The destructions before the appearance of Jesus and then the reshaping of Nephite culture for 100 years of peace seems to be an example of that. On a more thematic level every time things shift, that would be a messianic act, in the more metaphoric sense. So Mormon’s imposition of a kind of cycle of success, pride, fall, repetence is itself based upon this “messianic” underlying move. The messianic in this more metaphoric sense is what makes this cycle possible. When looking at how Nephi uses Isaiah, he takes the messianic chapters and applies them not just to the end times but also to the individual life and the more short term historic cycles of the Nephites. Thus a lot of what Mormon is doing when he writes his history is taking these hermeneutic principles that Adam might call messianic and applies them to how he reads Nephite history.

From a more modern concept of history it seems fair to ask how distortive these acts of Mormon are to the events. But that seems a secondary issue.

As for Mormon’s types, there are some stereotypes there but I think probably the stereotypes are more on the various records Mormon is editing. It seems that Mormon’s patterns often undermine the stated stereotypes quite often. i.e. he often portrays the Nephites as lazy and the Lamanites as industrious.

It strikes me that a major theme of the Book of Mormon (and this is all consistent with Adam’s original post) is the eruption of the Messiah into history. In the first Chapter of the book, the normal flow of Lehi’s life and that of his family is disrupted by a sudden vision of the Messiah. That vision of a distant future is anachronistic, not part of the flow of normal time. The future becomes the present for Lehi and changes everything for his family. Lehi’s and Nephi’s dreams are similar eruptions of the messianic, as are Nephi and Jacob’s anachronistic knowledge of their people’s future. A central theme of Jacob/Zenos’ parable of the Olive is pruning, digging, and dunging the Father and the Son do. The Messiah again erupts in Benjamin’s sermon, leaving people prostrate on the ground, born as new creatures, son’s and daughters of a person who won’t himself be born for more than another century. Zeniff, a basically good man, unwisely rejects counsel of the first Mosiah and tries to chart his own path to peace. Having rejected prophetic leadership, he ends up being precisely the person he most reprehended when young—a remorseless slaughterer of Lamanites. Noah makes things worse, but then the messianic breaks into the flow of ordinary time in the Land of Nephi just as it was contemporaneously doing in the Land of Zarahemla. Abinadi is the Benjamin of the south. With his messianic message he completely redirects the settled course of many lives, first of Alma the elder and his followers, then of all the people led by Limhi, who go from being notably wicked in the Land of Nephi to being notably righteous for the rest of their known history in the Land of Gideon. Young Alma and his royal friends had charted a path for themselves—that was suddenly disrupted. That disruption then resonates in the lives of King Lamoni and his father, who were fully focused on complicated political maneuvering when, suddenly, the Messiah disrupted their lives through the ministrations of former reprobate sinners, Ammon and Aaron. More strikingly than Benjamin’s people but much like young Alma, Lamoni is suddenly prone, suddenly a new man, and his father, formerly renowned for his unconstrained violence, dies a pacifist as do many of his once ferocious people. Helaman’s sons Lehi and Nephi, bear a messianic message that disrupts Lamanite culture and history in the south while Samuel the Lamanite reciprocally disrupts with the same message the lives of the Nephites in the North. And then, in the biggest messianic eruption of all, the Savior himself descends into the world of all these –ites and remakes the lives of all who then know him. So yes, the flow of ordinary, secular, causal time is recounted in the Book of Mormon, but it is consistently and consequentially disrupted by anachronistic eruptions of a Messiah who makes new things old and old things new and who, in general, plays havoc with the unfolding of ordinary time.

To quote the original post, “[T]he messianic is, by definition, that which is working its way into the historical—interrupting it, questioning it, overwriting it, reshaping it.”

To me, a key component of The Book of Mormon is its claim to be the work of an historian, and because of this, the type of history it describes has real influence on its message, including its description of the Messiah.

Like I mentioned in my first post, the book’s arguments often have a historical basis. On many occasions the author relates what he claims is an historical story, then uses phraseology like “thus we see” to describe what he claims as spiritual truth.

But as I read the book, I do not see an interrupting, questioning, or overwriting component to the events described at all. To the contrary, the author presents a predictable, cyclical narrative out of events that otherwise would naturally seem transformative and extraordinary. He takes this beyond events, often applying it to groups of people. People often point out prejudices in the text against people with darker skin tones, but in fact Mormon seems to have previously-construed ideas (let’s be honest—biases) about all the groups he describes: Nephites are stiff-necked, prideful, unfaithful, and obsessed with status. Lamanites are lazy, but loyal to family. Gentiles are unappreciative and not spiritually self-sufficient. And these things are not incidental: the author’s God and Messiah depend on this predictable nature as they shape humanity’s destiny: God knows the Nephites are proud, so he uses the Lamanites to humble them. God knows the Lamanites are loyal to family, so he forgives them for succumbing to the sins of their fathers and has confidence they will one day change. God knows the Gentiles can’t figure anything out themselves, so he gives them the Jewish Bible and Native American The Book of Mormon to point them straight. One way or another, God knows all of us will sin, but also knows how to set all of us straight, and that is the purpose of his Messiah.

By transforming the book’s message into a history-breaking one, like Adam Miller suggests, I think you lose some of the original intention, at least as I interpret it, and so change the testament of the Messiah. Taking a more traditional ahistorical view of the text, like P talks about, you do the same thing. My point is that I think these can all lead to distinctly practicable interpretations of our religion, and I think there is a place for all of them, even though they are in some ways mutually-exclusive. An historical text cannot be ahistorical, and Adam’s interrupting messianicity differs from the cyclical, regular narrative I hold to. Some of the differences this results in will be inconsequential, like Matthew’s red robe versus Mark’s purple one, returning to my Gospels analogy. Others, though, might have a fundamental impact, like Luke’s “he that is not against us is for us” versus Matthew’s “he that is not with me is against me”.

But, you aren’t mistaken in assuming parts of this discussion are probably over my head. I have no idea, for instance, who Badiou and Agamben are, and I’m sure there are a lot of underlying currents to this conversation that I am completely misunderstanding. Thank you for your help in bringing me ever-so-slightly up to speed.

This is probably a good time to bow out of the discussion, before any further revealing my extensive lack of knowledge. Good night!

I honestly can’t recall most people in the apologetic movement (the old FARMS, FAIR, the contemporary Maxwell Institute to a degree) have said much about Messianism. I bet they all have opinions but it doesn’t come up that often.

The church changes as we force it to change. I believe many Latter-day Saint literal truth claims, but I think people should be free to have an open and honest discussion about them. Recently, I have come to believe (I would say recognize, but I know many will disagree) that the First Presidency and Quorum of the Twelve aren’t chosen because of any particular spiritual strength they possess. Instead, they seem closer to a representative sampling of our active male membership, albeit one skewed toward areas where the church is most heavily concentrated. So if they’re sexist, it’s because we’re sexist. If they’re conservative, it’s because our membership tends toward conservatism. If those among them who are liberal largely remain silent, it’s because the lay liberal membership is also silent.

The reason that exceptions like John and Kate are easily excommunicated is because they are exceptions; in a ward where over 33% of the members are vocally feminist, pro-gay, and liberal, I can all but guarantee none of them would ever worry about discipline because of their beliefs. If you expand that to 33% of the total active membership, in 20 years we will not only have apostles that hold the same opinion—some of them might even be female.

A while ago, I had the opportunity to live in a branch where, when I moved in, half the members of a prominent family in the area had been disfellowshipped over a disagreement they had with an earlier bishop. When I left, one of them had become high priest group leader, and I heard he later served as bishop. Why? My idyllic answer would be the power of God, and I do believe that, but the practical answer is that the branch (since a ward) needed that family, and so the leadership adapted to accommodate them. Our church is nothing if not a practical one.

The problem with liberalism is that it is largely limited to the internet, journals, and occasional protests or conferences, none of which affect the day-to-day life of a bishop or stake president. Liberals largely feel intimidated into silence in person on Sunday, which is the setting leaders are most aware of and focused on. So, if you really want to change things, gather.

Do what Paul did—when he joined the church, it was entrenched in obedience to an archaic, well-beloved law that was prominent in the location where the church was most concentrated. Instead of trying to change those people’s minds, he went and found a bunch of people who believed in the same kind of Christianity he did: a minority, but a powerful, united one that formed strong localized majorities. Then, with those people in tow, he went and made his case in Jerusalem, and the leaders there were persuaded to change church policy.

And then when they later reverted, he called them out to their face. By then, it was too late to excommunicate him—the church needed him.

The best way to create change is to baptize more people who think like you. If that seems impractical, then move with others to form a ward or branch of active liberalism. If that still seems impractical, wait 20 years—the change is already coming.

Relating back to the original post, if you disagree with the application of the messiah that certain apologists adopt, there are lots of other messianic models available, and there’s no reason some people cannot accept one and others another. Look at the four Gospels: each one present a different kind of messiah out of the same general set of events. We claim to believe in the same organization that existed then, so there’s no reason we cannot do the same. Our messiah doesn’t have to only be a Victorian one (as beautiful as some aspects of that model are). At least I don’t think so. ???

I would like to know why the Bush/Cheney administration was so heavily populated by BYU alumni willing to do literally anything for the right-wing cause and why one of the creators of the torture protocol was only recently elevated to the position of Bishop (he has since resigned). I would like to know why there are no Democrats among the presiding 15, and why Utah is the most reliably Republican state in the Union with all the prehistoric ignorance, stupidity and arrogance that accompanies same.

This all adds up, it is wrong and disturbing. Those Progressives who keep their mouths shut do not sufficiently love their Church.

(You are very welcome Pacumeni, your prose is wonderful, I re-read your #78 last night. I wish you were a member of my ward. Same for Clark Goble and brother-in-arms Steve Smith who understands far more than I)

In any case I think we have to take arguments on their own terms.

I don’t think I’m “full of false equivalences.” In some ways OT and BoM historicity are the same thing. In other ways they are not. I thought once we got specific in the ways they are not I fully agreed. But maybe I’m just not clear on what you mean. (But this is probably not the place for that) Again, I think we need to be clear about what claims we are making and our arguments for them. My experience is that in many discussions it’s easy to talk past one an other when we’re not clear on our claims. (I think that 90% of any discussion is getting our terms clear to one another for instance)

Certainly critics and apologists have different assumptions (although clearly both believe they have evidence for those assumptions) I’ve tried to be upfront on that. I think that by and large those starting points leads to different conclusions. I think I’ve repeated that many times in this thread.

In any case as I’ve said I don’t think postmodernism intersects most apologetic issues. There are hermeneutic debates of course about how to read the text but that’s a somewhat separate issue I think. By and large for most apologetic issues it’s more a scientific question although in some cases there’s also an issue of how to interpret vague physical evidence.

By and large if someone’s simply critiquing postmodernism though I think they’re creating a straw man. For one, I don’t consider myself a postmodernist and I bet many called that don’t either. It’s a form of ad homen. I’m rather critical of most that goes under the postmodern rubric. I certainly have far less patience for the style than I used to. That said some figures read in that tradition I think are quite valuable for various reasons. However I also think they are frequently misread by people both within the tradition and critical of the tradition. But again, I think that somewhat beside the point for apologetics.

P and I are referring to a visible trend, which is exemplified by the OP. Adam Miller would certainly come under the category of the new apologists, as would Nathaniel Givens. Another name would be Kerry Muhlestein, whose most recent presentation on assumptions is part of this new apologist trend. Instead of engaging the issue of historicity head-on by presenting solid evidence, they talk obsessively about epistemology. While epistemology is important, it needs to be balanced with ontology. Based on your comments on this thread and others, your thinking seems to fit the new apologist trend too, Clark. The new apologetics relies on clever philosophical tricks to get by.

“I think most apologists belief on the basis of evidence you don’t agree with that the Book of Mormon is historical. You think them wrong, but that’s not the same as cherry picking and working backwards. Rather it’s just taking as a fact and trying to understand the rest of the evidence. You do exactly the same thing.”

You’re full of false equivalences. In a discussion that we had on another thread, you thought the historicity questions in relation to the BOM and the OT were the same thing, they aren’t. P’s thinking (as far as I can tell from this discussion and discussions on other threads, provided he is the same person) is completely different from the way the apologists are thinking. The apologists are starting from huge assumptions that Joseph Smith literally translated an ancient book by looking at a stone in a hat. P isn’t starting with such an assumption.

Wait, what is my worldview, Pacumeni? I think that you’re making huge assumptions about how I think and are trying to turn me into your positivist straw man. I simply made some remarks about the evolution of Mormon apologetics, and you seem to have skirted around those. Furthermore, your remarks are doing nothing but confirming my original point about postmodernism and the new Mormon apologetics. Instead of engaging the issues at hand in order to preserve tradition, the new apologists are all about smoke and mirrors.

That doesn’t address my point though. There are places where particular philosophers have attempted to ground induction in deduction where one can make more Godel like arguments. However that doesn’t appear too common. For instance there are places where one can understand Derrida in terms of Godel. Derrida actually borrows terms from Godel in early works such as in Dissemination but he’s also careful to note he’s doing so by analogy. People have tied Derrida and Godel but often miss that Derrida’s key texts are addressing Husserl’s early axiomatic projects. And of course Godel most definitely does apply there. It’s fair to note that the systems Derrida attacks pretty much were dead by 1930 so Derrida’s later attacks are somewhat pointless from a certain view. Although I do think they allowed him to use immanent critiques of these systems to think something deeper – although I think one could easily have arrived at the same issues via C. S. Perice’s semiotics.

So where we apply Godel really depends upon the argument in question. Sometimes it applies and sometimes it doesn’t.

I’m a Peircean pragmatist so I think there are three irreducible logics of deduction, induction and abduction. So the concerns by some philosophers or thinkers to ground induction on deduction seem rather pointless to me.

As for Chomsky, if I remember right his universal grammar attempts to be a formal system. But I have admit I’ve not gone through the details of his universal grammar since college so my memory on it is quite rusty. In any cast I think most people are skeptical of Chomsky on this point. In any case even if there is some ur-language I’m skeptical it’d be formal while most natural languages are most definitely not formal. But even if Chomsky is right, so what? It just would mean there are things we couldn’t think that someone with a different formal system might be able to. It says nothing about what we could think. (I actually vaguely remember writing a short one page essay on just this point for a final in my Philosophy of Language class)

An axiom is often defined as a premise or starting point for reasoning. Induction isn’t presuppositionless. At a minimum, there must be some kind of foundational mental operation that computes similarity between instances. Those mental operations cannot themselves be induced. They are a premise for induction. I think the famous argument between Chomsky and Skinner about the nature of language is relevant here. Skinner broadly held that one could arrive at language and grammar inductively. Chomsky held that the essentials of grammar, the axioms, so to speak of language, had to be inborn. Most people think Chomsky carried that debate. Kant’s response to Hume’s problem of induction would also seem to be relevant. What we perceive, Kant concluded, is not just a function of what is out there. It must be in substantial measure a function of preexisting categories of mind. The reality we perceive must reflect the categories of our mind. So unless knowledge is presuppositionless–which I think it cannot be–it must be grounded in some basic intuition or set of inborn reasoning capabilities that are essentially the axioms of or the ground of all thought. So even induction, if we press on it, will prove to rest on something axiomatic. But perhaps you are using the word axiom in some narrower, more technical sense that makes it more relevant to the project Godel undertook.