Palmyra, Ontario County, in the State of New York and being in indigent circumstances were obliged to labor hard for the support of a large family having nine children; and as it required the exertions of all that were able to render any assistance for the support of the family, therefore we were deprived of the benefit of an education; suffice it to say I was merely instructed in reading, writing and the ground rules of arithmetic, which constituted my whole literary acquirements. At about the age of twelve years, my mind became seriously impressed with regard to the all-important concerns for the welfare of my immortal soul, which led me to searching the scriptures, believing as I was taught, that they contained the word of God; thus applying myself to them and my intimate acquaintance with those of different denominations led me to marvel exceedingly; for I discovered that they did not adorn their profession by a holy walk and Godly conversation agreeable to what I found contained in that sacred depository. This was a grief to my soul. Thus from age twelve years to fifteen, I pondered many things in my heart concerning the situation of the world of mankind: the contentions and divisions, the wickedness and abominations, and the darkness which pervaded the minds of mankind. My mind became exceedingly distressed, for I became convinced of my sins and by searching the scriptures, I found that mankind did not come unto the Lord, but that they had apostatized from the true and living faith, and there was no society or denomination that build upon the gospel of Jesus Christ as recorded in the New Testament, and I felt to mourn for my own sins and for the sins of the world, for I learned in the scriptures that God was the same yesterday, today, and forever, that he was no respecter to persons, for he was God.2
Joseph by this point had already received quite a bit of polishing — he had dictated the entire Book of Mormon, plus close to half of the revelations that would eventually end up in the Doctrine and Covenants. Yet even so, I see a difference between Joseph’s style here and that found in D&C 128 some 10 years later. Joseph’s writing in his 1832 ‘History’ tends to plod along, winding through long, long sentences. D&C 128 has a lighter, clearer style, and there is a sense of structure and purpose, and even of joy — that Joseph knows where he’s going with all this, that he’s excited about it, and that each new strand he brings up gets woven into the overall tapestry. Even when he goes off on that ecstatic flight at the end, he does so for a purpose and — as noted above — he brings it back to his original topic and weaves it into the tapestry as well (cf. Jeff Bennion’s excellent post over at Mormon Mentality on Joseph Smith not being a “mystic”).
FWIW; YMMV. ..bruce..
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1. The Revelations of the Prophet Joseph Smith, Lyndon W. Cook, Seventy’s Missionary Bookstore, 1981, pp. 284-285.
2. Adapted from The Papers of Joseph Smith: Volume I: Autobiographical and Historical Writings, Dean C. Jessee (ed.), Deseret Book, 1989, pp. 3-6.
Listening to the book of Jacob on my iPod while driving around today, I picked up on something that I hadn’t noticed or considered before. There is, I think, a hint of tension between Jacob and the new Nephite king, particularly through the first few chapters of Jacob. The first thing that caught my ear was this passage:
And now it came to pass that the people of Nephi, under the reign of the second king, began to grow hard in their hearts, and indulge themselves somewhat in wicked practices, such as like unto David of old desiring many wives and concubines, and also Solomon, his son. Yea, and they also began to search much gold and silver, and began to be lifted up somewhat in pride. Wherefore I, Jacob, gave unto them these words as I taught them in the temple, having first obtained mine errand from the Lord. (Jacob 1:15-17)
Now, Jacob has just spent several verses talking about the death of Nephi and the choosing of a subsequent king (to be called “second Nephi” or, as we might say it, “Nephi the Second”). So he doesn’t need to re-inform us that we’re now “under the reign of the second king” — but he does so anyway. And that phrase sounds as though Jacob could mean it in a causative sense — that it is because of the reign of the “second king” that the Nephites “began to grow hard in their hearts” and so on.
Note also that Jacob doesn’t say “second Nephi”, “King Nephi”, or anything like that; after giving a glowing send-off for his brother (Jacob 1:9-14), Jacob simply calls the new king “the second king” and gives us no information about his background, lineage, or character. This is underscored by Jacob subsequently stating that his own ecclesiastical authority — and that of his brother Joseph — came “by the hand of Nephi” (Jacob 1:18), emphasizing Nephi’s holiness and standing before God — and implying that it is Jacob and Joseph who are carrying on Nephi’s tradition, rather than “the second king”.
When Jacob describes the Nephite trend towards polygamy, he specifically cites the example of two fallen Israelite kings: David and Solomon. He doesn’t cite any of the polygamous prophets (including Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob/Israel), or any other Old Testament practitioners of polygamy. This makes me wonder if Jacob 1:15 actually describes what the second king is doing, with the people of Nephi simply following suit. In that case, consider the following hypothetical rewrite of verse 15:
…the second king…began to grow hard in [his] heart, and indulge [himself] somewhat in wicked practices, such as like unto David of old desiring many wives and concubines, and also Solomon, his son. Yea, and [he] also began to search much gold and silver, and began to be lifted up somewhat in pride. (Compare with this description of King Noah some 400 years later.)
So, if this was the case, why didn’t Jacob just write this? One answer is that Jacob may not have considered it safe to do so, though it’s unclear what access the king and his advisors would have to the small plates. (Still, see Jacob 3:13-14, which I comment on below.) Another possible answer is that Jacob did not feel it his place or right to challenge or criticize the king directly, since the king in Israelite terms was considered the Lord’s anointed; again, this could be a reason why Jacob may have specifically cited his own ordination, but was still circumspect in what he said (or, at least, what he wrote).
A third (and not necessarily exclusive) answer is that the second king was most likely a son of Nephi; it could also have been Jacob’s older brother Sam (less likely, given what Sam’s age would be at that time), a son of Sam, a son of Jacob himself (other than Enos — who appears very late in Jacob’s life) or even a son of Joseph. It’s hard to believe that the kingship would pass out of the Lehi lineage altogether immediately after Nephi’s death, so Jacob was almost certainly closely related to the king, whoever he was. As such, Jacob may have been hesitant to challenge or criticized his close family directly, especially given the disastrous and painful split among his own older brothers which was even then a source of on-going conflict and war.
If this is correct — that is, if the problems that Jacob cites had their origin with the second king — then Jacob’s sermon in chapters 2 and 3 becomes very interesting, since Jacob in that case almost certainly directed his sermon at the king as much as at the people. When read or listened to in that context, the sermon has what could be interpreted as some very pointed remarks for the new king:
He then spends much of the rest of his sermon talking about how much better the Lamanites are in their treatment of their wives and children, and how much better it will be for the Lamanites at the last day than for the (wicked) Nephites; again, a reminder that blessings are not guaranteed by lineage or position. He then concludes his sermon (or, at least, his transcription of it) with
O my brethren [think: "king" or possibly just "brother"], hearken unto my words; arouse the faculties of your souls; shake yourselves that ye may awake from the slumber of death; and loose yourselves from the pains of hell that ye may not become angels to the devil, to be cast into that lake of fire and brimstone which is the second death. (Jacob 3:11; compare with Lehi’s admonition to Laman and Lemuel)
And then he closes this section (chapters 2 and 3 were a single chapter in the original Book of Mormon manuscript) with a passage that sounds as if he’s unsure he’ll be writing any more (which underscores the thought that he might be at risk):
And a hundredth part of the proceedings of this people, which now began to be numerous, cannot be written upon these plates; but many of their proceedings are written upon the larger plates, and their wars, and their contentions, and the reigns of their kings. These plates are called the plates of Jacob, and they were made by the hand of Nephi. And I make an end of speaking these words. (Jacob 3:13-14)
As I said, these are only hints of a serious church/state tension after the death of Nephi. But they form a useful context for reading the first three chapters of Jacob, and they give several of the passages new meaning and depth, particularly in the context of Jacob calling the king — who is almost certainly a very close family member — to repentance. ..bruce..
[Updated 03/26/08 -- made some additions and changes]
Bruce Nielson had a post over at Mormon Matters earlier this month on the use of the name “Anti-Nephi-Lehi” in the Book of Mormon and what it could mean. I posted a few comments in response, but wanted to pull them together here with a few other things I’ve run across just in the last day or so to lay out my own arguments a bit more concisely and coherently.
The name first shows up in Alma 23:16-17. It is a name that the Lamanites who have converted to the ‘church of God’ take upon themselves as a replacement for the name ‘Lamanites’:
And now it came to pass that the king and those who were converted were desirous that they might have a name, that thereby they might be distinguished from their brethren; therefore the king consulted with Aaron and many of their priests, concerning the name that they should take upon them, that they might be distinguished. And it came to pass that they called their names Anti-Nephi-Lehies; and they were called by this name and were no more called Lamanites.
When the king of over all the Lamanites (who remains unnamed in the record) confers his kingdom upon his son (also unnamed; this is the brother of King Lamoni), that son’s name changes to “Anti-Nephi-Lehi”; it’s unclear if he chose that name or if his father conferred it upon him:
Now the king conferred the kingdom upon his son, and he called his name Anti-Nephi-Lehi. (Alma 24:3)
Of course, these names tend to be a bit confusing to us as English speakers, since we interpret “anti” as meaning “in opposition of” — and, indeed, the Book of Mormon has a word or phrase that is translated into English as “antichrist” and is used to describe Korihor. So for us it makes no apparent sense to have a righteous people somehow describe themselves as being “in opposition to” Nephi and Lehi. Indeed, the entire point of Bruce Nielsen’s post was to give an explanation of just how that phrase might be interpreted.
Royal Skousen devotes three and a half pages of discussion on this name in Analysis of Textual Variants of the Book of Mormon, Part Four, Alma 21-55 (FARMS, 2007), pp. 2092-2095. The last part of his discussion considers three possibilities:
Skousen concludes that it is the third, citing a long string of Nephite and Lamanite proper names that also use Anti:
Instead, Anti appears to be a proper noun in the Nephite-Lamanite language. Consider how many uses there are in the text of the morpheme Anti in Nephite and Lamanite proper nouns: Ani-Anti, Antiomno, Antionah, Antionum, Antiparah, Antipas, and Antipus; perhaps the Nephite monetary unit antion could also be added to this list. (p. 2095)
I would also suggest that the name “Manti” could be added to that list.
There are three other things that add support to Skousen’s conclusion (which I agree with), but which he does not specifically cite.
First, a very minor point: there are no hyphens in either the original Book of Mormon manuscript or the printer’s manuscript prepared from the original manuscript by Oliver Cowdery. In both cases, the name as given in Alma 23:17 is “AntiNephiLehies”. I only mention this because some of the discussion over at Mormon Matters dealt with the significance of the hyphenation.
Second, and more significant, all of the individuals whose names start with Anti* are rulers or leaders of some kind:
Manti, on the other hand, does show up as a non-ruler name (Alma 2:22). All other uses of *Anti* names (including Manti, Antionum and Antipas) are place names, with the exception of antion (a measure of gold) and, of course, AntiNephiLehies for the converts themselves.
Finally, and I believe most compelling, all of the *anti* names listed above — with a single exception — appear exclusively in the book of Alma. To wit:
Even the one *anti* name that appears (once) outside of the book of Alma — Antionum – appears first in the Book of Alma as a place name, then (like Mormon itself) appears as the name of a military leader in the last days of the Nephite civilization.
Note further that the book of Alma itself covers less than 40 years (90 BC to 52 BC), only a small fraction of the entire Nephite history. Yet all of the *anti* names appear in the Book of Mormon record only during that 40 years (again, except for the late and solitary reappearance of Antionum some 400 years later).
In short, within the Book of Mormon, *anti* was used only within a very brief (<40 years) period of time — with the late exception of Antionum, the borrowing of a place name from that 40-year period — and Anti* is only used at the start of a personal name when that person is a civil and/or military leader. I believe this provides very strong evidence that, as Skousen concluded, Anti* is a Nephite/Lamanite morpheme — and one that appears to have something to do with leadership, at least when used as a proper name.
One potential, if minor, complication with the “Anti*= ruler” hypothesis is that the collective name AntiNephiLehies shows up in the Book of Mormon text a few verses (and some implied duration of time) before the son of the Lamanite king is given the name AntiNephiLehi. However, I would argue that the same text hints that the old king — Lamoni’s father — may have taken upon himself the name AntiNephiLehi and did so before the Lamanite converts under his rule took upon themselves the collective name AntiNephiLehies. I base this on Alma 24:1-3:
And it came to pass that the Amalekites and the Amulonites and the Lamanites who were in the land of Amulon, and also in the land of Helam, and who were in the land of Jerusalem, and in fine, in all the land round about, who had not been converted and had not taken upon them the name of Anti-Nephi-Lehi, were stirred up by the Amalekites and by the Amulonites to anger against their brethren. And their hatred became exceedingly sore against them, even insomuch that they began to rebel against their king, insomuch that they would not that he should be their king; therefore, they took up arms against the people of Anti-Nephi-Lehi.
Now the king conferred the kingdom upon his son, and he called his name Anti-Nephi-Lehi. (emphasis added)
It’s dangerous to put too much weight upon the chronological sequence of three verses, particularly since the text itself represents Mormon2’s abridgment of the record of Alma2. But I would suggest that the Lamanite converts had actually followed well-established Nephite/Lamanite tradition of taking upon themselves the name of their founding leader (cf. Alma 2:9-11; Alma 21:2-3; etc.); that the father of King Lamoni had taken the name AntiNephiLehi upon himself (in consultation with Aaron et al.), and that the converts then naturally chose to call themselves AntiNephiLehies or the people of AntiNephiLehi in response to that. When the old king stepped down from the throne, his son took upon himself (or was given by his father) that same name.
OK, now for a really speculative interpretation. The first appearance of *anti* in the entire Book of Mormon is found in the very first chapter of Alma:
And it came to pass that they took him; and his name was Nehor; and they carried him upon the top of the hill Manti, and there he was caused, or rather did acknowledge, between the heavens and the earth, that what he had taught to the people was contrary to the word of God; and there he suffered an ignominious death. (Alma 1:15)
Manti is specifically identified here as a hill (though the name is later used — in typical Nephite/Lamanite fashion — for both a city and the land around it). Furthermore, it is a hill that appears to have some strong ritualistic or symbolic meaning, since it is used for Nehor’s confession and execution “between the heavens and the earth”. It may well be that anti in the Nephite/Lamanite language has a meaning somewhat parallel with arche in Greek, that is, the senses of beginning, first, highest, ruler, or even heavenly. This meaning could predate (and help explain) the place name Manti for this particular hill (”between the heavens and the earth”), or the meaning could derive from the name of the hill Manti itself.
Note that Antipas is likewise a “mount“. There is no direct indication of the terrain around the other Anti* place names.
Anyway, as I said, a few thoughts. ..bruce..
