This is kind of like reading theology.

When I read theology, I assume two things and I assume these same two things regardless of the author. I read Blake Ostler the same way I read Augustine or Dogen.

I assume that the author is a sinner and that their theology is handicapped by an irreparable narrowness. And I assume that, compared to me, they are smarter and significantly closer to God.

I assume that the face of God is as likely to shine through their twinkling weakness as anywhere else. The serpent that bites is the same serpent that gets held up for healing.

These assumptions are the key to both redeeming and being redeemed by the stuff we read.

Joe Spencer and I are reading Blake’s books all year long. I go in assuming that Blake’s a sinner (that snake! – he is a lawyer after all) and that his theology, like everyone’s, is handicapped by an irreparable narrowness. And I go in assuming that he is smarter and significantly closer to God than I am.

Look again at the thing that bit you. Look close this time. It’s simple.

God’s winking at you with Blake’s black eye.

Thanks, Blake.

The location is the small city of Le Chesnay, near Versailles. On the lot of 2.24 acres stands an old building, waiting for demolition. The building permit for the temple was delivered last October, after a thorough investigation. The city mayor, Dr. Philippe Brillault, had no reason and no legal ground to deny the application. His majority in the city council agreed and approved the project.

But, such a dossier is fair political game: a hard kernel within the opposition decided to make it their battering-ram.

In the ongoing procedure, people could still contest the approval by December 27th 2011. Four formal objections were lodged against the building permit. The municipality rejected all four this week. Opponents can now appeal to an administrative court. As long as appeals are possible, the Church has decided to leave the lot untouched. But matters look favorable for the Church, which also set up a website about the temple.

Which main arguments are being used against the plan?

One is simply procedural. Has the mayor showed enough openness and provided enough information during the whole procedure? The mayor says yes, the opposition no. Standard bickering with broad margins for interpretation.

Another argument is socio-economic. Chesnay needs no Mormon temple! Why not, for example, have the city purchase the lot, through expropriation, and build “social housing,” apartments rented at moderate prices, which the city badly needs? “Instead of building a national temple for a population that baptizes the dead, should we not first give proper equipment, work and lodgings to the living?” asks the anti-Mormon-temple website Avenir46—the name referring to the future of the location at number 46 boulevard Saint-Antoine. The answer of the mayor is as socio-economic: the purchase price of 20 million euros (26 million dollars), just for the lot, would have put an enormous strain on a town with a total year budget of 11,5 million euros. It would have prevented the planned building of a new school, the renovation of equipment, and all public works for at least three years. And no money left to demolish the old building (expensive because of asbestos clearing) and to construct social housing. Not one city council member, the mayor clarified in a well-argued editorial to the citizens, would vote in favor of such financial suicide.

Other arguments—and these make national and even international headlines—are emotional: For or against the Mormons? Some in the hard kernel of the opposition, using latent French chauvinism and xenophobia, are painting, in horrendous terms, the coming invasion of those dreaded Mormons to the quiet and lovely city of Le Chesnay. By January 31, Avenir46 had gathered 6,000 signatures to protest the planned Mormon temple. The site links to information railing against Mormonism, exposing the evils of this ‘blasphemous, polytheistic’ religion which degrades women, brainwashes children, and isolates its members from society—not to speak of the pagan rites for dead people at just a few yards from where you walk! Welcome to the 1880s. These contemporary anti-Mormons find support from various French anticult organizations, who are always eager to save victims from cultish destruction. But it should also be said that many French, in comments in newspapers and websites, are voicing their embarrassment at the bigotry of some of their fellow citizens.

Some anticult opponents also voice two concerns grounded in reality: tithing and non-admission for non-members. These are worthy of consideration as they are sometimes real obstacles in issues of cult-identification, recognition, and tax exemption for the Church.

In France (as in other countries) the government or an official watchdog defines a harmful cult according to a number of criteria. One criterion is extortion: requiring a significant amount of money to allow access to ‘vital’ religious material, sacraments or ordinances. On the basis of that criterion, Scientology has been a main target for judicial action in a number of European countries, also in France. Though the Mormon Church is not listed as a cult in France, the same critique of extortion is sometimes leveled at the Church. Since for Mormons the temple ordinances are a required step for exaltation and since a temple sealing is necessary for a religiously sanctioned marriage, a temple recommend is needed. To obtain one, one must be a full tithe payer. In a country like France, with high taxes and a high cost of living, tithing represents a significant amount of money. It is easy for outsiders to define as extortion this combination of the highest religious exigency and the obligation to pay for it. Some accuse the Church of building temples with the concealed purpose of raising more tithing. It seems that one way to defuse this criticism would be to leave out the tithing question from the recommend interview or to alter it to a willingness to pay tithing.

Once dedicated, a temple is accessible only to Mormons in good standing. The exclusion of non-members, even for a visit outside religious service hours, is not only difficult to understand for outsiders, but reinforces the image of a secret and therefore perfidious society. The exclusion has been, and still is, a major stumbling block in procedures of recognition and of tax exemption. In the United Kingdom, the claim to tax exemption for the temple was denied because the building does not qualify as a place of “public worship.” The appeal went all the way to the House of Lords in 2007 where it was treated in the context of race and religious discrimination laws. The Church lost. I do not know if Church leaders have ever seriously considered revising the policy of accessibility. One could imagine a temple being opened to visitors on Sunday for explanations on the function of temples, for listening to inspirational music and content, such as Music and the Spoken Word, or for meditation. Such a policy would make it a magnificent church building open on the Sabbath, tax exempt, and, in France, a serene space to welcome and appease the worried citizens of Le Chesnay.

Of course, I foster no illusion about the suggestions made.

I’d like to propose three “helps” for reading Isaiah that I think actually help.

First, compare what is in the Book of Mormon with a modern translation of Isaiah.  I’ve posted multiple times (see here, here, and here) about the difficulty of understanding the KJV.  Since the Book of Mormon quotes the KJV for Isaiah, it is a problem here as well.  So here is what you are going to do:  with Book of Mormon Isaiah passages in hand, you are going to go to the NetBible and look up the reference in Isaiah.  You can also click on the word “parallel” near the upper left corner and see a half dozen more translations.  You can then fairly easily fix in your mind what the text plainly says, and then return to the KJV or Book of Mormon text.  But now, you’ll be about 80% of the way there in understanding what the text means.  As an example, consider 2 Nephi 7:11

Behold all ye that kindle fire, that compass yourselves about with sparks, walk in the light of your fire and in the sparks which ye have kindled. This shall ye have of mine hand—ye shall lie down in sorrow.

This verse is virtually identical to Isaiah 50:11, which in the NetBible reads

Look, all of you who start a fire

and who equip yourselves with flaming arrows,

walk in the light of the fire you started

and among the flaming arrows you ignited!

This is what you will receive from me:

you will lie down in a place of pain.

The NIV has this

But now, all you who light fires
and provide yourselves with flaming torches,
go, walk in the light of your fires
and of the torches you have set ablaze.
This is what you shall receive from my hand:
You will lie down in torment.

I’m sure the first thing you notice is that it is written as poetry (in lines), not as prose (in paragraphs)–more on that in a minute.  The language and punctuation make the meaning much clearer.  Now that you have the gist of the verse, you can return to your study of the KJV.

Second, pay attention to the structure of the text.  Something like 90% of Isaiah is written in poetry, and it is a mistake to read biblical poetry as if it were prose.  The nice thing about Isaiah is that the poetry in it is really quite simple:  you only need to know one thing.  (For a fuller treatment of how to read biblical poetry,  see Kevin Barney’s great Ensign article.)  Here’s the one thing:  biblical poetry relies on the relationship between lines of poetry–not (for our purposes) rhyme or rhythm or anything like that.  The lines in Isaiah are almost always what is called synonymous parallelism; you don’t need to know that term, you just need to know that Isaiah seems like he is constantly repeating himself not because he’s crazy but because he’s writing poetry.  Let’s put letters in front of the lines from the NIV version:

A But now, all you who light fires
A and provide yourselves with flaming torches,
B go, walk in the light of your fires
B and of the torches you have set ablaze.
C This is what you shall receive from my hand:
C You will lie down in torment.

The A lines are virtually identical; you don’t need to parse them for differences in meaning or feel put out that he’s being so dang redundant.  Same with the B lines.  The C lines aren’t precisely identical, but close enough for our purposes–the expectation that they will be virtually identical may contribute to making the theological point that what the Lord says you will receive, you’ll receive!

The example I’ve used above is a very interesting verse once you get your mind around the text:  usually in the scriptures, light is a good thing.  But here, people are kindling and following their own lights, and the result of that is sorrow from the Lord.  There’s a lot to think about there:  What am I doing that is kindling and following my own light?  How can I avoid that?  How do I know which light is which?  What caution does this verse imply about people who are, shall we say, well-lit?
I’m strongly convinced that a lack of awareness of biblical poetry is an enormous stumbling block to the reader of Isaiah–you might subconsciously sense that he is being terribly redundant, but you don’t really know what to make of it, and it becomes easy to lose his train of thought.  Read the text as lines of poetry that are synonymous with each other, and things will be much smoother.  Here’s another example that I chose because it isn’t a simple AABBCC:

A Yea, for thus saith the Lord:
B Have I put thee away, or have I cast thee off forever?
A For thus saith the Lord:
B Where is the bill of your mother’s divorcement?
C To whom have I put thee away,
C or to which of my creditors have I sold you?
C Yea, to whom have I sold you?
D Behold, for your iniquities have ye sold yourselves,
D and for your transgressions is your mother put away.
(2 Nephi 7:1)

Surely ABABCCCDD is much more complicated (and certainly atypical), but if you just sat down with the lines here, you could have figured out that pattern yourself.  And I’ll note that the process of trying to determine the pattern is an enormously beneficial one, as it requires you to study the lines of text, figure out what they mean, and how they relate.  It is truly the heart and soul of “pondering” the scriptures.  I can’t imagine trying to read Isaiah without a copy of the text printed as poetry and with ABCs in the margin.

Third, pay attention to the speaker and the audience.  Probably the loopiest thing about Isaiah is that the text will suddenly, without warning, and multiple times within the same chapter, shift who the speaker and who the audience is.  You need no outside information in order to figure out what is going on;  you just  need to read the text multiple times, and then, once you have it figured out, re-read the text now that you know who is speaking to whom.  For example, consider 2 Nephi 7 (=Isaiah 50).  In verses 1-3, the Lord is speaking to rebellious people.  But in v4, the speaker and audience shift suddenly and without warning:  now “the servant” is speaking and the audience is more general.  (We usually interpret “the servant” to be a prophetic representation of the voice of the mortal Jesus Christ, but that’s a topic for another day!)  I think lots of readers get lost here–without consciously thinking about who is speaking and to whom they are speaking, it is very difficult to follow the train of thought.

So, three simple things:  look at a modern translation, read poetry as poetry, and pay attention to the (constantly shifting) speaker and audience.

Let me begin a bit too bluntly: Chapter 2 of Blake Ostler’s Exploring Mormon Thought: The Attributes of God seems, in certain respects, both unmotivated and uneven. Unmotivated? Chapter 1 is largely an analysis of the word “God” in Mormon discourse and a kind of false start of the theological work that begins in chapter 3. Chapter 2 doesn’t fit into this progression in any obvious way. Uneven? The chapter’s title (“The Apostasy and Concepts of Perfection”) leads one to expect only what is actually the first part of the chapter: a brief apostasy narrative followed by an outline of the final product of Christian theology. But what one finds is not only these first elements, but also a lengthy exposition of Hartshornean process theology, provided with no indication of what the reader is supposed to gain from it.

I can’t help but suspect, as I read and re-read this chapter, that something like the following story lies behind it. In a first version of the manuscript, Ostler followed his brief analysis of “God” (chapter 1) with a traditional apostasy narrative (chapter 2), thereby introducing what the Restoration (chapter 3) deposed with its dawn. But early readers expressed concern: “Do you really want to suggest that all of non-Mormon theology can be described as Thomist? What about process thought?” To appease such readers, Ostler added to his original second chapter an exposition of process theology, further using this exposition as a kind of preliminary critique of absolutism and a rough—too rough—anticipation of certain Mormon theologies. . . .

Now, I have no idea whether anything like this took place. Let’s call it a myth and allow it to teach us, as myths are meant to do. What’s to be learned from it? At least this: There’s something wrong with apostasy narratives as used in theology. How so? There’s always and inherently something reductive about them, something that leaves the reader wondering about all the overlooked messiness of history. I don’t want to be too critical here, but Ostler’s apostasy narrative is a good example of this: his Plato isn’t much like the actual Plato of history, as his Neoplatonism isn’t much like the actual Neopolatonism of history; some of the details concerning third- and fourth-century are accurate, but his portrayal of Augustine is a caricature; his brief reference to allegorical interpretation passes over a history of hermeneutics that deserves to be investigated in great detail; and his summary of Thomistic “absolutism” isn’t terribly fair to what Aquinas was really after, though it describes well certain theologies.

Now, if all this sounds harsh, let me be clear that I mean to criticize neither Ostler’s larger project nor his theological capabilities. My aim is rather to suggest that chapter 2 of The Attributes of God is a symptomatic distraction from what is otherwise a generally productive attempt to frame a certain Mormon theological conception of God in analytic terms. Put another way, my aim is to suggest that every attempt to build a Mormon theological project on the foundation of an apostasy narrative is doomed to produce the kinds of problems I’ve just identified. In other words still, the point is to learn from what I take to be Ostler’s faux pas that we might, as Mormon theologians, do well to abandon entirely the project of rooting what we’re doing in an apostasy narrative.

Of course, if the standard—but deeply problematic—Mormon account of the “great apostasy” is conceded, the theologian has to ward of the danger of reproducing the apostasy in her own work by affirming the standard account in order to differentiate her own work from “traditional” theological work. But why should the Mormon theologian concede the standard account of the apostasy when it’s (1) historically problematic and (2) entirely unscriptural? Indeed, to dispense with reason and rigor from the outset—even if largely as a token or symbolic gesture—is to cripple the theological enterprise. Theology, if it’s to accomplish anything other than border maintenance, has to be done in full rigor, and that according to the strictest canons of Western thought.

Is all this to suggest, then, that Mormon theologians should be done with apostasy narratives entirely? Well, there’s something to be said for a Mormon theology ready rigorously to engage with its predecessors and rivals rather than to establish either its own revelatory superiority or its exclusive grasp of truth. But I certainly don’t mean to suggest that Latter-day Saints should rid themselves of the idea of the apostasy. It seems to me that what is needed is a reconceptualization of the apostasy—a reconceptualization that (1) recognizes the complexity of history, (2) roots itself faithfully in scripture, and (3) drastically revises the relationship between theological work and the apostasy. Let me see if I can’t at least outline such a reconceptualization of the apostasy here.

First, what does it mean to recognize the complexity of history? I don’t mean that it’s necessary just to construct a much more detailed historical account of the apostasy—as if we’ve just been a bit too amateurish in our efforts thus far. I mean, rather, that our very conception of the apostasy, as well as of the relationship between theological work and the apostasy, has to be one in which history can’t be reduced to a linear narrative. The apostasy has to be understood as something that didn’t begin with an identifiable accretion to early Christianity, hence as something that didn’t progress from pristine goodness to ever-increasing badness in a linear fashion. In a word, the apostasy can’t be understood to be narrativizable at all.

If that’s clear, what does it mean faithfully to root a reconceptualization of the apostasy in scripture? For starters, the apostasy will have to be thought through the prism of texts like Matthew 13 (in which Jesus talks not of tares succeeding wheat and then of wheat succeeding tares, but of wheat and tares growing alongside each other) and 1 Nephi 13-14 (in which Nephi places the heaviest emphasis not on false conceptions of God but on the role of the covenant and what it means for the interpretation of scripture). I’ll have to leave the investigation of these (and other similar) texts for another occasion (or you can take a look at some preliminary work on each them here and here, respectively), but careful reading reveals that such scriptural texts complicate traditional conceptions of the apostasy drastically.

What, finally, do I have in mind when I speak of revising the relationship between theological work and the apostasy? Something like the following: To do theology is not to part ways with the apostasy, but to get to work on the task of redeeming it. Genuine faithfulness takes the shape neither of facile dismissal nor of facile concession. It has to overcome every allergy to the unfamiliar, but it also has to remain convinced that something unique and crucial has dawned with the Restoration. The faithful Mormon theologian ranges through the whole world, her mind stretched wide as eternity and her intentions saturated with charity. She’s convinced that traces of truth are everywhere, but that they can only be dug out through careful, detailed work—and that every effort she makes must be done in full fidelity to what has emerged in the events of the Restoration: everything she gains from the debris of the apostasy helps her to make better sense of those events, of the scriptures that issued from them, of the work that’s unfolding in their wake.

At this point, it might be objected that, despite my pretensions otherwise, I have indeed been criticizing Ostler’s larger project. That isn’t clear to me yet. At this point, I don’t mean to criticize the larger project. It remains to be seen, over the course of this project, exactly what Ostler’s after. I am a bit nervous about his talk of eventually drawing a sharp line between Mormon and non-Mormon discourse, but I can’t yet see where the (ever-longer) road Ostler takes in that originally projected project will lead.

Similarities- 1) Opens with temporal clause. 2) pre-creation darkness 3) precreation cosmic waters 4) wind/spirit 5) division of the waters to create space for human existence 6) a solid “roof” created to restrain the cosmic waters from reentering that space.

There are also stark differences, which generally fall under the category of semi-polemical monotheistic reinterpretation. That is, while Genesis shares with Mesopotamia (as well as all the other ancient Near Eastern cultures we know of) a very different conception of the physical universe and some other elements, it differs sharply in who’s in charge.

Differences-

• Lack of combat- In contrast to Enuma Eliš, other creation accounts, and other parts of the Old Testament (per the last post), creation is portrayed as being free of combat with other deities or cosmic waters/chaos.
• Monotheistic. – Things which are deities in creation accounts elsewhere are downplayed, removed, and made to be creations, such as sun, moon, stars, sabbath, the waters, and the “great whales” or cosmic sea monsters associated with the deified cosmic waters. See my post here.
• (Well, kinda monotheistic, at least in comparison with its neighbors. Israelites likely believed in existence of other divine beings, though none really offered a challenge to Yahweh.  This is probably reflected in the several “us” passages (Genesis 1:26-27, 3:22, 11:7, etc.)  Unlikely interpretations of the plurals include 1) the “royal we” which does not exist elsewhere in the Hebrew Bible or the ancient Near East (though it does in the Koran!),  2) a plural of deliberation (which is possible but seems to be ruled out by the Hebrew grammar of 3:22) and 3) The Trinity, an early Christian interpretation. Most scholars today go with a reference to God’s Divine Council, a topic much discussed in LDS scholarly circles. (I wrote my senior paper on it at BYU, but see here, here, Michael Heiser’s Evangelical response published by FARMS, David Bokovoy’s response to Heiser, and a final word by Heiser, who has a helpful introduction to the topic. )
• View of humanity. In Enuma Eliš,  humankind is created from blood of a slain rebel deity (associated with Tiamat), whereas in Genesis mankind is of clay and divine breath. In Mesopotamia, only the king was said to be in the image of deity, whereas in Genesis all humans
  share God’s image and likeness. While this may refer to human form, the more important sense is that one acts in God’s place; to be in God’s image is to represent God in some sense. By comparison, then, Genesis is quite humanistic and optimistic about human nature.

One student wisely tried to restate everything I’d done to that point, and I realized I’d left out something very important. Genesis 1 was not taken whole cloth from Enuma Eliš and rewritten as an Israelite one. Rather, Genesis 1 probably represents a long Israelite (oral?) tradition that, in its final form, was influenced and shaped by Enuma Eliš, in order to counter the “doctrine” of it and other creation accounts.[ft1] In other words, it’s like a particularly well-read-and-savvy (and sadly hypothetical) LDS missionary who adapts the gospel message to particularly respond to the doctrinal needs of an investigator in, say, a deeply Muslim setting.

The important thing to realize here is that much of the significance of the account is lost when we try to read it in a vacuum, in absence of its ancient context.

I then wrote Genesis 1:1-3 on the board with some Hebrew left in it, and went through it.

When ‘elohim began to bara’ the heavens and the earth (the earth being tohu-and-vohu, darkness upon the face of the Abyss, and a wind from ‘elohim rachaph-ing over the waters), ‘elohim said, “let there be light.”

The first thing to notice is that Genesis 1 uses ‘elohim exclusively, where 2:4ff uses jehovah ‘elohim as an odd combined singular. LDS usage of these two terms to designate Father and Son is not derived from the Old Testament, nor should we read it in there. It’s a convention that arose, as far as I understand, with James E. Talmage. Until then, LDS tended to use the terms with much more ambiguity. Joseph at least sometimes used ‘elohim as a plural, and the Kirtland dedicatory prayer (D&C 109) which addresses Jehovah several times becomes much less troublesome when we realize that the term is probably referring to God the Father there. As late as 1961 (as pointed out by John Tvedtnes and Barry Bickmore), David O. McKay could refer to “Jehovah and his Son Jesus Christ”. Or, put much less specifically, “The scriptures do not always specify which member of the Godhead is being referred to in a given passage.”- Doctrines of the Gospel Student Manual, 6.

Second, we see that pre-creation, the primordial waters are already there (Abyss/tehom, “the deep”), and God creates from it, not from nothing i.e ex nihilo. (Ex Nihilo handout.) Even the NT picks up on this in 2Pe 3:5 “They deliberately ignore this fact, that by the word of God heavens existed long ago and an earth was formed out of water and by means of water.”

The heavens and earth constitute a merism, expressing totally through two opposing extremes, “day and night” “A to Z” “alpha to omega”, etc., meaning “everything.”

What state is it in? Before creation it is tohu and vohu, a phrase which does not mean empty, but non-productive, purposeless, having no place. And here, I begin to draw heavily on Evangelical Old Testament scholar John Walton and his theory of functional creation, which I’m still mulling over, but has much merit. It’s been talked about several places among the LDS blogs (Dave has three posts here, LDS Science Review here, here, and here for a sampling) Walton has been working on this for years; most recently in a scholarly volume, a popular volume (Google preview, PDF preview), various articles on Creation and Cosmology (from Dictionary of the Old Testament:Pentateuch), his commentary on Genesis (which I’m mostly enjoying), and older works. To get a good overview (and really, you should, because its explanatory power can’t be summarized in a paragraph or two), listen to this lecture of his (mp3).

This graffito in my neighborhood came from a rough gang of unemployed Humanities grads.

Basically, modern westerners conceive of ontology (the nature of being or existence) as material, but ancient Near Eastern cultures had a functional ontology; to exist meant to have a function within an ordered system.  Creation is the process of bringing something into existence. In other words (to greatly simplify), Genesis 1 isn’t interested in material origins or where stuff came from; Creation is about taking the non-functional and assigning it functions, not manufacturing. Everything was there, mostly in place, and God assigns functions and functionaries throughout Genesis 1. We’ll talk about it more next week, but here’s an analogy.

A corporation doesn’t exist just because it has a building or a sign out front. Think of God as CEO, and the building is already there. What he does is assign employees their jobs, how they’ll interact, and what they’re supposed to do; once all of those are in place, the CEO takes his seat in the head office, and opens for business. Now everyone knows what to do, the company can begin to carry out those functions as assigned, as assured and watched over by the CEO.

Bara’ then, the word translated as “create” may well, under the hood, mean something like “to assign a function within a system.” Prior to being bara‘ed, it would be tohu and bohu, functionless. Walton lays this out in great detail with plenty of evidence from within the Hebrew Bible and texts from the surrounding civilizations. It solves a multitude of problems, and I’m quite excited about it.

What happens on Day 1, is that God “creates” Time; that is, he “divides” the light from the darkness. These are not physical things that can be spatially divided, like rocks in a jar. However, we can also understand the verb to mean “designate, distinguish” based on its usage elsewhere in Hebrew, and this makes all kinds of sense. If that seems like a stretch, consider our usage of the spatial term “set apart” in the LDS church. When we set someone apart in a new calling, we give them a new function within an ordered system, we designate or distinguish them differently than we did before. We begin with a period of darkness, then God calls for a period of light, which he designates “day” and the period of darkness “night.” The cyclical period of dark/light are assigned the function of Time. The functionaries of Time (sun, moon, stars) and further related functions (marking of holy days and seasons, etc.) will be so designated on day 4.

Next week, we’ll finish Genesis 1 and Walton, talk about theological diversity, genre, sources, and begin Genesis 2-4. Keep reading, and watch Galaxy Quest.

[ft1] Based on rare vocabulary and other things, some have suggestion that Psalm 104 represents an earlier poetic form of Genesis 1.

CHAPTER 3
Joseph in Egypt saw the Nephites in vision—He prophesied of Joseph Smith, the latter-day seer; of Moses, who would deliver Israel; and of the coming forth of the Book of Mormon. Between 588 and 570 B.C.

 1 And now I speak unto you, Joseph, my last-born. Thou wast born in the wilderness of mine afflictions; yea, in the days of my greatest sorrow did thy mother bear thee.

Compare to words to Jacob (2 Nephi 2:1:  “And now, Jacob, I speak unto you: Thou art my first-born in the days of my tribulation in the wilderness. And behold, in thy childhood thou hast suffered afflictions and much sorrow, because of the rudeness of thy brethren.”)  What do you make of the similarities and differences, particularly the reference to Sariah?

 2 And may the Lord consecrate also unto thee this land, which is a most precious land, for thine inheritance and the inheritance of thy seed with thy brethren, for thy security forever, if it so be that ye shall keep the commandments of the Holy One of Israel.

Compare what was said to Jacob in 2 Nephi 2:2 (“Nevertheless, Jacob, my first-born in the wilderness, thou knowest the greatness of God; and he shall consecrate thine afflictions for thy gain.”)  What do you make of the similarities and differences?

Is Lehi making a link between his experience in the wilderness and Joseph’s relationship with the land?

 3 And now, Joseph, my last-born, whom I have brought out of the wilderness of mine afflictions, may the Lord bless thee forever, for thy seed shall not utterly be destroyed.

What purpose is served by the repetition of last-born, wilderness, and afflictions in these verses?

Who else has been brought out of the wilderness?

“Not utterly destroyed” is pretty weak sauce . . .

 4 For behold, thou art the fruit of my loins; and I am a descendant of Joseph who was carried captive into Egypt. And great were the covenants of the Lord which he made unto Joseph.

What work does “thou art the fruit of my loins” (something he already knows!) do in this sentence?

Jacob’s blessing focused on the creation/fall/agency; this one focuses on Joseph in Egypt.  What do you make of the difference?  What is the relationship between the two narratives?

 5 Wherefore, Joseph truly saw our day. And he obtained a promise of the Lord, that out of the fruit of his loins the Lord God would raise up a righteous branch unto the house of Israel; not the Messiah, but a branch which was to be broken off, nevertheless, to be remembered in the covenants of the Lord that the Messiah should be made manifest unto them in the latter days, in the spirit of power, unto the bringing of them out of darkness unto light—yea, out of hidden darkness and out of captivity unto freedom.

Why would Joseph have seen their day?  What benefit would that have been, and to whom?

Do I read correctly that Lehi describes Jesus’ visit to the New world as happening “in the latter days”?

What does “in the spirit of power” mean?

Why does Lehi go back and modify darkness with “hidden”?  In what way can darkness be hidden, and what might that symbolize?

6 For Joseph truly testified, saying: A seer shall the Lord my God raise up, who shall be a choice seer unto the fruit of my loins.

Why does Lehi switch from Joseph seeing “our day” to “a seer” (who, I presume, is Joseph Smith)?

 7 Yea, Joseph truly said: Thus saith the Lord unto me: A choice seer will I raise up out of the fruit of thy loins; and he shall be esteemed highly among the fruit of thy loins. And unto him will I give commandment that he shall do a work for the fruit of thy loins, his brethren, which shall be of great worth unto them, even to the bringing of them to the knowledge of the covenants which I have made with thy fathers.

In what sense was Joseph Smith “esteemed highly”?  Is this different from how we usually think of him?  Should we therefore think of him differently?

NB v6 and v7 both emphasize that the seer’s role is to the fruit of Joseph’s loins (three times in this verse!).  Is that how we view Joseph Smith’s mission?  Is that how we should view it?

 8 And I will give unto him a commandment that he shall do none other work, save the work which I shall command him. And I will make him great in mine eyes; for he shall do my work.

Why the first sentence?  Isn’t that kind of a given?  (And even if the seer needed that commandment, why mention it to Joseph several thousand years in advance?)

Does this mean that JS did nothing other than God’s work in his life?  How else might you read it?

I’m curious about “I will make him great in mine eyes:”  it strikes me as kind of an unusual idea to think of the Lord making someone great in the Lord’s eyes.  What do you think this phrase means?

What do we learn about true greatness from this verse?

Thinking about the nesting here:  This is us reading Nephi’s summary of what Lehi said to his son Joseph that Joseph in the Bible said that the Lord said to him about (presumably) Joseph Smith.  What do you make of the nesting here?

 9 And he shall be great like unto Moses, whom I have said I would raise up unto you, to deliver my people, O house of Israel.

If Joseph is speaking here (which I think might be the most natural reading), why would the Lord reveal this to Joseph, who lived ~400 years before Moses?  (It is interesting to think about Joseph knowing this bit of ‘future history’ of his people . . . does it change how we read his story?)

Do you think prophets today get this kind of information about the future (“And in that day I will raise up a prophet named ___ who will ___”)?

10 And Moses will I raise up, to deliver thy people out of the land of Egypt.

11 But a seer will I raise up out of the fruit of thy loins; and unto him will I give power to bring forth my word unto the seed of thy loins—and not to the bringing forth my word only, saith the Lord, but to the convincing them of my word, which shall have already gone forth among them.

The initial “but” implies a contrast with Moses; what is the point of the contrast?

Who is the seer in this verse?  How do you know?  If it is Joseph Smith, what do you make of the bouncing back-and-forth from Moses?

Think about the role of “convincing”:  What does it mean and how does it relate to free agency and our belief that the Spirit is the real teacher?

To what does ‘the word that has already gone out’ refer?

General question:  What does the comparison of Moses and Joseph Smith teach you about each of them?

 12 Wherefore, the fruit of thy loins shall write; and the fruit of the loins of Judah shall write; and that which shall be written by the fruit of thy loins, and also that which shall be written by the fruit of the loins of Judah, shall grow together, unto the confounding of false doctrines and laying down of contentions, and establishing peace among the fruit of thy loins, and bringing them to the knowledge of their fathers in the latter days, and also to the knowledge of my covenants, saith the Lord.

Why “grow together”?  Does that not suggest a slow and organic process?  How should that impact how you understand the relationship of the Bible and the Book of Mormon?

W1828 confound

1. To mingle and blend different things, so that their forms or natures cannot be distinguished; to mix in a mass or crowd, so that individuals cannot be distinguished.
2. To throw into disorder.
3. To mix or blend, so as to occasion a mistake of one thing for another.
4. To perplex; to disturb the apprehension by indistinctness of ideas or words.
5. To abash; to throw the mind into disorder; to cast down; to make ashamed.
6. To perplex with terror; to terrify; to dismay; to astonish; to throw into consternation; to stupify with amazement.
7. To destroy; to overthrow.

What does the word ‘confound’ mean in this verse?

In what ways is it true that these two records have resulted in the laying down of contentions and establishing peace?  How does having that idea as the goal for which the two records came together shape how we interact with other people and the texts?

Why is knowledge of their fathers important?

What do you take from this verse that could impact how you study the scriptures?

13 And out of weakness he shall be made strong, in that day when my work shall commence among all my people, unto the restoring thee, O house of Israel, saith the Lord.

Who is the “he” in this verse?

Is it significant that it is “out of” weakness as opposed to “in” or “despite”?

Interesting to see ‘O house of Israel’ as the noun of direct address here.  Why the shift?

14 And thus prophesied Joseph, saying: Behold, that seer will the Lord bless; and they that seek to destroy him shall be confounded; for this promise, which I have obtained of the Lord, of the fruit of my loins, shall be fulfilled. Behold, I am sure of the fulfilling of this promise;

See above for various definitions of confounded.

How can Joseph be sure of the fulfilling of this promise, and why does he mention it?

How does “and they that seek to destroy him shall be confounded” square with the martyrdom of Joseph Smith?

15 And his name shall be called after me; and it shall be after the name of his father. And he shall be like unto me; for the thing, which the Lord shall bring forth by his hand, by the power of the Lord shall bring my people unto salvation.

There’s that free agency versus prophecy question again . . .

In what ways was Joseph Smith “like unto” Joseph?  How does this relate to the similarities with Moses?

Why do you think this material is part of Joseph’s final blessing?  Is it just the coolness factor of him sharing a name with Josephs past and present and future, or is this material related to him in some way?

What do you think Joseph got out of this material?  What should we get out of it?  (Note that past, present, and future are interwoven.)

16 Yea, thus prophesied Joseph: I am sure of this thing, even as I am sure of the promise of Moses; for the Lord hath said unto me, I will preserve thy seed forever.

Again, what to make of the surety statement, especially its repetition?

17 And the Lord hath said: I will raise up a Moses; and I will give power unto him in a rod; and I will give judgment unto him in writing. Yet I will not loose his tongue, that he shall speak much, for I will not make him mighty in speaking. But I will write unto him my law, by the finger of mine own hand; and I will make a spokesman for him.

Skousen reads “I will make one a spokesman for him” here.

Why emphasize the rod and writing?  (I don’t think that those would be some of the first things that we would associate with Moses.)

Does “a” Moses mean “the” Moses or someone else (Joseph Smith?)?  (Or is Moses a title here the way we use Elijah/Elias sometimes?)

Brant Gardiner:

Joseph of Egypt uses “a Moses” as the identifier, almost indicating a title rather than a name. This leave open the possibility that the original was not so specific as to name, but either Lehi or Joseph Smith filled in the obvious person the possible title referred to.  Citation

Judgment in writing is interesting–what do you make of that?

What does it mean that the Lord wrote the law “unto” Moses?

18 And the Lord said unto me also: I will raise up unto the fruit of thy loins; and I will make for him a spokesman. And I, behold, I will give unto him that he shall write the writing of the fruit of thy loins, unto the fruit of thy loins; and the spokesman of thy loins shall declare it.

Skousen reads “I will raise up one unto the fruit” here.

Who is the “me” in this verse?  How do you know?

Who is the “spokesman”?  How do you know?  Did Joseph Smith have more than one spokesman and, if so, how does that affect how you interpret this verse?

Why is spokesman separated from the prophetic role?   (Why not just call a prophet with decent speaking skills?)

Is this verse about Aaron and Moses, or Joseph Smith and (maybe) Oliver Cowdery or (maybe) Hyrum Smith?  How do you know?

19 And the words which he shall write shall be the words which are expedient in my wisdom should go forth unto the fruit of thy loins. And it shall be as if the fruit of thy loins had cried unto them from the dust; for I know their faith.

Does crying from the dust allude to Abel’s blood?  If so, what does that suggest about what is happening here?

20 And they shall cry from the dust; yea, even repentance unto their brethren, even after many generations have gone by them. And it shall come to pass that their cry shall go, even according to the simpleness of their words.

Why “simpleness” and not “plainness”?

In the OT, crying from the dust is usually to protest injustice; here, it is to cry repentance.  What do you make of the change?

(In what way) is this related to Lehi’s admonition that L&L arise from the dust and be men?

21 Because of their faith their words shall proceed forth out of my mouth unto their brethren who are the fruit of thy loins; and the weakness of their words will I make strong in their faith, unto the remembering of my covenant which I made unto thy fathers.

What do you make of the role of faith in v19 and v21?

How exactly does remembering the covenant relate to the rest of the verse?

The beginning of this verse sets up a situation that could be read as implying that their faith causes the Lord to speak.  Is that accurate?  If so, what does it mean to say that people’s actions can cause the Lord to act?  Is that how you understand the Lord’s actions?

What do you make of weakness/words :: strong/faith?  What is the relationship between words and faith here?

22 And now, behold, my son Joseph, after this manner did my father of old prophesy.

What does Lehi accomplish by calling Joseph “my father of old”?

23 Wherefore, because of this covenant thou art blessed; for thy seed shall not be destroyed, for they shall hearken unto the words of the book.

To which book is he referring?

24 And there shall rise up one mighty among them, who shall do much good, both in word and in deed, being an instrument in the hands of God, with exceeding faith, to work mighty wonders, and do that thing which is great in the sight of God, unto the bringing to pass much restoration unto the house of Israel, and unto the seed of thy brethren.

Do you read v23-24 as Lehi’s summary of Joseph’s prophecy?  If you did, what would you conclude about the most important points of Joseph’s prophecy?  Why might Lehi have felt the need to offer this summary–does it imply that the prophecy was not clear in some way?

Who is the person referred to in this verse?

Why “much restoration”?  What does that phrase imply that “a restoration” wouldn’t imply?

25 And now, blessed art thou, Joseph. Behold, thou art little; wherefore hearken unto the words of thy brother, Nephi, and it shall be done unto thee even according to the words which I have spoken. Remember the words of thy dying father. Amen.

CHAPTER 4
Lehi counsels and blesses his posterity—He dies and is buried—Nephi glories in the goodness of God to him—Nephi puts his trust in the Lord forever. Between 588 and 570 B.C.

1 And now, I, Nephi, speak concerning the prophecies of which my father hath spoken, concerning Joseph, who was carried into Egypt.

Why would Nephi do this–does it suggest some insufficiency or lack of clarity in his father’s (or Joseph’s) words?

2 For behold, he truly prophesied concerning all his seed. And the prophecies which he wrote, there are not many greater. And he prophesied concerning us, and our future generations; and they are written upon the plates of brass.

What makes a prophecy “great” in the terms of this verse?  (truthfullness, importance, etc.)

Why would it be important for us to know that these prophecies are on the brass plates?  In what ways is it significant that we get these prophecies filtered through Lehi’s last words to Joseph and not the prophecies themselves?  Why might these prophecies have not been included in the OT as it has come to us?

3 Wherefore, after my father had made an end of speaking concerning the prophecies of Joseph, he called the children of Laman, his sons, and his daughters, and said unto them: Behold, my sons, and my daughters, who are the sons and the daughters of my first-born, I would that ye should give ear unto my words.

Did Jacob and Joseph presumably not have children at this point, or did Lehi not address them for some other reason?

Interesting that he gives Laman the first-born title here . . .

The only other time Laman is distinguished from Lemuel is when he draws the lot to go talk to Laban.  Is that background significant here?

Is it significant that the daughters of this generation (=Lehi’s granddaughters) are addressed, but the daughters of the previous generation (=Lehi’s daughters, others) were not?

4 For the Lord God hath said that: Inasmuch as ye shall keep my commandments ye shall prosper in the land; and inasmuch as ye will not keep my commandments ye shall be cut off from my presence.

This statement seems, in many ways, to be the crux of the message of the BoM.  It deserves careful analysis.  Thoughts to start with:
–What did “commandments” mean to Lehi?  In what ways would his people have had access to those commandments?
–What did “prosper” mean to Lehi?
–Why “in the land”?
–What does it mean to say that “prosper” and “cut off” are opposites?
–What do you make of the antithesis of “in the land” and “from my presence”?
–What do you make of the bifurcated nature of this statement–is there no middle ground?

5 But behold, my sons and my daughters, I cannot go down to my grave save I should leave a blessing upon you; for behold, I know that if ye are brought up in the way ye should go ye will not depart from it.

Skousen reads “brought up in the right way that ye should go” here.

What does “I cannot . . . my grave” mean in this sentence?  Is it simply a rhetorical flourish, or something else?

Why do you think he refers to them as *his* sons and daughters?

The “I know” statement seems a little odd, given that he knows that that is not how they are being brought up.  Why do you think he says that?

Lehi’s statement is very similar to Proverbs 22:7 (“Train up a child in the way he should go: and when he is old, he will not depart from it.”)

The proverbs are usually interpreted as if they had the words “everything else being equal” at the end as an acknowledgement of their, um, proverbial nature.  Do you think that is true of Lehi’s words here?

Given that L&L were in the process of departing from the way they should go, despite the fact that they were brought up that way, how do you understand what Lehi is saying here?  Is Lehi blaming himself for their apostasy and, if so, is he correct?  See also v6–does it suggest that L&L are responsible, not Lehi?  If so, how do you make sense of all of this?

6 Wherefore, if ye are cursed, behold, I leave my blessing upon you, that the cursing may be taken from you and be answered upon the heads of your parents.

Where does “if ye are cursed” come from?

What does this verse teach about childraising?  Agency?  Responsibility?

7 Wherefore, because of my blessing the Lord God will not suffer that ye shall perish; wherefore, he will be merciful unto you and unto your seed forever.

The combo of v6-7 makes me a little uncomfortable–what about all the kids raised by crummy parents who don’t have this blessings?  Are they just out of luck and cursed?

8 And it came to pass that after my father had made an end of speaking to the sons and daughters of Laman, he caused the sons and daughters of Lemuel to be brought before him.

Why does Lehi separate L&L here, especially since, as the next verse will show, he gives them an identical blessing?

9 And he spake unto them, saying: Behold, my sons and my daughters, who are the sons and the daughters of my second son; behold I leave unto you the same blessing which I left unto the sons and daughters of Laman; wherefore, thou shalt not utterly be destroyed; but in the end thy seed shall be blessed.

Lehi labels this as the same blessing he gave to Laman’s kids, but it is not identical.  What do you make of that?

10 And it came to pass that when my father had made an end of speaking unto them, behold, he spake unto the sons of Ishmael, yea, and even all his household.

Do we presume from the lack of reference to Ishmael’s daughters that they have all married off and are spoken to elsewhere, or that they don’t get a blessing, or what?  Or does the “yea, and even . . .” include the daughters?

11 And after he had made an end of speaking unto them, he spake unto Sam, saying: Blessed art thou, and thy seed; for thou shalt inherit the land like unto thy brother Nephi. And thy seed shall be numbered with his seed; and thou shalt be even like unto thy brother, and thy seed like unto his seed; and thou shalt be blessed in all thy days.

Here’s the blessing order:  Jacob, Joseph, Laman, Lemuel, Ishmael, Sam.  Is that what you would have expected?  Why do you think Lehi went in this order?  What happened to Nephi, and his children?  Grant Hardy suggests that Lehi’s blessing to Nephi contained a plea to keep the family together (since that is a theme in Lehi’s other teachings) and that Nephi therefore did not include the blessing in the record since Nephi wasn’t able to do that.  Does that seem like a reasonable supposition?  Is it possible that Lehi didn’t bless Nephi and, if so, why?  Or, for what other reasons might Nephi have omitted the record of the blessing.  (Of course, the reason he wasn’t able to keep the family together was that the Lord told him to get the heck out of dodge.  However, would he have gotten this command had he not made L&L so angry?  Is that why the theme of the Psalm of Nephi is Nephi’s anger?)  Also see 2 Ne 1:29–that’s close to a blessing for Nephi.  I think the lack of a blessing for Nephi in the BoM is a huge lacuna–what are we to make of it?

John W. Welch:

One of the most enduring legacies of Lehi’s last will and testament appears to be the organization of his descendants into tribes. Just as the ancient patriarch Jacob left the House of Israel with a family structure composed of twelve tribes, Lehi addressed his posterity in seven groups. This seems to be the precedent that established the legal order that lasted among these people for almost one thousand years. After speaking to several of his sons collectively (2 Nephi 1:1–29), Lehi spoke (1) to Zoram in 2 Nephi 1:30–32, (2) to Jacob in 2 Nephi 2, (3) to Joseph in 2 Nephi 3, (4) to the children of Laman in 2 Nephi 4:3–7, (5) to the children of Lemuel in 2 Nephi 4:8–9, (6) to the sons of Ishmael in 2 Nephi 4:10, and (7) to Sam together with Nephi in 2 Nephi 4:11. The seven groups recognizable here are exactly the same as the seven tribes mentioned three other times in the Book of Mormon, each time in the rigid order of “Nephites, Jacobites, Josephites, Zoramites, Lamanites, Lemuelites, and Ishmaelites” (Jacob 1:13; 4 Nephi 38; Mormon 1:8; see also D&C 3:17–18). Though kingships and judgeships might come and go in Nephite history, the underlying family fabric of Nephite society attributable to Lehi’s testament remained permanent (e.g. 3 Nephi 7:2–4). Even in the final days of the Nephite demise, Mormon still saw the general population divided along this precise seven-part line (Mormon 1:8). The fact that this exact organization persisted so long is evidence that Lehi’s last words to his sons in this regard were taken as constitutionally definitive-just as the organization of Israel into twelve tribes in the earlier age had been essential to the political, social, religious and legal structure there.  I see Lehi here acting like Jacob of old. Both Jacob and Lehi pronounced their blessings to “all [their] household” who were gathered around them shortly before they died to organize a household of God in a new land of promise (2 Nephi 4:12; cf. Gen. 49). Seeing Lehi in the patriarchal tradition is borne out by the fact that Lehi was remembered by Nephites from beginning to end as “father Lehi.” Just as Israelites have always known Abraham as “father Abraham,” so the Nephites including Enos, Benjamin, Alma the Younger, Helaman, the later Nephi and Mormon, consistently remembered Lehi as “our father Lehi” (Enos 1:25; Mosiah 1:4; 2:34; Alma 9:9; 18:36, 36:22; 56:3; Hel. 8:22; 3 Nephi 10:17). Since Lehi is the only figure in the Book of Mormon called “our father,” this designation appears to be a unique reference to Lehi’s patriarchal position at the head of Nephite civilization, society, and religion. Citation

What does this verse suggest about their inheritance practices?

I’m kind of fascinated by Sam; he seems to be a good guy but also sort of a non-actor in the family drama.  His passivity reminds me in some ways of Isaac’s in the OT.  (Stuff is always happening to Isaac; he never does anything.)  What do you make of Sam’s character?  What are we to learn from him?

How would you feel if you were Sam and got this blessing?  (At its most hostile reading, there is a sense in which this erases Sam by incorporating his descendants into Nephi’s.)

12 And it came to pass after my father, Lehi, had spoken unto all his household, according to the feelings of his heart and the Spirit of the Lord which was in him, he waxed old. And it came to pass that he died, and was buried.

Where are Nephi’s sisters in all of this?  Did he speak to Sariah?  (This is the moment where it is hard to be a female scripture reader–several chapters of “Dad’s final words” and yet not one word about Sariah’s death (did I miss something?), let alone any advice she gave her children that was worth writing down.)

“According . . .” is interesting.  Does it allow for the possibility that the feelings of his heart were different from the Spirit?

“Waxed old” is interesting–it sounds like something that would take 30 years, but I don’t think that is the case here.  Why do you think Nephi used this expression?

13 And it came to pass that not many days after his death, Laman and Lemuel and the sons of Ishmael were angry with me because of the admonitions of the Lord.

I love what he leaves out:  “angry at me because I told them the admonitions of the Lord, probably not at a good time–what with Dad just dying–and in my usually naive and tactless way.”  See the apologia in the next verse.

14 For I, Nephi, was constrained to speak unto them, according to his word; for I had spoken many things unto them, and also my father, before his death; many of which sayings are written upon mine other plates; for a more history part are written upon mine other plates.

Skousen reads “according to the word” here.

“Constrained” is interesting.  Why do you think Nephi used that word, the same one he used of the Spirit constraining him to kill Laban?

“More history” is the classic example of poor grammar in the BoM.  What do instances such as this suggest to you about the translation process and the degree of control that Joseph Smith had in it?

15 And upon these I write the things of my soul, and many of the scriptures which are engraven upon the plates of brass. For my soul delighteth in the scriptures, and my heart pondereth them, and writeth them for the learning and the profit of my children.

What do you make of Nephi’s opposition between “the more history part” and the “things of my soul”?  (It seems the historians wouldn’t be too thrilled about that . . .) Why would Nephi have copied from the brass plates to these plates?

There are not a lot of references to Nephi’s children.  Does the reference in this verse have anything to do with the fact that Nephi has not narrated a blessing from Lehi to his (Nephi’s) children?  Why do these verses about the record keeping show up in the spot where we would have expected to read about Lehi’s blessing of Nephi and his children?

16 Behold, my soul delighteth in the things of the Lord; and my heart pondereth continually upon the things which I have seen and heard.

This verse is an interesting repetition (but with some changes) of material from the previous verse.  What do you make of the repetition and the lacuna?  What do you make of the leap from scriptures in the previous verse to “things which I have seen and heard” in this verse?

What kind of scripture study leads to delight? What kind of study leads to pondering?  I think this verse is asking us to reflect on our own feelings about the scriptures; do we delight in them?  Do we ponder them?

I find it interesting that all of this pondering and delighting is followed by a psalm of lament!  I think true scripture study might be just as likely to make us morose as joyful!

Susan W. Tanner:

“My soul delighteth in the things of the Lord” (2 Nephi 4:16)—His law, His life, His love. To delight in Him is to acknowledge His hand in our lives. Our gospel duty is to do what is right and to love and delight in what is right. When we delight to serve Him, our Father in Heaven delights to bless us. “I, the Lord, … delight to honor those who serve me in righteousness and in truth unto the end” (D&C 76:5). I want to be worthy always of His delight. Apr 02 GC

17 Nevertheless, notwithstanding the great goodness of the Lord, in showing me his great and marvelous works, my heart exclaimeth:
O wretched man that I am!
Yea, my heart sorroweth because of my flesh;
my soul grieveth because of mine iniquities.

(Note that I have reformatted this section as poetry, given the general agreement that v17-35 constitute “the Psalm of Nephi.”)

Webster 1828  wretched:

 1. Very miserable; sunk into deep affliction or distress, either from want, anxiety or grief.
2. Calamitous; very afflicting; as the wretched condition of slaves in Algiers.
3. Worthless; paltry; very poor or mean; as a wretched poem; a wretched cabin.
4. Despicable; hatefully vile and contemptible. He was guilty of wretched ingratitude.

I think I have always thought of definition (3); but (1) is quite different.  Which definition do you think is best here?  It would be interesting to make the case of (3) or (4) as a reaction to not getting a blessing from his father . . .

Is “O wretched man!” the right attitude to have?  Is Nephi a wretched man?

Does the exclaiming and sorrowing heart in this verse have any relation to the pondering heart in the previous two verses?

If you read heart/sorrow/flesh and soul/grieve/iniquities as poetic parallelism, then what do you make of the link between flesh and iniquities?

18 I am encompassed about,
because of the temptations and the sins which do so easily beset me.

Do you think Nephi was beset with sin more than the average Joe?  Does your answer to the previous question affect how you understand this verse?

What is he encompassed about by?

19 And when I desire to rejoice, my heart groaneth because of my sins;
nevertheless, I know in whom I have trusted.

Should we limit our rejoicing if we are sinful?

What is the relationship between the second phrase and the first phrase here?

Marion D. Hanks:

Nephi understood that true remorse is a gift from God, not a curse, but a blessing.  Apr 1979 GC

20 My God hath been my support;
he hath led me through mine afflictions in the wilderness;
and he hath preserved me upon the waters of the great deep.

This verse is very typical of the language of the psalms, where we would probably take it to be metaphorical.  For Nephi, of course, this is literal!

21 He hath filled me with his love,
even unto the consuming of my flesh.

Is the consuming of flesh what you would have expected to be the result of being filled with God’s love?  What might this imply?

22 He hath confounded mine enemies,
unto the causing of them to quake before me.

Are L&L is enemies?  Is that a productive way for Nephi to think about them?

23 Behold, he hath heard my cry by day,
and he hath given me knowledge by visions in the night-time.

How do the two halves of this verse relate?

24 And by day have I waxed bold in mighty prayer before him;
yea, my voice have I sent up on high;
and angels came down and ministered unto me.

Of what does the ministering of angels consist?  (I always unconsciously picture them putting a band-aid on someone’s forearm and patting their back, but I suspect that isn’t quite right.)

Nice balance between sent up and came down.  Thoughts on what this might teach us about prayer?

25 And upon the wings of his Spirit hath my body been carried away upon exceedingly high mountains.
And mine eyes have beheld great things,
yea, even too great for man;
therefore I was bidden that I should not write them.

Is this a reference to his vision in 1 Ne 11?  If so, what does it tell us about how we should interpret that vision?

What does the metaphor of the Spirit having wings imply to you?

26 O then, if I have seen so great things,
if the Lord in his condescension unto the children of men hath visited men in so much mercy,
why should my heart weep and my soul linger in the valley of sorrow,
and my flesh waste away, and my strength slacken, because of mine afflictions?

Skousen reads “had visited me in so much mercy” here.

What can you learn from this verse about dealing with afflictions?

27 And why should I yield to sin, because of my flesh?
Yea, why should I give way to temptations,
that the evil one have place in my heart to destroy my peace and afflict my soul?
Why am I angry because of mine enemy?

Why do we do things that we know we shouldn’t do?

Why did Nephi choose to use questions here?

Compare this verse’s reference to enemies with v22.  What do you conclude?

28 Awake, my soul! No longer droop in sin.
Rejoice, O my heart,
and give place no more for the enemy of my soul.

Why “awake”?  Is this related to Lehi’s use of the word in speaking to L&L in 2 Ne 1?

This is the only use of “droop” in all of the standard works.

29 Do not anger again because of mine enemies.
Do not slacken my strength because of mine afflictions.

The idea of anger at enemies seems to be a major theme.  Why do you think that was central for Nephi?  How is it relevant to us today?  May I have an exemption for being angry at pedophiles and terrorists?

What is the relationship between the two sentences here?  Does the anger:enemies::slacken:afflictions relationship surprise you?  What might we learn from it?

30 Rejoice, O my heart, and cry unto the Lord, and say: O Lord, I will praise thee forever; yea, my soul will rejoice in thee, my God, and the rock of my salvation.

I’m curious about the idea of ‘telling your heart what to say.’  How do you understand what is going on here?  Is there a risk of phony self-denial in this?

NB shift to speaking directly to the Lord.  This is enallage, not a grammatical error but a deliberate rhetorical technique that in this case shows a move from distance from the Lord to union with the Lord.  More on this idea here.

31 O Lord, wilt thou redeem my soul?
Wilt thou deliver me out of the hands of mine enemies?

Wilt thou make me that I may shake at the appearance of sin?

Are you surprised that Nephi is asking these questions?
Do you get the impression that Nephi is really struggling with his personal sinfulness here?  Does this surprise you?

It would be interesting to consider both the form and content of Nephi’s questions and commands in this psalm.  If you look at those, what patterns emerge?

32 May the gates of hell be shut continually before me, because that my heart is broken and my spirit is contrite!
O Lord, wilt thou not shut the gates of thy righteousness before me,
that I may walk in the path of the low valley,
that I may be strict in the plain road!

Do you conclude from this verse that a contrite spirit and broken heart can shut the gates of hell?  But that the Lord controls the gates of righteousness?

33 O Lord, wilt thou encircle me around in the robe of thy righteousness!
O Lord, wilt thou make a way for mine escape before mine enemies!
Wilt thou make my path straight before me!
Wilt thou not place a stumbling block in my way—
but that thou wouldst clear my way before me,
and hedge not up my way, but the ways of mine enemy.

Encircling in a robe is an odd image–what do you think Nephi is getting at here?

See here for the idea that the encircling in the robe is a ritual embrace symbolizing entering into the presence of the Lord:

What do you think about Nephi praying for his enemies to have trouble?

I’m fascinated by the verbs here:  encircle, make a way, make a path, place a stumbling block, clear the way, not hedge the way.  What do these verbs suggest?

Would not question marks work better in this verse, and perhaps be more consistent with the previous questions?

34 O Lord, I have trusted in thee,
and I will trust in thee forever.
I will not put my trust in the arm of flesh;
for I know that cursed is he that putteth his trust in the arm of flesh.
Yea, cursed is he that putteth his trust in man or maketh flesh his arm.

“Arm” is usually a symbol for power in the OT.  In what ways might we be tempted to trust the power of flesh?  In what ways might Nephi have been tempted to do that?

35 Yea, I know that God will give liberally to him that asketh.
Yea, my God will give me, if I ask not amiss;
therefore I will lift up my voice unto thee;
yea, I will cry unto thee, my God, the rock of my righteousness.
Behold, my voice shall forever ascend up unto thee,
my rock and mine everlasting God. Amen.

Many readers regard this as “The Psalm of Nephi.”  It seems that v34-35 do something different (less poetic, more didactic), and yet the “amen” points to the end of v35 as the end of the unit.  What to make of this?  Do you think this should be read as a psalm?

How would you describe the change in Nephi’s emotional state from the beginning to the end of the psalm?  What causes it to change?

Can you discern a structure in this passage?  How would you outline it? What themes can you identify? What emotions/moods are portrayed?
Are there occasions when Nephi’s word choice is particularly compelling?Consider the images in this text.  Which ones resonate with you? Why do you think Nephi included this passage in the sacred record?

Is there a link between v15-16 (scripture study) and the psalm or is Nephi changing the subject?

I feel like we are seeing a different Nephi in this chapter–one with weaknesses and doubts who writes poetry.  Do you think this is related to the death of Lehi?  What else do you take from this chapter?

Summary thus far:  Lehi gives blessings to all of his descendants except for Nephi (and his kids).  Lehi dies.  Nephi preaches to his brothers, who become angry with him.  Nephi records this rather un-Nephi-like psalm.  What insight does this context give you to what is going on in this chapter?

This is probably the only psalm in the BoM.  Why is there a psalm here?  Is it related to the absence of Nephi’s blessing?

(In what way) is the psalm of Nephi related to the recent death of Lehi?

It seems easy to locate the psalm in the context of increased conflict with his brothers after the death of Lehi, but a little harder to make sense of the context of delighting in the scriptures.  What do you make of those verses as the context for the psalm?

CHAPTER 5
The Nephites separate themselves from the Lamanites, keep the law of Moses, and build a temple—Because of their unbelief, the Lamanites are cursed, receive a skin of blackness, and become a scourge unto the Nephites. Between 588 and 559 B.C.

Note that the chapter heading has been changed in the newest online edition of the scriptures to remove the reference to a “skin of blackness.”  See here for more info.  (Some of the footnotes have been changed as well.)

1 Behold, it came to pass that I, Nephi, did cry much unto the Lord my God, because of the anger of my brethren.

Interesting that in the previous chapter, he seemed to be very focused on his own anger and sins, but that the Psalm of Nephi is bracketed by references to the anger of his brethren.  Given those brackets, how does that affect your interpretation of the psalm?  If the focus of the context is on the anger of his brethren, then why is the content of the psalm focused on Nephi’s own weaknesses?

I’m curious about the anger; it seems to be caused by Lehi’s death.  Why would they be angrier now than they were when Lehi was alive?

2 But behold, their anger did increase against me, insomuch that they did seek to take away my life.

3 Yea, they did murmur against me, saying: Our younger brother thinks to rule over us; and we have had much trial because of him; wherefore, now let us slay him, that we may not be afflicted more because of his words. For behold, we will not have him to be our ruler; for it belongs unto us, who are the elder brethren, to rule over this people.

Why do you think Nephi recorded this verse?

4 Now I do not write upon these plates all the words which they murmured against me. But it sufficeth me to say, that they did seek to take away my life.

5 And it came to pass that the Lord did warn me, that I, Nephi, should depart from them and flee into the wilderness, and all those who would go with me.

NB that flight, not fight (or anything else), is the appropriate response here.

Why was this the right call, after all of those calls to unity and preaching repentance before this?  (Is the fact that they were seeking his life what made the difference?)

Jim F.:  “Contrast verse 1 with 2 Nephi 4:27-29. Following the pattern of Moses and Israel that Nephi has referred to on several occasions, Nephi leaves Laman and Lemuel, taking his family and those who would follow him into the wilderness. The Doctrine and Covenants uses a related imagery when it commands us to leave Babylon, (See, for example, D&C 133:5, 7, and 14). What kinds of meanings can this type have for us today? How can we leave “Babylon” and go into the wilderness? Where is the wilderness today?”

Brant Gardiner points out that in previous, similar situations, Nephi had been protected by an angel.  Why didn’t that happen here and what might we learn from that?

6 Wherefore, it came to pass that I, Nephi, did take my family, and also Zoram and his family, and Sam, mine elder brother and his family, and Jacob and Joseph, my younger brethren, and also my sisters, and all those who would go with me. And all those who would go with me were those who believed in the warnings and the revelations of God; wherefore, they did hearken unto my words.

John L. Sorensen:

Ishmael’s two sons evidently married daughters of Lehi. Nephi’s cryptic mention of his sisters going with him when the colonists split into two factions in the land of promise (2 Nephi 5:6) implied to Sidney B. Sperry that they had left their husbands, sons of Ishmael. I agree. Professor Sperry supported this idea by citing a statement made by Erastus Snow in an address printed in the Journal of Discourses. Apostle Snow said, “The Prophet Joseph Smith informed us that the record of Lehi was contained on the 116 pages that were first translated and subsequently stolen . . . [and] that Ishmael['s] sons married into Lehi’s family, and Lehi’s sons married Ishmael’s daughters.”  Citation

7 And we did take our tents and whatsoever things were possible for us, and did journey in the wilderness for the space of many days. And after we had journeyed for the space of many days we did pitch our tents.

8 And my people would that we should call the name of the place Nephi; wherefore, we did call it Nephi.

9 And all those who were with me did take upon them to call themselves the people of Nephi.

10 And we did observe to keep the judgments, and the statutes, and the commandments of the Lord in all things, according to the law of Moses.

11 And the Lord was with us; and we did prosper exceedingly; for we did sow seed, and we did reap again in abundance. And we began to raise flocks, and herds, and animals of every kind.

Does this verse give you some insight into what “prosper” means in the BoM?

12 And I, Nephi, had also brought the records which were engraven upon the plates of brass; and also the ball, or compass, which was prepared for my father by the hand of the Lord, according to that which is written.

Why the (unnecessary) “I, Nephi” here?

Did his brothers fight him for these objects (and, if so, is it odd that he doesn’t mention it) or just let them go?

13 And it came to pass that we began to prosper exceedingly, and to multiply in the land.

What work does this verse do that v11 didn’t do?  Or is it just redundant and, if so, why?

14 And I, Nephi, did take the sword of Laban, and after the manner of it did make many swords, lest by any means the people who were now called Lamanites should come upon us and destroy us; for I knew their hatred towards me and my children and those who were called my people.

Do you think that v14 implies that he went back for the sword (since v13 has them already prospering in the wilderness), or is he telling the story out of order?  If he goes back, that is an interesting repetition of all of the trips back to Jrsm.  If he is telling it out of order, why would he do that?

If you read the three items together (plate, ball, sword), what do you make of the triad?  Are there any obvious patterns?

Do they copy the plates and/or the ball?  Why only the sword?

See Mosiah 1:16 for how these three items will come to legitimate leadership.  In that light, how do they relate to the items in the ark in the OT?

Does the sword of Laban function symbolically?  Why does Nephi bother mentioning it?

Is Nephi wrong or right to think that their sword-of-Laban clones will protect them?

This is an interesting context in which to introduce the concept of “Lamanites.”  What effect does it have on the reader to be introduced to the Lamanites this way?

Re-read v2-4.  Is Nephi right about “hatred”?

15 And I did teach my people to build buildings, and to work in all manner of wood, and of iron, and of copper, and of brass, and of steel, and of gold, and of silver, and of precious ores, which were in great abundance.

Why was this verse included in the record?  (Is it only to set the stage for v16?)  How did Nephi gain this knowledge?

16 And I, Nephi, did build a temple; and I did construct it after the manner of the temple of Solomon save it were not built of so many precious things; for they were not to be found upon the land, wherefore, it could not be built like unto Solomon’s temple. But the manner of the construction was like unto the temple of Solomon; and the workmanship thereof was exceedingly fine.

Do you see some tension between the abundant precious things in v15 and the lack of them in v16?  And why is Nephi bothering to tell us about all of this, anyway?

In the OT, it is emphasized that the command to build a temple comes from the Lord, not individual initiative.  Is that the case here?

Why the references to Solomon?  (It seems that given their wilderness state, they might have modeled the tabernacle.)

Is this an inside baseball verse, or is there a universal principle here?  Why do you think Nephi included these details about temple construction?

17 And it came to pass that I, Nephi, did cause my people to be industrious, and to labor with their hands.

Wouldn’t this have been a given?  Why would Nephi have thought to mention this?  Is it related to the previous verse?  The next verse?

18 And it came to pass that they would that I should be their king. But I, Nephi, was desirous that they should have no king; nevertheless, I did for them according to that which was in my power.

Nephi’s desires are a huge theme in his vision–is that related to the reference to his desires here?

Does this mean that Nephi was their king?  Is he deliberately evasive here?

If he was the king, what do you make of the fact that he went against his own best judgment here?

It seems clear above, when they name the land after him, that Nephi was already functioning as a leader.  What, then, did they want to do in this verse–a formal coronation?

In (most of) the OT, the desire for a king is not a righteous desire.  (See 1 Sam 8)  Is that the case here?  If so, what do you make of it–the people righteous enough to want to go with Nephi pretty quickly then would be unrighteous enough to want a king.

How does this verse relate to the anti- and pro-monarchy polemics in the OT?

It is hard to imagine this group exceeding 30 or so people at this point.  Is “king” the best word to use here?

Noel B. Reynolds:

The widespread assumption that Nephi was a king cannot be supported conclusively from a reading of the text. If anything, the Book of Mormon text may tilt against that assumption, and at best the textual support for Nephi’s kingship is ambiguous.   Citation  (The entire article is very interesting.)

19 And behold, the words of the Lord had been fulfilled unto my brethren, which he spake concerning them, that I should be their ruler and their teacher. Wherefore, I had been their ruler and their teacher, according to the commandments of the Lord, until the time they sought to take away my life.

This is curious:  Why bother mentioning the fulfillment of this promise, when it was only temporarily fulfilled?  Or does it apply to Nephi’s people and not the Lamanites?  (Was he never supposed to be a ruler/teacher/king of the Lamanites–could L&L have been right about that–although the last line of the verse seems to speak against that?)

What do you make of the leap from king in v18 to ruler and teacher in v19?  If he was a king, was Nephi exceeding what the Lord had asked him to do?

20 Wherefore, the word of the Lord was fulfilled which he spake unto me, saying that: Inasmuch as they will not hearken unto thy words they shall be cut off from the presence of the Lord. And behold, they were cut off from his presence.

I’m thinking it is curious that Nephi has gone back to this topic right after the discussion of temple building.  I think the point might be that if the temple is in the wilderness with Nephi, then this is the sense in which L&L are removed from the presence of the Lord.

21 And he had caused the cursing to come upon them, yea, even a sore cursing, because of their iniquity. For behold, they had hardened their hearts against him, that they had become like unto a flint; wherefore, as they were white, and exceedingly fair and delightsome, that they might not be enticing unto my people the Lord God did cause a skin of blackness to come upon them.

Is the “him” in this verse the Lord?

NB that they were “white” in the same way that Middle Eastern people today are “white,” not in the same way that Scandinavians are “white.”

What does it say about Nephi’s people that the Lamanites would have been enticing to them otherwise?  What does it say about Nephi’s people that the Lamanites were not enticing to them with a skin of blackness?

The Lamanites and Nephites are adopting different lifestyles (hunter/gatherer versus agricultural, lowlands v. highlands).  Is the skin color change related to that?

I think the assumption is that “enticing” refers to a desire to marry.  Might it mean something else?  What if the entire lifestyle would be enticing (sidenote:  I believe studies show that hunter/gatherers spend less time working than farmers do), and the mark is meant to remind them of the consequences of . . . ah, here is where I get hung up.  Is the hunting/gathering wrong in some sense, or just a happenstance side effect of the cultural divergence?  Or, does it take us back to the Cain and Abel story with its difference in mode of earning a living?

Can you read the skin color as a separate thing from the curse?  (The way some people read the mark of Cain as separate from the curse of Cain.)

Gardiner quoting Sorensen:  “The scripture is clear that the Nephites were prejudiced against the Lamanites (Jacob 3:5; Mosiah 9:1-2; Alma 26:23-25). “  Is that an accurate statement?  If it is, was that the right thing for them to do?

Brant Gardiner:

Because we can see the Nephites as possessing a prejudice typical of their age, does that mean that we impute prejudice to God? Of course not. God’s “hand” in this matter was to mark the Lamanites as separate. The prejudices came from the Nephites themselves.  Citation

He suggests that lifestyle plus intermarriage with local people produced the change of skin color.  (How is that consonant with the Lord saying that the skin color was to stop them from being enticing?  Or is it just a big metaphorical way of saying that their intermarrying made them not enticing to the Nephites, and the record here is expressed in a shortened way?)

The “mark” of Cain was meant so that people would not kill him (that is, it was protective).  This mark is so that the people will not be enticing.  What do you make of the difference?

Rodney Turner:

For this reason the Lamanites were declared to be “more righteous” than the “enlightened” Nephites, who despised them for their dark skins and primitive ways. It was their moral virtue that assured their preservation and eventual redemption, even as the immoralities of the early Nephites led to their destruction in the days of Mosiah I (see Jacob 3:39; Jarom 1:10; Omni 1:5, 12–13). . . . While the dark skin was initially designed to insulate Nephi’s followers against the false traditions and godless ways of their Lamanite brethren, in a later turn-about it served to protect the Lamanite people from the fatal sin of their supposedly superior Nephite brethren. The Lamanites’ righteousness in this area was one reason why they were still flourishing more than two centuries after the original Nephite kingdom ceased to exist (see Omni 1:5). In the third century BC, Mosiah I led an exodus of “as many as would hearken unto the voice of the Lord” (Omni 1:13) from the land of Nephi farther northward to the land of Zarahemla, where they united with the more numerous people of Zarahemla (see Omni 1:12–19; see also Mosiah 25:2). Those who remained “in the land of their first inheritance” (Mosiah 9:1; 10:13) were either destroyed by the Lamanites or assimilated into their culture. Such was the irony of the curse! Citation

See Alma 23:18 and 3 Nephi 2:14-16 for removal of the curse/mark.

“Flint” is a rare word in the scriptures.  It is, according to W1828, used for things that are proverbially dark.  Is there a link between the dark flint and the dark skin?  Is the point just that their external state mirrored their internal state so that the Nephites would not be deceived?  If so, why would the Lord do this–wouldn’t it have been better to teach the Nephites not to look at external states and use them to judge internal states?  In fact, wouldn’t this curse just encourage them to judge the internal by the external?

See Alma 3:6-16 and Jacob 3:5-8.

Lamentations 5:10:  “Our skin was black like an oven because of the terrible famine.”
Lamantations 4:8:  “Their visage is blacker than a coal; they are not known in the streets: their skin cleaveth to their bones; it is withered, it is become like a stick.”
Job 30:30:  “My skin is black upon me, and my bones are burned with heat.”

I think most LDS commenters are right that these verses should be read outside of the matrix of US racial issues.  That said, what do you make of the fact that these verses (which, on their face, are most difficult) were included in a record written “for our day”?

22 And thus saith the Lord God: I will cause that they shall be loathsome unto thy people, save they shall repent of their iniquities.

Given that repentance makes the “skin of blackness” go away, does this suggest that it is not, in fact, what we would call a skin of blackness?  Should this be understood figuratively and, if so, what would that mean?

23 And cursed shall be the seed of him that mixeth with their seed; for they shall be cursed even with the same cursing. And the Lord spake it, and it was done.

How is this verse relevant to us today?

24 And because of their cursing which was upon them they did become an idle people, full of mischief and subtlety, and did seek in the wilderness for beasts of prey.

Is it the skin color or some other element of the curse that leads them to idleness, etc.?

Is seeking for beasts of prey wrong?  Why?

This verse, not to mention what comes before it, seems to play into the very, very worst stereotypes and beliefs about African Americans.  What do you do with these verses?

25 And the Lord God said unto me: They shall be a scourge unto thy seed, to stir them up in remembrance of me; and inasmuch as they will not remember me, and hearken unto my words, they shall scourge them even unto destruction.

Given that the purpose of the skin of blackness was so that they would not intermarry with the Nephites, what would have constituted the “scourge” part?  In other words, what would their relationship have been?

Is it fair to say that they put the mark upon themselves? Alma 3:13, 14, 18.

26 And it came to pass that I, Nephi, did consecrate Jacob and Joseph, that they should be priests and teachers over the land of my people.

“Over the land” as opposed to “over my people” is unusual and interesting–what do you think it means?

27 And it came to pass that we lived after the manner of happiness.

What does this verse mean?  Why include it?  How would you explain “the manner of happiness.”

28 *And thirty years had passed away from the time we left Jerusalem.

29 And I, Nephi, had kept the records upon my plates, which I had made, of my people thus far.

30 And it came to pass that the Lord God said unto me: Make other plates; and thou shalt engraven many things upon them which are good in my sight, for the profit of thy people.

31 Wherefore, I, Nephi, to be obedient to the commandments of the Lord, went and made these plates upon which I have engraven these things.

32 And I engraved that which is pleasing unto God. And if my people are pleased with the things of God they will be pleased with mine engravings which are upon these plates.

33 And if my people desire to know the more particular part of the history of my people they must search mine other plates.

34 And it sufficeth me to say that *forty years had passed away, and we had already had wars and contentions with our brethren.

How did we get from the happiness in v27 to wars?  Does this mean wars with Lamanites, or civil wars among the Nephites?

General Themes:
(1) What does the Psalm of Nephi do to our view of Nephi?

(2) The driver of the action in these chapters is L&L’s anger, particularly after Lehi’s death when Nephi begins to be a ruler and teacher over them.   It seems too pat to say that we need to recognize the authority of those over us.  What else might we do with these chapters?

(3) Transitions:  Lehi’s death, the separation of Lehi’s descendents.  What do we take from these stories?

—————————-

Additional Resources:
“The Psalm of Nephi:  A Lyric Reading”

“Lehi’s Last Will and Testament: A Legal Approach”

“The Israelite Background of Moses Typology in the Book of Mormon”

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As we all know, one of our primary responsibilities as teachers is to create an atmosphere where members of the class can commune with the spirit and receive revelation. One of the most important ways I’ve seen this done is by doing what God and angels are continually doing in the scriptures: asking questions.[fn1] Here are some tips about asking questions from my experience as a teacher.

1. Interrogate people. Literally. But in a kind way.

1A. Follow up questions are really, really important, particularly if we want to get beyond worn out Sunday School answers, or help people see anew the profundity of the worn out Sunday School answers. Example:

You: What should we do when, like happened to Nephi, even those we look to for answers don’t seem to have the answers?

Student: Pray

You: Why should you pray?

Student: Because God knows what you should do.

You: Ok, but I’ll just be honest, there are times when I wasn’t sure what to do, and I prayed, and I still didn’t know what to do. Was praying still the right thing?

Student: Yes.

You: Why?

The problem with the worn out Sunday School answers is that they’re robotic and are often offered without any attempt to account for the complexities of real life. Asking questions can help force people to either give different, more thoughtful answers, or think all over again about their robotic answers.

1B. Helping people clarify their comments is crucial – not only does it help them think carefully through their first answer and share additional insight, but helps everyone else to do the same.

1C. Interrogation can also be a safe or non-confrontational means of downplaying questionable answers. Sometimes the follow up questions can be posed to everyone. You don’t have to say, “Huh, I think that’s wrong.” Instead, you can just give opportunity for different viewpoints to be shared. Follow up questions can also make the person who gave the questionable answer rethink a bit. Further questions can be an excellent way of guiding the discussion away from whatever you felt was questionable. Remember, when people give questionable answers, the goal is not to call them out and denounce them, but to help them and everyone else think through the issues more carefully.

2. Don’t ask obvious/Sunday School questions: they make people freeze; they’re awkward; no one wants to answer them; and they waste time.

2A. If you feel it’s important, than ask and answer it quickly yourself, or else break the ice by saying something like, “Ok, obvious question but important to get straight before we go on: what was Nephi’s reaction here?”

Obvious questions are best when they are set-up for deeper level follow up questions.

2B. Another option is to ask it in a new way: “Ok, so one obvious point here is that we need to be willing to follow the prophet. But we all know that blind obedience isn’t the answer. So how is it that we can be immediately willing like Nephi without voiding our agency to someone else?”

3. Give people time to think about and answer the question. Teachers feel very uncomfortable when someone doesn’t answer right away – 3 seconds feels like 30 seconds. But this is the time that the question works on people. Don’t be afraid of silence! This is especially true when you’ve just asked a tough question (which is something else you should do!).

Sometimes people really do need a chance to think about the question for a minute before answering. Hence, one good method is to ask the question beforehand. For example:

3A. Priming them with the question before reading a scripture is an excellent way to get people both to pay attention to what comes next and also think seriously about the question. “As we read this passage I want you to think about how it is that our homes relate to the temple.”

3B. Similarly, you can ask important questions that really get to the heart of your lesson upfront. “I want to hear about experiences that you’ve had where paying tithing brought about blessings or spiritual growth. That’s really what this lesson is all about. So think about that while we go through the lesson, and at the end I would like for some of you to share your experiences.”

3C. You answer first. “Most of us believe in reading the scriptures, but that doesn’t mean we get it done. What is it that makes reading the scriptures difficult to do on a daily basis? I’ll go first, but then I want to hear your experiences.”

4. Ask questions without having a specific answer in mind. It’s human nature to fish for answers, and sometimes this is appropriate. But tough questions that don’t have an immediate answer can also be powerful. Sometimes these will be questions that have occurred to you that you really don’t have an answer for. For example I recently asked our Gospel Doctrine class why God gave Lehi a Liahona in I Ne 16:10, when in the proceeding verse he just spoke directly to Lehi sans magical object. The Liahona seems totally superfluous. Why did God give it to them? This was a question that jumped out at me during my own study. I still don’t have a satisfactory answer, but we had a terrific discussion that focused not only on Lehi’s family but on our own lives, personal revelation and the need for various kinds of concrete “Liahonas.”

5. Ask questions that will help the class to see things in a new light. Some of our most powerful learning moments are when we see things differently than we have before.

6. Ask really specific questions that acknowledge the variety of experiences and backgrounds in the room: “How can we be a good father when – like some of us in this room – we have to be away from our families for months or even years at a time?” or “I want to hear from one of our single sisters about what motherhood means;” or “I know there are people in this room who read this verse about Nephite government, and draw political conclusions totally opposite to those that I do. Does this mean that one of us is right and the other wrong? What does this say about the scriptures and our political life?” or “Testimony is not an all-or-nothing sort of thing. Rather, as Alma tells us here, it is something that grows and develops. How can we spiritually contribute to others even when we have doubts?”

******

fn1: For those interested, I found Dennis Rasmussen’s book on the way that God’s questions to humans are transformative a worthwhile read.

It was snowing when I drove to the hospital, and it wouldn’t be daylight for another hour at least. The only person in the lobby was the woman at the information desk. She directed me to the laboratory down the hall, where I handed over my paperwork and sat down in the empty waiting room. On the wall-mounted TV, a news reporter announced that an escaped convict had been captured. He’d broken out of federal prison to visit his terminally ill mother.

The tech called my name and motioned me to the blood-draw chair. She asked what procedure would be having that morning. I looked over my shoulder; the waiting room was still empty. “Tubal ligation,” I said.

The end of an era. My entire post-pubescent life thus far had revolved around my reproductive ability, and could be separated into stages based on my maternal status. When I was single, I was desperately wanted and needed to not be pregnant. After my wedding, I desperately (and shockingly) wanted and needed to be pregnant—and I was for the better part of a decade thanks to six effortless conceptions. And when a miscarriage at age 33 triggered a year of mysterious infertility, I desperately wanted and needed to be pregnant again. Never did I know panic until I realized I might not bear the seventh child I sensed was mine. Never did I guess that within seconds of the birth of that seventh child, I would come full circle in my vow to evade future pregnancy at any cost.

I’d asked one thing of God throughout the long years of creating and producing and nourishing many babies: Please let me know when I’m done. I took the Mormon charge to multiply very seriously. The ferocious hunger to bear fruit, which suddenly surfaced just months after my wedding, was more potent and real than anything I’d felt. I was ravenous, and each baby that came was desired completely. But as I produced a passel of infants one by one, I began to wonder if the hunger would ever be sated. And as the demands of caring for these children exponentially increased, I began to worry that it wouldn’t. I couldn’t decide which was more terrifying: having more children than I could care for, or not having more children despite continuing hunger. Please, I prayed. Let me know.

And I did. I’d heard other women describe the phenomenon and, truth be told, I’d doubted its veracity. Truth be told, I’d figured it was just an excuse employed when a woman didn’t want any more children: “I feel my family is complete.” But when it happened to me, I understood. Before we knew the baby had Down syndrome, before we knew if he’d survive his 10-week premature birth, before we knew if he could even draw a breath, I knew it was over. The message to stop having babies was as overwhelmingly real and potent as the message to start.

But far more complicated.

I didn’t know what to do with this intuitive knowledge that my body could not and would not create any additional bodies. What action did that indicate on my part: a strict regimen of birth control? A strict regimen of faith that God would render me barren? I’d heard the folk doctrine more times than I could count: fertility was a function of God’s will. To the reckoning of some, it followed that birth control signaled a damning lack of faith. But the prospect of pregnancy had become so horrifying—so strangely horrifying, given how I’d long treasured that very capacity—that for the first time in my life, I didn’t care about anyone’s reckoning but God’s and my husband’s and my own.

It seemed simple enough: figure out what you want, seek confirmation from God, and if it comes, proceed. But I wanted something ludicrous. I didn’t just want to go on the pill or get an IUD or begin some other mostly-reliable method of birth control—I wanted to utterly obliterate my ability to reproduce. I wanted a permanent sterilization procedure: partial hysterectomy or tubal ligation. Maybe both, just to be safe.

At the same time, I was wary of my willingness—my eagerness—to gain that safety by surgically altering my reproductive organs, even if God approved. Especially if God approved. His permission to do something so drastic and controversial in Mormon practice felt suspect. So I waited, and prayed, and counseled with my husband. And I resolved to avoid any irreversible moves until I received an unimpeachable sign from God that I had his blessing.

It came months later on an ordinary evening, during the ordeal of getting a large quantity of small children ready for bed. Thomas, the youngest, was about nine months old.  I was carrying him from my bedroom to the changing table in his bedroom, feeling exhausted by the demands of the day and defeated by the prospect of days upon days upon days of similar demands yet to come. I was utterly spent. In terms of my singularly female abilities, I’d given everything I had to give. Even if God commanded me to give more, I could not.

As I laid Thomas on the changing table, I laid out this truth for God to see, silent and wordless and humble.  I have nothing left, I told him, nothing remaining inside to sacrifice or consecrate on the altar of maternity. And I needed to know if my offering was accepted. I needed to know the way the priests of Aaron knew that the slaughtered animal on the altar stones made a fitting sacrifice, the way the first apostles knew that their faith was not in vain: I needed to see my offering ignited by divine fire. I needed a body—my body—to burn.

And it did. With Thomas squirming half-naked on the table before me, I received an ineffable and indisputable witness: the fiery furnace of the presence of God. The heat of every nucleus of every cell bursting into flame.

Ask, and ye shall receive. I had the confirmation I wanted—not that God was directing me to have sterilization surgery, but that if I chose to do so he wouldn’t object. Even so, I waited several years to make that choice. At one point I let my doctor talk me out of a tubal ligation and into a vasectomy for my husband (less pain, less risk, less cost); I drove Reed home from the urologist with an ice pack between his legs, and tried to dismiss the nightmares that persisted even after he was certified sterile—nightmares of my womb swelling and splitting, of children I couldn’t love emerging from my body, red-faced and squalling. I stalled for years, afraid to make a mistake.

Then came the month that my period was late. Very late. I was irrationally and implacably terrified that Reed was one of the scant handful of men who reverted to fertility post-vasectomy. He was worried too, but far more calm.  It’s obviously not what we planned, he said, but a baby is a good thing, right?

No. Not for me, not anymore. I took a pregnancy test: negative. I took another. I didn’t stop agonizing until the overdue bleeding finally began.

Not long afterward, I consulted another doctor. A woman, this time. She gave me my options, including a non-surgical in-office procedure. As she described it in detail, I saw myself on the exam table, feet in stirrups, groggy from valium as she forced my cervix open and pushed small metallic coils into my fallopian tubes. The scene made me shake. For its entire adult life, my body had turned itself inside out in the service of humankind—it would no longer tolerate such invasion, not even in a semi-conscious state.

Laparoscopy, then, the doctor said. A small incision through the abdomen. General anaesthesia.

Relief steadied my hand on the steering wheel when I drove home that afternoon, and again on my surgery date a few weeks later, when I drove to the hospital through the pre-dawn snow. It was a week after the death of my Yia Yia Christine, and a week before her name day on Christmas—a celebration of the birth of the Christ child as well as the births of all Greeks named for him. When I’d scheduled the procedure, I didn’t know that a phone call would soon summon me to the funeral of my last living grandparent. There, I heard the liturgy of St. John Chrysostom as I sat at the feet of the Theokotos, the Virgin Mother who carried Christmas in her womb.

Through you, pure and blessed Theotokos, may we find paradise.

After the results of my labwork were recorded on my chart, I donned a surgical gown, laid on a gurney, and closed my eyes as the nurse started an IV line. Once the drip started, she handed me a metal clipboard of release forms to sign. I paused, pen in hand. My first pregnancy had begun nearly two decades before, soon after I turned 21; my adult self was born in a birthing room nine months later.  So, too, was my Mormon identity. Motherhood was the essence of Godhood. In the aftermath of my first miscarriage, I stood in the baby care aisle at Target and prayed.  I want to be a mother again, I begged over and over and over. I want to be a mother forever. As I prayed I clutched a fleece baby blanket from one of the displays, divinely soft and cotton-candy pink, which I later bought as a token of hope.

The top release form was the same color as that blanket. Permanent sterilization, the heading warned. I signed my full name in consent. Then I waited for the nurse to leave so I could weep in private. I’d wanted to cry ever since that TV news clip about the escaped convict who needed to see his mother before she died. After his last goodbye, he surrendered to the authorities.

I was thoroughly damp when the nurse returned twenty minutes later to lift the brakes on the gurney wheels and guide me feet-first toward the operating room. She parked me in an alcove outside the OR and summoned the anesthesiologist. He asked me some questions and I nodded my head in response, unable to speak. At first he made a futile attempt to pretend I wasn’t crying. Finally he paused and asked if I was okay, and I nodded some more. I was definitely okay. And definitely not okay. But there was nothing to say about it—not to him, at least. I tried the prayer I’d offered from the beginning: Tell me if I’m done. Tell me it’s enough. I didn’t need the full fiery furnace in response, just a single lick of flame. One last confirmation. Please.

Nothing.

The nurse returned. “Ready?” she asked. I nodded, still weeping. She wheeled me into the operating room, parallel to the cold steely surface of its table. After locking the brakes, she turned to look me straight in the eye. You don’t have to do this, she said.

But I did. I knew what was at stake, and it was more than the emotional or mental or physical health I’d likely lose if I got pregnant again. It was something even weightier: my faith. Not my faith in God, which would remain in any case. Rather, faith in a stewardship fulfilled. Faith in the ability to choose wisely and well. Faith in myself.

I woke in the recovery room to the beeping of a heart monitor. My pierced navel was stitched shut and seeping blood—a maternal stigmas. No angels sang with cloven tongues; no devils laughed. The only still, small voice was my own. In the silence it spoke itself into being. It spoke of hearts redeemed, of bodies consumed and then glorified. It spoke of paradise, where the souls of mothers multiply and replenish themselves forever in the white flames of eternal burnings.

Let the incense burn in every room
See the fullness of time in the empty tomb
Feel the future kicking in your womb.
~John Darnielle

I. Tools part I

We went over a handout about language and dictionaries, talked about why Webster’s modern dictionary isn’t useful, how to use Strong’s Concordance, where to get it for free, and what’s wrong with it, then some resources that you can use once you understand Strong’s and have the number for a word.

Here’s the handout (ask if something isn’t clear), which came with some relevant sample pages from Strong’s, where we looked at “abide” as exemplar (those pages not uploaded) and the relevant chapters from Jim Faulconer’s excellent short Scripture Study: Tools and Suggestions “English Historical Dictionaries” for D&C/Book of Mormon/Pearl of Great Price; Here’s his chapter for dealing with Greek and Hebrew, “Doing Bible Research Without Knowing Greek or Hebrew.” Now, I go beyond Faulconer, and suggest using great caution with Strong’s. It’s very outdated, and doesn’t give useful definitions as much as short translational equivalents. So, I provided a sheet with other resources keyed to Strong’s that are better. Here are samples. Vines; Mounce; TWOT; TLOT; NIDOTTE (Thanks to a fellow Logos user for providing me with samples from the resources I don’t own.)

Several students, as it turned out, were already familiar with and used Strong’s.

We then turned to Genesis 1 and Enuma Eliš.

II. Enuma Eliš and Genesis

Enuma Eliš is often called the Babylonian Creation Account or Epic, but that misleads into thinking that its purpose was simply to convey information about creation. (This assumption is likely carried over from assuming the same thing about Genesis, and is equally false.) Enuma Eliš, rather, explains how Marduk became the chief deity of the Babylonian pantheon.

When first published, the similarities between Enuma Eliš and Genesis 1 were so obvious that (combined with other reasons), some claimed that Israelites simply borrowed Genesis from Enuma Eliš. Since then, more nuanced views have prevailed. While there is still no real consensus on the relationship, three things are commonly agreed upon; The roots of Enuma Eliš long predate the Israelite version, one cannot study Genesis seriously without taking Enuma Eliš into account, and at the very least, Genesis and Enuma Eliš  “breathe the same air.”Here is  Enuma Eliš from the Context of Scripture (You can see the cuneiform of one version here in pdf, with explanation of the first few lines.  (I used to have a nice Enuma Eliš mug from Eisenbrauns…)

We did a very selective summary of Enuma Eliš, and pointed out that the pre-creation combat with the watery chaos/deity/sea monsters therein is also found in the Bible. (Handout of passages taken from this post.) We then looked at Genesis 1 and saw that although multiple elements of Enuma Eliš are found there in the same order, there is very clearly NO pre-creation battle, and those things which are warring deities in Enuma Eliš are simply creations of Israel’s God in Genesis 1. Specifically (and selectively), we begin with temporal clauses (“When on high…” and “When God began creating the heavens and the earth), pre-existent cosmic waters (Tiamat/salt water, tehom/”the deep”), darkness, and wind/spirit. The waters are then separated, a solid roof (Tiamat’s hide, the raqiya/firmament) put on to keep out and restrain those waters from entering into this space, and this is the general conception of the universe or cosmic geography among both Israelites and their neighbors.

(Edit: Even Deseret Book on Genesis obliquely mentioned Enuma Eliš, in Jehovah and the World of the Old Testament.

“the power and significance of these stories [of creation in Genesis] can be best appreciated when they are compared with the ancient creation stories that were known in cultures surrounding ancient Israel. In the last 150 years, archaeologists working in the Near East have uncovered hundreds of thousands of records from the ancient world.  Scholars have identified in these records many examples of creation stories from Mesopotamia, Egypt, and Canaan that give us insight and understanding of the ancient worldviews about creation.”

What is the doctrine here? From an Israelite perspective, especially one living in or under Babylonian rule and influence, the doctrine was that Israel’s God was The God, that these other things were not gods at all. This was Doctrine with a Capital D, centrally important to their concerns. Especially when Israel had been subued by Babylon and the temple destroyed, it was a real theological challenge. Had Marduk defeated Yahweh? Was Yahweh indeed God? What had happened? We tend not to understand the attraction of polytheism, or the illogic of monotheistic religion then, since it is mostly what westerners encounter today, sohere is a brief defense of polytheism. Today, polytheism doesn’t make a lot of sense to us because we live in a different culture. So here’s a useful analogy. You all use certain services and functions in your daily life. You have water. You have your recycling pickup. You have your electricity, you have your plumber, you have your car mechanic, your cable TV, your Internet access, your handyman. Now, imagine that you move into a new house. And the same guy comes and hooks up all of these services. Imagine that every service in your new house came from the same company. And not only the same company, but the same guy. And that this guy was the local mechanic, grocer, policeman, garbage service, and doctor. You would have trouble believing that one person could do all these things. And that is basically the situation of ancient near Eastern people. We think of the cosmos as a machine that God runs or set up. Ancient near Eastern people, by contrast, associated a different god with each service, function or aspect. The deity was the function, and vice versa. Ra/Re is both the Sun and Sun God. There were weather gods, fertility gods, local regional gods, etc. How could one deity be in charge of everything? And what if he really wasn’t? What if your child died or your crops failed because you’d failed to appease some other God? (Think of Paul and the altar to the Unknown God here.)

Some of this is reflected in the Bible. It might surprise you to find out that a volume called Dictionary of Deities and Demons in the Bible (a prominent academic reference volume) runs to nearly 1000 pages. It was inconceivable to think of one God performing every function, but that is what the Israelites proclaimed, even though many of them couldn’t quite maintain that exclusivist faith at times.

We talked of this more in depth, and in several other ways. I’ll try to get my notes back up to snuff next week.

How much of me is not-me? How much of my own flesh is dark? How much of my own mind is a black box?

How much of me is broken and passed around like bread for others to live on? How much of me is gathered from the multitude like leftover loaves they were too full to eat?

It’s this kind of thinking that gets Mormons pinched as “not really Christian.” The problem for Mormons is that we think this margin of error may itself be made in the image of God.

As Blake Ostler points out in the first chapter of the first Exploring Mormon Thought:

Perhaps the greatest distinction between Mormonism and the Christian tradition is that for Mormons the persons of the Godhead are genuinely “other” even to each other. That is, they are “distinct” and “separate” in the sense that they have unique personalities. They are persons having full cognitive and conative faculties. They are separate “wills” and “centers of cognitive awareness” who do not reduce to just one will or one personality; rather, they are genuinely separate with respect to their persons. They have distinct spatio-temporal identity – they are not identical in substance to the extent that the substance referred to is something they are made out of. The bodies of the Father and the Son and the Holy Ghost are distinct from one another. (7-8)

There are thirty fingers and thirty toes. The divine plurality of Father, Son, and Holy Ghost cannot be reduced. No matter how penetrating their union, there is always a remainder that cannot be assimilated, a remnant that cannot be incorporated, a chased-tail that cannot be caught. Father, Son, and Holy Ghost are translucent but not transparent. “The persons of the Godhead are genuinely ‘other’ even to each other.”

Ostler, however, does also claim that, for the members of the Godhead, their divine interpenetration is still

so profound and the unity so complete that the persons who share this unity have identical experiences, know exactly the same things, agree perfectly with the decisions by all others sharing this unity and always act in complete unison. This unity is so perfect that it is improper to think of one person in this unity acting without the others. In this sense, there is a single agency exercised by these beings. (10-11)

These two claims seem like a poor fit. How, given their (±) personhood, can the Godhead’s unity be “complete” or their experiences “identical”?

I don’t know what Ostler has in mind, but I will speculate that part of what they share involves the margins themselves. Their inassimilable remainders do themselves circulate.

Part of the Father is indigestible by the Son, part of the Son is indigestible by the Holy Ghost, part of the Holy Ghost is indigestible by the Father. Fine. But we must also remember that Father, Son, and Holy Ghost are only Father, Son, and Holy Ghost in their divine relationship with each other.

Part of them remains withdrawn from absorption in their divine dance but part of them is constituted by that same perechoresis. Part of each is given to them by what is other than them. This is a gift they can absorb in part, but not in whole.

The Father gives all of himself to the Son, even the parts that the Son cannot receive. And the Son gives all of himself to the Father, even the parts that the Father cannot receive.

The Son is constituted as a son by what the Father gives him – perhaps especially by the given parts he cannot digest. The Son bears within him the whole of the Father and the character of his sonship hinges on how he will bear within himself those parts of the Father that will always remain “other” to him. The Father, likewise, bears within himself the whole of the Son and the character of his fatherhood hinges on how he will bear within himself those parts of the Son that will always remain “other” to him.

Father and Son, bound to one another in an eternal embrace by their willingness to share what they cannot give and by their willingness to bear what they cannot receive.

(Forgive me. I am writing, of course, about my own father and my own son.)

What makes their relation divine is not the absence of this margin but their faithful relation to it. They do not save each other by mastering it, but by pledging themselves to caring for it. They don’t erase the margin of error, they live in it.

The Father: always ± the Son.