Author: gwesley

Because I can’t wait for August (I’m already on episode 11 of The Mysterious Cities of Gold, folks!) …

The other month in a Huffington blog post mentioning Larry Echo Hawk, Tim Giago asks some tough questions:

Is the Mormon Church stuck with an embarrassing book it cannot historically support? Will the Book of Mormon one day be rationalized as simply an allegory conceived and used by Joseph Smith, the founder, to inspire his followers? In the final analysis it all comes down to whether faith will triumph over fiction.

And I will continue to ask myself why any sensible Native American would belong to a Church that will not fully accept them until they become white.

Tough questions, as I say, and I leave it to others to try to answer them. What I would like to do in this post is read some fiction to get at the Book of Mormon from another angle.

Continue reading “Three Cheers for Old Joe and his Indian Bible”

In preparation for the release of the new season of The Mysterious Cities of Gold, rumored to be out in September (in French only?), here’s what I propose for August:

• Watch all 39 episodes of the original Mysterious Cities of Gold … at least as many as possible.
• Read pertainent mini-volumes in the Oxford Very Short Introduction series, such as The Aztecs (2012; there is not one on Incas yet), The Conquistadors (2012), and The North American Indians (2010).
• Reread the Book of Mormon in the context of all that.

The setting of the Book of Mormon is entirely pre-colonial, of course (unless you entertain the secularism of that dangerous T&S). Still the book itself refers to colonization. And it was in the aftermath of colonization that the plates were discovered, along with other Book of Mormon artifacts; the English translation published too. Plus the text continues to impinge on issues in the (post) post colonial Americas and wider world (web).

Feel free to join in.

Maybe a blog post or two will come out of this.

One of my fellow saints recently asked me what I think of the late Hugh Nibley’s work. I began by saying that although I may have become disenchanted with his general approach, I continue to be impressed by how much he knew. Intimidated even. Next I mentioned some things I had picked up reading around in his biography, items that humanized him for me and made him someone I could still relate to, items such as his reluctance to take on the Book of Abraham academically and his breakdown/stroke and hospitalization in 1974 while working on The Message of the Joseph Smith Papyri. Like all influential figures, Nibley ought to be reread, not merely dismissed out of hand as outdated and outmoded.

My interlocutor then asked what I meant when I said that I had become disenchanted. Hesitating some, I essentialized the Nibley approach: the amassing of parallels in ancient texts as proof of Mormonism based on the assumption that they were unknown to Joseph Smith, so the prophet must have arrived in the same place through revelation, of course. I explained that this approach to defending the church was actually–and not without irony–liable to do more harm than good, in my opinion. After the assumption is admitted and the parallels amassed, all that some punk needs to do is reverse the polarity, and voila, it looks like Mormonism can be accounted for through the transmission of antiquity to the 1800s. This is especially the case because Nibley tended to downplay the differences between the ancient parallels and Mormonism, while exploiting (some would say embellishing) the similarities. And so the LDS academic may be faced with the onerous task of undoing what has been done, de-emphasizing the similarities and stressing the differences, in order to show that Mormonism is not reducible to the transmission of antiquity to the 1800s, and so that Joseph Smith can be understood and appreciated as creative genius, exegete, theologian, innovator.

Consider, if you will, for example, what would have happened if instead of saying these words in his 1954 KSL radio broadcast entitled “Time Vindicates the Prophets” (The World and the Prophets [third edition; 1987, p.170-1])

With the exception of the verse just cited above [1 Cor 15:29], a few perplexing commentaries on it, and the unnoticed passage from the Pastor of Hermas, all our evidence for the practice of baptism for the dead in ancient times comes from fragments recently discovered. The possession of this strange and wonderful thing by the restored Church of Jesus Christ for over a hundred years would therefore seem to be an almost foolproof certificate of authenticity. The prophets of modern times remember the dead exactly as did those prophets of old, and in the growing evidence for the nature of that work among the first Christians, time has vindicated the prophets.

… Nibley had cited the following remark from Albert Schweitzer’s earlier monograph on The Mysticism of Paul the Apostle (English translation; 1998, p.290):

Since Hermas, no theologian has had the courage to tackle the problem and solve it in this gallant fashion. All of them carefully evade the problem of the necessity of the sacraments and of the extension of the results of the death of Jesus to pre-Christian humanity. They make, for example, the pre-Christian generations attain to blessedness through Christ, between His death and resurrection, preaching to the spirits of the lower world, as is already assumed in the First Epistle of Peter (iii 19-20). But the problem is not only whether they receive the knowledge of Jesus and become believers, but rather how without a real act of faith and without sacraments they can enter into blessedness.

To say that Joseph Smith had the courage to tackle the problem and was able to solve it on what is a broader scale and in what is arguably an even more gallant fashion may sound a bit hollow when compared to notions of unmediated divine revelation. But is it not at least preferable to the situation that arises when our cherished parallels turn out to work against us?

What does it mean to say that Joseph Smith or anyone else saw God, Jesus, angels, resurrected beings in visions? What can be claimed about deity from them? What kind of knowledge does the visionary possess and how is it acquired? Does it matter whether visions happen in the mind of the visionary while asleep, in a trance, unconscious? If not seen and heard with literal eyes and ears, must visions be discounted as non-factual, a-historical, un-true?
Continue reading “Visions”

Shamelessly jumping on the bandwagon …

The most reliable way to measure the accuracy of any biblical translation is not by comparing different texts, but by comparison with the Book of Mormon and modern-day revelations.

Would anyone care to guess what this means (whether new or not)?

A. different texts = other modern translations of the Bible
B. different texts = critical editions of the Bible in ancient languages
C. different texts = non-specific, all inclusive of anything besides KJV
D. none of the above

The Book of Mormon contains an allegory or two, maybe more than the New Testament, and it presupposes a typological interpretation of the Hebrew Bible. But if my perception is accurate, as a whole we are not very willing to interpret the Book of Mormon other than literally. Which is curious, not because the boundaries between literal and non-literal interpretation are questionable, being tied up with appeals to (objective) history and authorial intent, but because the Book of Mormon itself offers at least one non-literal interpretation of itself. Referring to the Liahona, Alma tells Helaman:

And now, my son, I would that ye should understand that these things are not without a shadow; for as our fathers were slothful to give heed to this compass (now these things were temporal) they did not prosper; even so it is with things which are spiritual. For behold, it is as easy to give heed to the word of Christ, which will point to you a straight course to eternal bliss, as it was for our fathers to give heed to this compass, which would point unto them a straight course to the promised land. And now I say, is there not a type in this thing? For just as surely as this director did bring our fathers, by following its course, to the promised land, shall the words of Christ, if we follow their course, carry us beyond this vale of sorrow into a far better land of promise.

If Alma can read sections of 1 Nephi other than literally, why can’t we do the same? Before getting too carried away, it should be noted that Alma gives no indication of doubt as to the historicity of the Liahona. In fact, he would have had the compass in his possession along with the records and interpreters that he was entrusting to Helaman. That is, for Alma, non-literal interpretation was not necessarily mutually exclusive of literal; literal interpretation need not be threatened by non-literal.

With this in mind, I’d like to issue a friendly challenge. Liken the scriptures to yourselves and do what Alma did. Read the Book of Mormon typologically or allegorically and see what happens. Should you need inspiration, you might consider Middle- and Neo-platonic interpretation of Homer, in which Odysseus is read as the soul, Circe as the danger of reincarnation, the Cyclops as attempted suicide, and the cave of Nymphs as the cosmos in miniature. As Porphyry writes, “when one takes into consideration the ancient wisdom and the vast intelligence of Homer … one cannot reject the idea that he has hinted at images of more divine things in molding his little story.”

Hoping to put a dent in my qualifying exam reading lists, and given the fact that I am a slow reader, I have resorted to focusing on introductions and conclusions, while skimming the rest. And what should I encounter but this incriminating passage:

I have long been annoyed by introductions that are largely devoted to succinct summaries of arguments and ideas presented in the bulk of a book. They usually serve only the purposes of lazy readers who desire to be knowledgeable about books without actually having read them. Therefore the reader will not be provided here with shortcuts to the ideas developed in this book. I would like to see [the] … work being tackled in depth rather than becoming the ephemeral topic of academic cocktail parties.

Guilty as charged. Remorseful? Yes. Will I do it again? Absolutely. In fact, I already have.

Here are my notes (mostly lifted directly without quotation marks but also including some paraphrasing) from the introduction to Recovered Roots: Collective Memory and the Making of Israeli National Tradition, by Yael Zerubavel:

Zerubavel looks at Israeli recollection and reconstruction of fall of Masada (73 CE), Bar Kokhba revolt (132-135CE), and defense of Tel Hai (1920); she explores invisible ties between living and dead made through commemoration; any commemorative narrative involves the deliberate suppression of memory; she relied on a variety of sources, from written to visual to oral, including interviews; commemoration is important for understanding the dynamic character of group memory; collective memory creates a particular periodization and evaluation of the past and turns certain events into political myths; Zerubavel explores how a historic battle in which several settlers die and the survivors evacuate the settlement can become a myth of successful defense and symbol of ‘no retreat’ (Tel Hai); how the leader of a revolt that ended with defeat is remembered as a legendary hero who led the people to freedom (Bar Kokhba); how a historical episode that ends with a collective suicide is transformed into a myth of fighting to the bitter end and a symbol of national renewal (Masada); Zionist commemorative literature was supported by the emergence of new commemorative rituals; the commemoration of historical events is not only a powerful means of reinforcing social solidarity but also an arena of struggle over power and control.

And from the conclusion:

Nationalist movements typically attempt to create a master commemorative narrative the highlights their members’ common past and legitimizes their aspiration for a shared destiny; this is one of the most important mechanisms by which a nation constructs a collective identity for purposes of an ‘imagined community;’ memory shapes the representation of the past and is highly selective; while some aspects of the past are uncovered or shift from the margins to the center of our historical consciousness, other aspects of the past are marginalized or fade into oblivion; any remembrance thus entails its own forgetfulness, as the two are interwoven in the process of producing the commemorative narratives; this accounts for the emergence of multiple representations of the past over time or by different groups; the rhetoric of change and continuity is an important dimension of the construction of a national memory and tradition; reformist and revolutionary movements tend to highlight their departure from the past and play down their continuity with what they regard as a discredited political and moral order; conservative movements, in contrast, prefer to obscure changes and emphasize their continuity with the past; the holiday cycle can be seen as a semiotic system that offers an nonhistorical framework of representation of the past; the holiday cycle determines which aspects of the past become more central to collective memory and which are assigned to oblivion; the holiday cycle thus subverts history through its perpetuation of mythical representations of the past; by adjusting history into these mythical molds, the holiday cycle continues to shape the understanding of the past to a greater extent than we would like to acknowledge; use of myth plot structures (e.g. few against many); collective memory can help construct the nation’s identity during its formative years but it can also turn into a contested arena that highlights social and political divisions.

As I (pretended to) read Zerubavel, I could not help thinking about how her analysis might be applied to our own Zionist movement. Are we perhaps guilty of creating a particular periodization and evaluation (Apostasy, Dark Ages) of the past and turning certain events into politico-religious myths (corruption of scriptures, loss of priesthood and temple ritual)? As a reformist and revolutionary (Restoration) movement, have we possibly tended to highlight our departure from the past (revelation) and play down our continuity with what we regard as a discredited politico-religious and moral order (Apostasy again)? More recently, as a conservative movement, have we maybe preferred to obscure changes (such as polygamy, priesthood ban) and emphasize our continuity with our own past (dispensations)?

In discussing instances of Israeli Jews learning later in the life when they go away to college that, no, Bar Kokhba was not victorious over the Romans but actually lost the war, she mentions how the ability to compartmentalize knowledge is so great that history and memory can coexist without apparent friction in some people, whereas others produce counternarratives: “The emergence of countermemories and the greater visibility that they enjoy in contemporary Israeli culture have become so pronounced during the last two decades that Israeli discourse has labeled this phenomenon niputs mitosim (shattering of myths). While some Israelis regard the process if ‘demythologization’ as a necessary response to the excessive glorification of the national periods by earlier generations, others consider the shattering of myths a subversive act that undermines the sacred foundations of Israeli society.” These and other responses to the apparent gaps between memory and history, or better, between two types of knowledge, might also be identified throughout the Mormon blog microcosm. Are some of us highly skilled at compartmentalization, others engaged in the shattering of myths as a painful but needed process, and still others opposed to such insurrection and sacrilege?

To come back to the beginning, at the same time I was thinking about the potential application of Zerubavel’s book to Mormonism, I could not help thinking about how her analysis might also be applied to academic disciplines, schools of thought, and methodologies. What are departmental reading lists and comprehensive exams if not attempts to create a master commorative narrative or collective memory that highlights students’ common past and legitimizes their aspiration for a shared destiny (getting a job) in an ‘imagined community’ (e.g. religious studies as opposed to some other department)? Is not each new theoretical approach something of a reformist and revolutionary movement tending to highlight its departure from the past and play down its continuity with what it regards as as discredited order, through the deployment of narrative periodization (e.g. Modern vs. Postmodern, critical vs. precritcal) and myth plot structures (e.g. march of progress)?

In the words of Fantastic Mr. Fox, oh cuss.

So I have become intrigued by aspects of the figure of Enoch in the Book of Moses: the wild man and seer who is slow of speech by human standards yet utters a divine language that allows him to command nature.

First I happened to notice some books on the literary stereotype of the wild man, such as Wild Men In the Looking Glass: The Mythic Origins of European Otherness by Roger Bartra. This set to me wondering whether there might be some connection with our wild man Enoch in the Pearl of Great Price.

A search on google books showed that there was, curiously enough, at least one native North American in the late 1800s with the name of Enoch Wildman, though this would seem to be coincidence. The only other lead was a vague association between Enoch in the ancient parabiblical texts and Enkidu from the Epic of Gilgamesh, archetype of the wild man.

Of course, the term ‘wild man’ is used of Ishmael in the KJV. But that does not really satisfy. I kept reading in Bartra’s book. One of the wild men he discusses is the famed sorcerer Merlin. Grieved at the death of his brothers, Merlin takes to life in the forest. When dragged backed to civilization he is found to possess the ability to reveal the past and future. He escapes once more to the forest, only to be seen again at his wife’s second marriage. He appears riding a stag in the company of many animals. Though now a hermit, the sight of his replacement enrages him so he tears off the stag’s antlers and casts them like javelins at the head of the groom.

Little of this fits our Enoch. Yet some of it does. The ability to control animals. The wild man’s visionary powers (whether religious or magical). And then there’s language. As Bartra writes:

The wild man did not have language, but took words by storm in order to express the murmurings of another world, the signals that nature gave society. The wild man spoke words that did not have literal meaning, but were eloquent in communicating sensations that civilized language could not express. . . . The medieval wild man was a stranger in his land, and his voice, gestures, and mimicry revealed a form of language shared by the wild beasts, a secret network of passionate messages emitted from the deep wells of nature.

Our Enoch is also slow of speech. But he does not learn the language of nature by living in the forest, even if he is a wild man. He gets it from God. Incidentally, Enoch and the notion of an all-powerful divine language can be found outside the Pearl of Great Price. There is an entire cottage industry of Enochian magic stemming from the work of John Dee and Edward Kelly in the 1500s, who used scrying techniques to communicate with angels.

I am not sure what to make of all this and am wandering pretty far from my field here. Hopefully others will be able shed some light (paging e.g. Steve Fleming … any instances of Jesus’ method for healing of the blind man being used in the middle ages and later in order to obtain revelation?). One of the things that intrigues me is that in the Book of Moses there is no explanation as to why Enoch should be called a wild man—at least not that I can see (by all means point out what it is I’m missing). The literary stereotype of the wild man helps some, though in many ways it does not fit. So what’s the deal?

Something like reincarnation is not totally irrelevant to BHodges’ recent posts on Roberts vs.
Smith. Enoch mentioned it in his nuancimony. T&S featured a short post on it the other month. And of course the crazies at New Cool Thang have been discussing multiple mortal probations for years.

The most explicit sources on the topic that I am aware of are a couple of passages in Orson F. Whitney’s journal. In the first he relates a conversation between his mother (Helen Mar Kimball Smith Whitney) and his ‘aunt’ (Precindia Huntington Buell Smith Kimball), as told to him by his mother. She and his aunt confess to each other a belief in “plural probations.” Then there is a page break just as the latter is about to relate in confirmation of the belief something Joseph Smith purportedly said.

Continue reading “De occultissimis”