It’s been a while.

But this morning I went to the Provo Temple. It was cold, the clouds were low over the east mountains, and it struck me:

The temple in Provo may not be the most striking of the temples in and of itself (having sometimes been called a birthday cake and other sundry things), but I’m pretty sure we would be hard pressed to find a more incredible setting for a temple. 

The mountains that slope and meet at Rock Canyon provide perhaps the most ideal backdrop for this house of the Lord. Even before walking through the doors I felt that departure from the profane into the sacred.

Kudos to the Church for its recent statement on alcohol consumption in Utah.

And the one on marriage as well.

Though I’ve only written about it once or twice here, I really love the book of Jacob in the Book of Mormon. It seems to me that Elder Maxwell really did too, and would use one-liners from Jacob frequently.

Here’s one from Jacob 4:14:

But behold, the Jews were a stiffnecked people; and they despised the words of plainness, and killed the prophets, and sought for things that they could not understand. Wherefore, because of their blindness, which blindness came by looking beyond the mark, that they must needs fall; for God hath taken away his plainness from them, and delivered unto them many things which they cannot understand, because they desired it. And because they desired it God hath done it, that they may stumble.

The indictment the Jews usually get from those of us who call ourselves Christians and are looking back on their history with our modern Christian lenses, is that they made too much of the Law of Moses. Pharisees, we say, were way too concerned about keeping the fringe-parts of the law that they missed the purpose of the Law: to teach them about Christ.

The Book of Mormon seems to support this view, but it also presents an alternative way of living the Law of Moses, or an attitude toward the Law. One of the places where this attitude is described is in Alma. Speaking of the converted Lamanites who called themselves the people of Anti-Nephi-Lehi, Alma 25:15-16:

Yea, and they did keep the law of Moses; for it was expedient that they should keep the law of Moses as yet, for it was not all fulfilled. But notwithstanding the law of Moses, they did look forward to the coming of Christ, considering that the law of Moses was a type of his coming, and believing that they must keep those outward performances until the time that he should be revealed unto them.

Now they did not suppose that salvation came by the law of Moses; but the law of Moses did serve to strengthen their faith in Christ; and thus they did retain a hope through faith, unto eternal salvation, relying upon the spirit of prophecy, which spake of those things to come.

This is apparently the spiritual healthy attitude toward the Law of Moses: keep it diligently, but don’t let it get in the way of what is really important: Faith in Jesus Christ.

I read this today and asked myself how this might be applicable to Latter-day Saints. At first I couldn’t think of any way, since the Law of Moses has been fulfilled and we don’t keep it any more.

But then it struck me. We do keep some laws that are unique to this dispensation. The collection of these laws might be termed the Law of Joseph (and successors, which works since a whole lot of what is called the Law of Moses came from people who lived after Moses), and they include such things as (most obviously) the word of wisdom.

In my limited understanding, I would separate the laws Mormons obey into two broad categories: Eternal and Dispensational. Eternal laws are those that seem not to change regardless of the history of the world or the people involved (such things as obedience, sacrifice, chastity, and consecration), whereas dispensational laws are those are are unique to a particular time period or group of people.

How might Mormons benefit from understanding how the people of Anti-Nephi-Lehi kept and approached the Law of Moses? What other laws might be termed dispensational?

There is a conversation going on over here between a number of biblical authors. I couldn’t be more excited! I especially love that the author of Hebrews is still trying to figure out their own identity along with the rest of us mortals.

Terryl Givens brings up an important issue in the third chapter of his book By the Hand of Mormon. He argues that in the early days of the church, the Book of Mormon was important in the lives of members of the church more as an evidence of things outside of the book itself than for the theology it contained.

To sum up Givens’ argument, he cites two main things that the Book of Mormon was evidence of in the minds of early Mormons. 1) That the gathering of Israel and the coming of the millennium were near, and 2) That Joseph Smith, translator of the Book of Mormon, was called of God to be a prophet.

From my experience in the contemporary church, I can see how this is still the case, at least in some very crucial areas of the Mormon experience.

We invite all men everywhere to read the Book of Mormon, to ponder in their hearts the message it contains, and then to ask God, the Eternal Father, in the name of Christ if the book is true. Those who pursue this course and ask in faith will gain a testimony of its truth and divinity by the power of the Holy Ghost.

Those who gain this divine witness from the Holy Spirit will also come to know by the same power that Jesus Christ is the Savior of the world, that Joseph Smith is his revelator and prophet in these last days, and that the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints is the Lord’s kingdom once again established on the earth, preparatory to the second coming of the Messiah.

Thus reads the end of the modern introduction to the Book of Mormon, printed in all current editions of the book. Note the emphasis on the coming millennium and Joseph Smith’s calling as prophet. We still use the Book of Mormon as evidence of things outside of the book itself.

Consider the place the Book of Mormon in missionary work. When I served my mission (within the last decade), our goal with our investigators was to encourage them to read certain portions of the Book of Mormon (usually the introductory material, 3 Nephi 11, and Moroni 10:3-5), and then to pray to know whether the book was true. If they had an experience by which they felt that the book was true, we would teach them that by extension Joseph Smith was a prophet and the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints was the true church of God on the earth.

Often times we would find that those who had read those portions of the book and prayed had felt that the Book of Mormon did come from God, and we would continue to teach them about the church and invite them to read more from the Book of Mormon. 99% of the time they would eventually stop reading and lose interest entirely in what we had to share with them. I can’t help but wonder, now, as I think back on those two years I spent preaching, if I wouldn’t have done more good had I used the Book of Mormon differently

What I wonder is if I had taught the Book of Mormon as signified rather than signifier, if I wouldn’t have been able to influence more people to do what I really wanted them to do, that is, come to Jesus. The Book of Mormon has in it so much that convinces me of my need to completely rely on the merits of Christ.

Currently I teach Gospel Doctrine, and this year we are studying the Book of Mormon. My emphasis this year has been on discovering what the text of the Book of Mormon tells us about coming unto Christ. I’ve found that every week there is something in the assigned reading that convicts my heart and causes me to seek the grace of God. I hope those attending the class are feeling the same thing. I’ve made it an objective in my study and teaching of the Book of Mormon to focus entirely on how the text inspires me to ever more rely on the Savior.

It’s my opinion that Mormons still use the Book of Mormon too much as signifier and not enough as signified.

My last post inspired a slight thread that I want to continue, sort of, here. My very attractive wife and I were talking about the Priesthood ban. I was very impressed with some of her ideas and thought I’d share some of them here (I’ll have her edit the post so as to not misrepresent her).

Was the Priesthood ban God’s will? Was there a good reason that it was allowed to occur and was perpetuated for over a hundred years?

Her opinion is that yes, there was a very good reason for the ban, but it had nothing to do with any kind of unworthiness, premortal or genealogical, on the part of anyone with African heritage. On a side note, from what I’ve seen of members of the church in Africa, they put someone like me from Utah to shame when it comes to faithfulness and enthusiasm.

The reason she sees for the ban is that had it not occurred, and had African Americans (or African Europeans, etc.) been given all of the same blessings, privileges, callings, and responsibilities as other members of the church during the period of the Civil War and through the Civil Rights movement, there is a strong possibility that opposition to the church, not only from without but certainly from within, would have been too much for the survival of the church. America had to be ready, and church members had to be ready, to receive the blessings that attended the extension of these blessings to all people.

God sometimes allows our intolerance and/or our prejudice to assist in furthering His purposes. For example, the marking of the Lamanites with dark skin seems to have had everything to do with the prejudice of the Nephites that the Lord knew they would have. He did not want them to mingle their seed with the seed of the Lamanites if that would result in a loss of the blessings of the gospel. So He, knowing that darker skin would be abhorrent to the Nephites, caused the darker skin of the Lamanites. The curse of the Lamanites had everything to do with spiritual separation from God, and not the color of their skin. This is made clear when the Lamanite converts who were taught by the sons of Mosiah, and who Mormon called the most righteous group of people in the history of his people, did not experience a lightening of their skin color upon conversion, but they did break the centuries-old curse of living without the spirit of God. Apparently, the Nephites at the time were mature enough to see past skin color and respect and love the Lamanites for who they really were: their brothers and sisters. (Btw, the Nephites’ disgust at the color of the Lamanites’ skin is described using irony that only Jacob, of all the BoM authors, could muster in Jacob 3.)

If there was a worthiness issue that was a part of the ban, it was on the part of the non-black members of the church who, for so long, held the belief that they were in some way superior to others of God’s children because of their skin color. The Lord knows what He’s doing; I have absolute confidence in that. He knew when the world would be ready to receive the marvelous blessings of extending the covenants of the temple to all who would receive them, and He knew that no one would be denied the blessings in eternity.

Though the Lord allowed members of the church to have their prejudices, He was not the author of those prejudices, and certainly we can be confident that He does not condone such intolerance. There was a price that the church paid for the ban: imagine what blessings were forfeited by not perpetuating the standard that began with Joseph Smith. What black leaders might there have been in the church, and what kind of influence might they have had for good? We cannot know, but we can be very glad that we live in the post-1978 era.

Thanks to the Juvenile Instructor for the link to this quote. I’m just thrilled that there is someone like Elder Holland in the leadership of the church. Honesty and thoughtfulness run through these lines in the interview PBS did with Elder Holland concerning the Priesthood ban:

Where were you when you heard that the ban was lifted on blacks in the priesthood?

I can remember exactly where I was. For us that’s the “where we [were] when Kennedy was shot,” this deep, deep, spiritual, emotional moment in the history of the church. I was a very young commissioner of education, still in my 30s, and I was coming over from my office in the church office building to the suite of General Authority offices for something or other. … I walked into the office of the General Authority I was going to see, and he said, “Have you heard the news?” This was barely moments out of the temple meeting and the announcement where it was official. And I said: “What news? I haven’t heard any news.” And he said all worthy men — regardless of race or status or circumstance — all worthy men are to receive priesthood.

You’re going to think all I do is cry, but this is in the same family as that missionary experience I described to you. I started to cry, and I was absolutely uncontrollable. I felt my way to a chair … and I sort of slumped from the doorway into the chair and held my head, my face in my hands and sobbed. …

There’s no issue in all my life that I had prayed more regarding — praying that it would change, praying that it would come in due time. I was willing to have the Lord speak, and I was loyal to the position and the brethren and the whole concept, but there was nothing about which I had anguished more or about which I had prayed more. And for that to be said in my lifetime, when I wasn’t sure it would happen in my lifetime, … it was one of the absolute happiest days of my life. …

I’ve talked to many blacks and many whites as well about the lingering folklore [about why blacks couldn't have the priesthood]. These are faithful Mormons who are delighted about this revelation, and yet who feel something more should be said about the folklore and even possibly about the mysterious reasons for the ban itself, which was not a revelation; it was a practice. So if you could, briefly address the concerns Mormons have about this folklore and what should be done.

One clear-cut position is that the folklore must never be perpetuated. … I have to concede to my earlier colleagues. … They, I’m sure, in their own way, were doing the best they knew to give shape to [the policy], to give context for it, to give even history to it. All I can say is however well intended the explanations were, I think almost all of them were inadequate and/or wrong. …

It probably would have been advantageous to say nothing, to say we just don’t know, and, [as] with many religious matters, whatever was being done was done on the basis of faith at that time. But some explanations were given and had been given for a lot of years. … At the very least, there should be no effort to perpetuate those efforts to explain why that doctrine existed. I think, to the extent that I know anything about it, as one of the newer and younger ones to come along, … we simply do not know why that practice, that policy, that doctrine was in place.

What is the folklore, quite specifically?

Well, some of the folklore that you must be referring to are suggestions that there were decisions made in the pre-mortal councils where someone had not been as decisive in their loyalty to a Gospel plan or the procedures on earth or what was to unfold in mortality, and that therefore that opportunity and mortality was compromised. I really don’t know a lot of the details of those, because fortunately I’ve been able to live in the period where we’re not expressing or teaching them, but I think that’s the one I grew up hearing the most, was that it was something to do with the pre-mortal councils. … But I think that’s the part that must never be taught until anybody knows a lot more than I know. … We just don’t know, in the historical context of the time, why it was practiced. … That’s my principal [concern], is that we don’t perpetuate explanations about things we don’t know. …

We don’t pretend that something wasn’t taught or practice wasn’t pursued for whatever reason. But I think we can be unequivocal and we can be declarative in our current literature, in books that we reproduce, in teachings that go forward, whatever, that from this time forward, from 1978 forward, we can make sure that nothing of that is declared. That may be where we still need to make sure that we’re absolutely dutiful, that we put [a] careful eye of scrutiny on anything from earlier writings and teachings, just [to] make sure that that’s not perpetuated in the present. That’s the least, I think, of our current responsibilities on that topic. …

I picked up Harold Bloom’s Stories and Poems for Extremely Intelligent Children of All Ages this morning and randomly turned to a poem, followed by another poem, and then this short story by Oscar Wilde. The name of the story is “The Remarkable Rocket.”

I don’t think I’ve ever read anything by Wilde before. Immediately I liked his style; this paragraph in particular pleased me:

For the next three days everybody went about saying, “White rose, Red rose, Red rose, White rose” and the King gave orders that the page’s salary was to be doubled. As he received no salary at all this was not of much use to him, but it was considered a great honour, and was duly published in the Court Gazette.

The story seems at first to be about the wedding of a lovely young princess to a handsome prince, but when it is mentioned that there will be fireworks at the wedding celebration the story takes a different turn.

The different fireworks hold conversation with each other as they prepare to be set off at the wedding. I’m not sure if this was Wilde’s intention, but I saw a microcosm for much of humanity and the world in the collection of fireworks. Humanity’s short-sightedness is commented on, as well as our inability to see things as they really are. This was very much the case with the Rocket.

The Rocket considered himself to be the all-in-all of the firework race. He loved to hear himself talk, and proudly proclaimed that fact to the others. He thought of himself as very sensitive, intelligent, and the most spectacular performer among his counterparts. But when some of the other fireworks joke with each other while he is speaking and seem to not feel remorse for this action, he cries until he soaks himself with his tears.

At the end of the wedding celebration all of the fireworks are set off, and the people appropriately ooh and ah, but the Rocket is too soggy to be lit. So the next day those cleaning up toss him into a mossy area. He convinces himself that he must have been placed there for special reasons.

The Rocket meets a collection of animals and tries to convince each of them of his importance, but struggles to do so. The last animal he meets is a large White Duck. The Duck discovers the Rocket and begins to question him about his condition. He responds thusly:

It is quite evident that you have always lived in the country, otherwise you would know who I am. However, I excuse your ignorance. It would be unfair to expect other people to be as remarkable as oneself. You will no doubt be surprised to hear that I can fly up into the sky, and come down in a shower of golden rain.

I love the Duck’s reply:

I don’t think much of that, as I cannot see what use it is to anyone. Now, if you could plough the fields like the ox, or draw a cart like the horse, or look after the sheep like the collie-dog, the would be something.

The story ends, following the conversation with the Duck, with a couple little boys finding the Rocket and using him as kindling to boil a kettle. He shoots off from the fire, but the boys are asleep, and the only one to notice is a goose that he lands on after exploding in the sky. But somehow the Rocket “dies” still thinking that “I knew I should create a great sensation.”

Do we all have a little of the Rocket in us?

I really don’t mind valid examination into the policies and personalities of Presidential candidates, but two more email I received today convinced me that, well, I’d better not say what it convinced me of. But let me address the claims of one of them.

The email was titled something like, “A man from the east.” I’m providing for you one of the first marvelously, um, articulate(?) first paragraphs (complete with the underlining and highlighting used in the email text):

I have felt for sometime now that Obama is the
o ne person that ‘Frightens Me’. I believe the Bible has
warned us that ‘A man will come from the East that will be
charismatic in nature and have proposed solutions for all our
problems and his rhetoric will attract many supporters!’

A quick search through the text of the Bible (AV/KJV) shows that the words “east” and “man” are paired only a few times, and the nearest text to this apparent biblical citation comes from Isaiah 41:2:

Who raised up the righteous man from the east, called him to his foot, gave the nations before him, and made him rule over kings? he gave them as the dust to his sword, and as driven stubble to his bow.

The other prophecy concerning a man coming from the east is in Matthew 24:27 and has to do with the Second Coming of Christ.

I can’t bring myself to give any more attention to this email; I started to respond to more of it, but it isn’t worth it. Suffice it to say, if Barack Obama’s policies make you nervous or the stand he takes on issues worry you, go ahead and talk about that.

But stop calling him the Anti-Christ! Stop invoking “the Bible” as a means of political trash talk.

This will be about reconciliation in a couple of ways.

First: I read and completely agreed with a scripture today that before I read with some amount of skepticism. This is the verse:

Yea, even he commanded them that they should preach nothing save it were repentance and faith on the Lord, who had redeemed his people (Mosiah 18:20).

This was something that I read as a missionary and a student and thought that there really must be something missing here. Or maybe not missing, but perhaps this verse only applied to Alma’s people. How can you possibly on preach about two things? Wouldn’t that make church a moot? Wouldn’t that make scripture reading a one-time deal, and you could stop once you read the first invitation to have faith in God and to repent of your sins? I mean, Seriously!

But something has happened to me since my graduation from BYU a year ago, and also I think in my not having a full-time teaching job with the church. I’ve essentially been divorced from any institutionalized religion. Sure, I’ve been attending my ward, but with kids and things, there’s really not as much mental exercising going on as in religion classes both as student and teacher. Not that I have anything against any of my religion classes at BYU or my experiences teaching Seminary. The change has been something very much on the individual level. I could have had this understanding all those years as a missionary and student and could have benefited very much from it; but I couldn’t, to use an oft used analogy, see the forest for the trees.

I spent my time as a missionary, student, and teacher looking for things that were, for lack of a better word, interesting in the scriptures. I thought that was what edification consisted of. And this in spite of instruction from some very wise individuals who knew better. For my Seminary students I wanted to create an intense interest in the scriptures and in their origins and forms and stuff. I figured that’s what my instructors were doing in school.

Now, though, as I read Alma’s instruction to his people I understood it maybe for the first time. My journey through the Book of Mormon this year has been centered on these two core fundamental principles. And the journey has been refreshing. I’ve begun to see myself in my own carnal state. I’ve begun to understand where my life and desires are completely out of line and to trust in the grace of God to help me out of these things.

I think I’m becoming converted.