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 The title for this post comes from the (slightly altered) title of a presentation given at a conference at Yale for Latter-day Saint students (doing work in religion). The presenter, a Yale Div School student, argued for moving beyond apologetics, except in certain circumstances. I would like to further examine the circumstances which make apologetics appropriate. Continue reading “Apologetics: “Don’t we have Anything Else to Talk About?””

Like my buddies here at FPR, I’ve been thinking about the intersection of LDS life and biblical or religious scholarship.  For my part, I want to call your attention to three incidents that I think intersect at a significant point:  

–Jan Shipps’ quip to the effect that one wonders if LDS scholars “know how to operate in the professional world.” (Deseret Morning News, 21 Jun 2005) 

–a young man who implicitly suggested that the rest of Christianity was “lost and confused” without the Book of Mormon  

–a general practice of demonizing non-LDS Biblical or religious scholarship by using the expression “scholars say…” followed by some scary tidbit that is accurate but by no means reflects either consensus or  the range of current opinion 

I am going to ask that you trust me that the last two things occurred.  My argument does not depend on the details, so your discrete lack of curiosity will help preserve both privacy and dignity. 

What these three scenarios have in common is that the subject of each is in some fashion unable to deal productively with what might be called the religious other.  Why is this so?

  Continue reading “Religion 100”

At a recent conference held at Yale for LDS students doing work in Religious Studies, one of the issues that was broached but not really expanded on was the relationship between the Church and the scholar. In the next few posts I would like to unpack the issue a little more.

In this post I would like to pose the notion of priority in questions–are some questions inherently better than others? As scholars are we “progressing” in asking the questions we ask? Are we “moving beyond” the old questions that once interested us, or are we simply moving on to “different” ones?

The background for this comes from the fact that I am no longer interested in the types of questions I used to be. Debates about Coke and the Word of Wisdom, or progression between kingdoms after death don’t interest me anymore. Looking back at those questions I can’t help but wonder if I’ve “progressed” onto new issues, or if other things have simply struck my fancy (or perhaps I’ve “regressed”).

I’m not necessarily looking to make my experience paradigmatic in any way, but it does seem to follow similar trends of those I know working on “advanced” degrees (related to religion, at least). The bigger question of course, is whether there is a hierarchy of questions, or at least a hierarchy to a style of questioning (perhaps related to the questions that are asked). As scholars do we want to establish our “progression” as the norm (assuming some sense of unity constituting an “our”)? One argument I’ve heard in support of this is that an added level of self-reflexivity, which is part of “scholarly” questioning is something all members should develop. The recent post by Jupiter’s Child about the lack of self-reflexivity of things posted in the Daily Universe is evidence of this.

Many posts at FPR of late have had to do with Kent Jackson’s description of LDS scholarship. At issue is to what extent Latter-day Saints can (or should) engage in a dialogue with the greater world of academia, and to what extent we should let our faith claims dictate our research and conclusions.

This issue has been recently exemplified in a prominent, front-page Daily Universe (BYU’s student-run newspaper) article entitled “Mysteries of Ancient Egyptian Papyri Revealed” (Feb 15, 2007), complete with imposing but poorly produced graphic. The article first describes how BYU/Maxwell Institute uses multispectral imaging to read otherwise illegible texts written on papyri and other materials. It then goes on to describe some of the contents of these texts and notes that many students are participating in the work.

Imagine my horror when the article was emailed to a major ANE mailing list with the following paragraphs included:
Continue reading “Colonization, Conformity, and Contribution, Part I”

I recently discovered that Elder McConkie was aware of Targums, translations of the Hebrew Bible into Aramaic. I’ll discuss his understanding of them and a tantalizing tidbit stemming therefrom in my next post.

In the meanwhile, that discovery helped me formulate a strategy for helping certain kinds of LDS readers to understand that it’s ok to read and study non-KJV editions of the Bible. The following handout (necessarily limited due to space and audience) is what I prepared for an Institute class to make this point. Continue reading “Elder McConkie and Targumim, or How to Help LDS Read Non-KJV Versions”

Hello. I’m a new semi-perma-blogger here at FPR. I’m a graduate student in a similar field to these other folks, though much more Old Testament than New. I’ve been a denizen of the bloggernacle for a long time, posting here, there, and everywhere.

My moniker comes from a favorite passage of Isaiah, 3:13. KJV “The LORD standeth up to plead, and standeth to judge the people.” This really does NOT convey the force of the Hebrew.

The first verb is nitsav, meaning to stand up, but also stand up against, take or make one’s stand with more force than mere standing.

“To plead” also doesn’t quite carry the right force. Lariv means “to contend with.” More technically, it means to bring to court, to sue. It finds usage in what has been called the “prophetic lawsuit.” In other words, God is about to lay the smack down on the Israelites.

The second phrase, paralleling the first, is omed ladin, “he stands to judge.” This phrase was my first choice for pen name, and I quickly dismissed it for obvious reasons when I saw how it looked it English. I suppose I could have written it more like it’s pronounced, omayd ladeen, but I didn’t think about that when coming up with the name.

The NRSV captures it better than the KJV, though of course, you should just all learn Hebrew. “The LORD rises to argue his case; he stands to judge the peoples.”

I’m glad to be at FPR, hoping to post once a week or so.

Tomorrow I’ll have a post about Elder McConkie, Targumim, and Bible translations.

Sacrament Meeting can be one of the most spiritually fulfilling meetings in church. The talks can be fresh, exciting, and deeply moving. They can set the tone for your spiritual outlook for the rest of the week at least. Sometimes a talk is so good that you actually remember it for years later.

It can also be one of the most painful meetings at church. Talks can be rote, predictable, and profoundly boring. My least favorite are the talks that simply quote general authorities. One of my very first posts on this blog was what I thought was a crisis of rhetoric in the church.

So, what if you (the reader) were in charge of programing for your sacrament meetings? What practical advice do you have? Would you instruct the speakers on how to speak? How would you do that? What kinds of topics would you like? Are there some topics that are necessarily interesting, no matter how bad the speaker might screw it up? I want to compile a guide here for great sacrament meeting tips and topics.

One more thing: Would the topics you would suggest change if this were a singles ward with college students and nannies? The guide that I am trying to put together here doesn’t require that this be the framework, but I am especially interested in thoughts about this situation.

The health risks of American football have been getting a lot of attention in the press lately, no doubt in anticipation of the Super Bowl. Both the New York Times and the Boston Globe ran articles on the frequency of head injuries in professional football. The articles highlighted former Patriots linebacker, Ted Johnson, who received several concussions during his career. Johnson’s head injuries resulted in severe depression and drug addiction.

Like many other professional and amateur football players, Johnson felt trapped by expectations that he should play through the pain. American football inspires a culture of toughness. Encouraged by fans, coaches and other players, many continue playing even after sustaining major injuries. One study, conducted by researchers at the University of North Carolina, found that N.F.L. players faced a 37% higher risk of suffering from Alzheimer’s.

Yet the kind of press that portrays the dangers of football is not commensurate with the overwhelmingly positive depiction of star athletes. The Super Bowl regularly draws audiences of between 75 and 95 million television viewers. Professional athletes are idolized.

Even successful coaches receive vast amounts of attention (and wealth). It is telling that at least 23 college football coaches are paid salaries in excess of $1 million. In several cases these coaches’ salaries far outweigh the university presidents’ annual income, let alone the professors’ and administrators’ pay. Clearly the United States has a fascination with what can at times be a very violent sport.

Are there inherit problems with this country’s massive consumption of professional football? This is an important question for Mormons. We have several members on N.F.L. teams who sometimes function as unofficial spokesmen for the church, including Ty Detmer (and his little brother Koy), Chad Lewis, and, of course, Steve Young. The LDS church has tacitly endorsed football. For example, Elder Wirthlin, who never made it into the professional leagues, was nevertheless awarded for being a “lifelong supporter” of college football.

There may be arguments both for and against the idealization of football stars (be they LDS or not). On the one hand, football is a dangerous sport. By idealizing the athletes of aggressive sports like football, don’t we become party to the inevitable injuries players sustain? On the other hand, audiences of football tend to also play football; and participation in any sport – even dangerous ones – seems preferable to inactivity. Obesity, after all, will kill a lot more people than concussions from flag football.

I recently learned that a person I know put her baby up for adoption. As I don’t know all the details of this story, I won’t go into to specifics; but I am familiar with a couple of other people who, aftering getting pregnant while rather young (usually in their teens) gave up their children at the encouragment of the church.

I’m wondering about the reasoning behind this encouragement (both culturally and institutionally).

One couple I met, got pregnant while in highschool and gave their baby up for adoption. When this couple turned 18 they were married, and I met them in our ward when they were in their young 20’s. Not a Sunday would go past without them talking about thier baby. Wondering what he was doing, if he had been treated well. I couldn’t help but wonder if adoption was the right thing for them to do.

I know this is one case, and maybe even in this circumstance adoption was right, but what I would like to question is the rationale for encouraging adoption. What I usually hear is that adoption is right when it gives the child the best home possible. It seems that what is implied by “best home possible” is two loving parents, who are active members of the church and are financially stable.

Is there more than this that comes into play?

handle’s recent and excellent post on architecture raises some connected issues that I’ve been struggling with lately: To what extent should the church reflect local culture, flavor, etc. and to what extent should it be Mormon? I know this is quite broad, and diahman and others have posted on related questions. The one I want to ask is more specific to architectural and temple traditions.

Are we more invested when we pay for and design our own meetinghouses? And do we understand the temple better and become more engaged with it when we are the ones doing the acting and not actors on a screen? Does a cookie-cutter temple or ceremony imply cookie-cutter practice? Is this what God wants? I am profoundly convinced that architecture (and active participation in ritual) alters the spirit.

In my hometown recently a world-famous architect designed a pedestrian bridge that cost far too much for a small town to afford, and many were justifiably angry about it (although the project was almost entirely funded by private donors). Once it was built, though, it became a focus for the community, a gathering place, and for the first time in my life I felt like there was a community.

I grew up going to a completely non-standard meetinghouse and temple. In other areas of the country I’ve attended regularly the cookie-cutter types (with one embarrassing story about going in the wrong bathroom because the position of male/female restrooms was one thing they decided to vary.) Now I’m back to a non-standard meetinghouse that sometimes drives me crazy, but it drives me crazy in all the ways the area I live in drives me crazy. In this building the local customs, flavor, attitudes, people are expressed, and in the end it enhances my worship experience. One would have to say the same thing about the “cookie cutter” buildings–not that the people are monotonous in their attitudes, but that their values (frugality, willingness to accept authority, perhaps even desire for unity) are expressed through this architecture. Maybe it says more about me–in both positive and negative ways–that I prefer atypical architecture.

I think similarly about the format of the temple ceremony. I realize that the video format makes it possible for scores more to attend and for more temples to be open, less staffing problems, etc., but likewise something is lost when the patrons aren’t the ones participating in the ceremony–delivering the lines, playing out the drama. I worry that there is a trend toward the passive, and that some of the values the Church was built on (local sacrifice and dedication are two I’m thinking of) are fading. As the architecture becomes increasingly unremarkable (and Protestant?), are we?