And as a second thought, what of all the doctrine taught by Paul? Did he have the authority to declare Church doctrine?

Peter’s death is not recorded in the New Testament and any information is not terribly reliable.  He is thought to have died in Rome and is buried at the Vatican.  According to the Catholic Church, the Pope that follows Peter as the leader is Linus, The Bishop of Rome, who may or may not be the person mentioned 2 Timothy 4:21. However, no credible evidence exists that the Office of Bishop of Rome has anything to do with the Holy Apostleship.  It is therefore, unclear, who, if anyone succeed Peters as the Head of the Church with the Keys of the Priesthood.

The Apostle Paul was certainly among the most prolific New Testament writers with 13 of the epistles attributed to him included in the canon of the New Testament. We also know that he was a “second generation” Apostle, having had a vision of the Savior, but not having ever been in His earthly presence.

So Christ’s teachings Paul received were basically transmitted second hand from the Apostles who knew Christ personally.

In Paul’s writings, he declared doctrine on these important issues:

a.      Men and Women must be redeemed from the fall.

b.      Justification by Faith, no longer following the Law of Moses

c.       Salvation by Grace, through the Atonement of Christ

d.      We become new creatures in Christ, our nature changed.

e.      Gifts of the Spirit

f.        Jesus Christ transcends all things

And many others.

The question is this:

Was Paul’s teaching established doctrine taught by Christ and/or authorized by the Chief Apostle after Christ’s death, or was he proclaiming new doctrine, never before taught?  And if he was doing the latter, did he possess the authority to do so?

The Christian world, including the LDS, rely very, very heavily of the writings of Paul for much of its doctrinal justification, so it is important to know whether Paul was acting under authority or just preaching his own ideas.

What do you think?

If your ward happens to be just a little bit behind on the Sunday School lessons, you might experience the synchronicity of having the Book of Jonah read on Yom Kippur.  This year, the Jewish holiday falls on September 18 (close enough to Sunday the 19th!) and Jonah is traditionally read as part of the celebration.

Yom Kippur (the Day of Atonement) is the holiest and most widely observed day on the Jewish calendar.  It is a day of fasting, lengthy confession of sins, prayer, and repentance.  Jonah’s prophecy is included in the liturgy for that day as a symbolic spiritual journey that each person undertakes.  I think the symbolism in Jonah’s story is very meaningful and I’d like to explore it in depth here.

The message of Jonah’s prophecy resonates within the human soul. We are born with a subconscious realization of the fact that we have a mission. We seek escape, because our mission is often one that we are afraid to attempt. Jonah’s story begins when he is given a mission from the Lord and he flees to Joppa and there boards a ship to Tarshish.  These places actually exist, but the meaning of the names of these cities are “beauty” and “wealth.”  We comfort ourselves externally by escaping from our inner knowledge of our mission through the pursuit of wealth, and by surrounding ourselves with worldly beauty.

The water journey is powerfully symbolic in literature.  Beginning with ancient sources in a number of cultures and languages, a hero’s voyage across the waters evokes adventure, danger, growth, and self-discovery.  Included in this canon is the ancient Mesopotamian story of Gilgamesh: one man’s search for immortality.  Although widely known for its parallel to the Biblical story of the Flood, this is a work which stands on its own.  It illuminates human relationships, experiences and feelings: loneliness, love, loss, revenge, regret, endurance, joy and sorrow, and the fear of oblivion that comes with death.  The Celtic narrative of Brendan the Navigator is a water quest designed to bring him into engagement with God.  His journey is cyclic; it takes he and his fellow travelers seven years to arrive at a place that was never so far from their starting point.  The Rime of the Ancient Mariner is a more modern water journey — an exploration of the significance of nature in a world characterized by religious uncertainty.  In all of these pieces, the human on a quest for immortality learns something important about death and life, the Divine, and his own inner soul.

In these water journeys, the ship is meaningful and symbolic of the human body. We face moments in life in which the fragility of our bodies is inescapable, as in when we face illness, or confront times of danger that seem to last an eternity until they are resolved. Jonah’s weakness is apparent in the story, but he also shows moments of triumph, as when he asks the sailors to cast him into the sea so that they may continue their voyage unencumbered; or when he prays in the belly of the great fish. As with Jonah, our recognition of our own vulnerability can bring us to finally transcend our ego, surrendering our desire to control events, and beginning at last to accept our mission in life, no matter what it is.  We can suffer the vicissitudes of life, and recognize that we ourselves have caused the storms to toss us back and forth. We can move forward to fulfill our purpose, but we are still not free of conflict and anxiety until we finally recognize that every step along the way, we are embraced by Divine compassion.

The great fish is the symbol of confrontation of the recognition that our ultimate fate is the grave. Each must have his or her days of darkness in the belly of the fish, facing the reality of death. For some, that recognition almost feels like a welcome refuge. For others, facing death forces them at last into pursuing life!

Finally, notice that with his desire to escape his mission, Jonah did not fear failure.  His fear was that his preaching would have an effect on the pagan people he was sent to, and they would also become God’s chosen people.  No, he wasn’t afraid of failure, but success!  This reminds me of an excerpt from Return to Love by Marianne Williamson (often erroneously attributed to Nelson Mandela):

Our Greatest Fear —Marianne Williamson

Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate.

Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure.

It is our light not our darkness that most frightens us.

We ask ourselves, who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented and fabulous?

Actually, who are you not to be?

You are a child of God.

Your playing small does not serve the world.

There’s nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won’t feel insecure around you.

We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us.

It’s not just in some of us; it’s in everyone.

And as we let our own light shine,
we unconsciously give other people
permission to do the same.

As we are liberated from our own fear,
Our presence automatically liberates others.

Jonah is hardly the only prophet who was reluctant to respond to God’s call. Even Moses, the greatest of all prophets, tried to persuade God to send somebody else. Jonah was not the only prophet to show human weakness.  But in the end, Jonah’s tale even becomes a symbolic representation of the Savior, when the Lord identifies the three days and nights in the fish’s belly as analogous with what he himself will have to face (Matt 12:39-41).  Through his spiritual journey, Jonah learned to “think different“: to embrace his mission, to accept and work with his unique talents and failings, to develop compassion for his fellow man.

It is then that we are ready to return to God. While for each of us the path is our own, and never yet explored by any other person, Jonah knew the beginning and the end of the journey that we all make.

Our goal is to get at true principles, but we are best able to seek after true principles when those principles are cultivated and reinforced through rules. However, if we lose sight of the principles for the rules, then our obedience becomes Pharisaical; we miss the point.

As I mentioned last week, I think the seed analogy is powerful because how visual and universal it is. But another way that it is powerful is in its flexibility — we know quite a few things about seeds in reality that can be applied to the simile. What is the flexibility of an analogy of the scriptures being a seed?

The issue is this: principles such as honesty and chastity are general and universal. Rules such as the Law of Chastity are particular and specific. Sometimes, it seems like planting the word as a seed doesn’t work. Alma 32 assumes that the seed will grow for anyone. Yet, this isn’t always the case.

Different people are enticed by different philosophies, religions, and lifestyles. They are driven away by different philosophies, religions, and lifestyles as well. What does this do to our seed analogy?

Well, actually, the seed analogy is surprisingly robust for this case.

Firstly, within the seed are remarkable meters for temperature, moisture, light, and so on. Seeds germinate when these various factors are ideal and remain dormant until then. Similarly, proper application of scriptural precepts requires appropriate internal and external conditions.

Secondly (and much more obviously), there are several kinds of seeds in life. Each seed has the same kinds of parts, like the embryo, nutrients for the embryo, and the coat which shells around the seed. Yet seeds all basically work the same way ideally. They germinate, sprout, and grow. But beyond that, the seeds can look quite different and produce very different plants.

So then, shouldn’t we recognize that when Alma 32 refers to the Word as a seed, this does not mean there can’t be other seeds? And since living seeds all can germinate, sprout, and grow, doesn’t this mean that different spiritual seeds could enlarge the soul and enlighten the mind?

In the last post, I made an analogy to accounting standards (and traffic rules). This works well with this modified seed analogy. Believe it or not, but accounting isn’t this monolithic and universal structure. To the contrary, there are different accounting standards (as there are different tax codes). Just like there are different traffic rules and norms.

What does all this diversity mean? Does it mean everything is completely relative and there are no general principles to glean?

Actually, the diversity supports universal principles in each case. Different traffic rules are all different approaches that all try to reach the same goal of a safe driving experience for all. Different accounting standards are all different approaches that all try to reach the same goal of communicating economic decisions. And different religious, philosophical, and lifestyle codes are all different approaches that all try to reach the same set of principles.

We are often situated in a particular setting of rules, whether it be religious or legal. Most of the times, the rules that we have prime us well to seek true principles. Other times, we look to improve and build upon our rules (at least, that’s what Congress thinks it’s doing, right?). Nevertheless, we must always be looking out for the right principles — wherever they may be — that will truly enlarge our souls.

As Mormons we are encouraged to seek truth, wherever it may be found. But we also believe that our own tradition, by virtue of being led by prophets, seers, and revelators, contains that truth. May we then recognize truths that can be found universally through our own particular station.

The seed is a versatile image and metaphor because it is the start of everything: the start of every life; the start of every endeavor; the start of every idea. The start of every being and the start of every becoming. The 32nd chapter of Alma talks about the Word being a seed, and from there we learn just what we can expect from a single seed.

[Story 1]

The Word is a seed that we must take the chance to plant first, and which, hopefully, if we do plant it, will germinate, sprout and grow, enlarging our souls and enlightening our minds.

In my last post, commenter st1305 wrote that there cannot be faith in a false idea, because faith is not simply belief. Faith, instead, is the application of a belief that enlarges the soul and enlightens the mind, as Alma 32: 34 and 35 also describe. A false idea, he argued, would not enlarge the soul and enlighten the mind. What st1305 wrote was interesting:

This is true for all of the other principles that I apply in my life – chastity, honesty, integrity, temple work, missionary work and a host of other principles in my faith. I know they are true as I have applied them and I see the fruits and they are good.

I saw a distinction between the ideas that st1305 was raising, however. Principles like honesty, integrity and service differ from ones like temple work or tithing in that the former are universal and general, but the latter are specific and particular implementations as found within the church. In some cases, they are rules that at best seek to capture a more general principle.

The LDS church does not have any sort of exclusive claim on a principle like chastity, even if they do have claims to particular stipulations of the law of chastity. But from here is the first question…what is it that enlarges our soul and enlightens our mind? The rule…or the principle?

I believe it is the principle. When we lose sight of the principles for rules, then our faith becomes Pharisaical. Hollow.

A dangerous new thought sprouted forth: wouldn’t we do best to focus on principles without relying so much on rules?

[/Story 1]

Any day now, America will (if the adoption date ever stops pushing back) migrate away from the Generally Accepted Accounting Principles (GAAP) that we have historically used to International Financial Reporting Standards (IFRS).

Supporters of IFRS argue that the change will increase comparability of financial statements — instead of comparing apples to oranges, we’ll all be comparing oranges. In addition, since IFRS is more principles-based, IFRS will not encourage abuse of the brightline rules that US GAAP has.

Let me try to explain the difference using a non-accounting example.

[Story 2]

When we drive, we operate under a basic principle: we want our driving experience to be safe. To satisfy this principle, we develop certain rules, such as the speed limit.

US GAAP sets clear and easy-to-understand (that is, “bright line”) speed limits with directly measurable values. A 40 mile per hour speed limit gives everyone a clear boundary — you can be ticketed for going over 40. Some cops may allow some higher speeds to slide, but if you get caught, the rules are clear.

Everyone is justified to go up to 40 mph, and can do so whenever possible with legal protection.

What could be bad about this? How could this possibly be abused? 40 miles per hour isn’t even that fast…

Let’s say that the speed limit is the ultimate rule for speed and you are driving in terrible weather. In this case, couldn’t you see how a simple, clear-cut rule could backfire and fail to establish our principle (and principal) goal of maintaining safety?

…Yet, creating exceptions for every occurrence would just create a tremendous driver’s manual (not to mention street signs!) In the case of accounting scandals, it wouldn’t even work to prevent frauds before they are perpetuated. New rules always are a step behind the crooks.

So what if instead we had no bright line speed limit numbers, but instead we were given the principle, “Drive safely given the environment”? This extreme case highlights the allure of IFRS.

Drivers wouldn’t have a rule to which they could hug close. However, rule enforcers also wouldn’t have a rule to which they could hug close. If a police officer disagreed with you on the optimally safe speed, you would have no bright line precedent of speed limit to back up your case.

In accounting, we have a bit of a different issue. Normally, in a court, you don’t easily win against a police officer. However, in a court, groups can win against the auditor. Additionally, auditors are hired by the firms they audit, so they have (at least) two incentives: 1) to make sure their clients stay in business and 2) to make decisions that are less likely to be challenged in courts. With clear-cut rules, the audit firm can at least defend its decisions both to clients and juries by saying, “We play according to the rules.” But without clear-cut rules, the courts do not have clear-cut rules with which to crucify (or protect), and auditors do not have the mechanism to challenge more fiscally aggressive clients.

So the big push against principles-based accounting is that it too does not prevent against fraud but instead gives ne’er-do-well executives even greater flexibility to report financial information aggressively. Ne’er-do-well execs can argue that really, 80 miles per hour is always safe, no matter the road conditions. In addition, supporters of GAAP note that the P in GAAP already is “principles,” and a balance of clear rules and principles (like the balance of speed limits with principles of safety in less-ideal conditions) is best.

[/Story 2]

[Synthesis]

When I thought about the audit and accounting example, I began to realize that the rules are valuable for inculcating the principles. Sure, sometimes they can be abused (our rules-based accounting did not prevent Enron, and in the aftermath, some research has suggested that technically, no violations of GAAP or auditing standards took place. Enron simply worked creatively and aggressively within the legal boundaries), but in this case we need to balance re-tweak rules for the sake of the principles, not eliminate one or the other.

[/Synthesis]

The next thing I thought about, as a result of thinking about accounting standards, is the fact that there are many sets of accounting standards seeking after the same principles. What comparison can we make with seeds and the Word? You’ll have to stay tuned for next week’s entry!

I’ve learned some interesting concepts from class on Ancient and Medieval Church History.  Session #23 discusses Eastern Orthodoxy.  First, let’s have a little background.  The Eastern Orthodox Church officially split with the Catholic Church in 1054.  The Pope excommunicated the Patriarch in Constantinople, so the Patriarch did the same to the Pope.  There had been some different emphasis on theology for quite some time.  For example, while the Catholic Church claimed that the Pope held all the leadership, the Orthodox Church held a much less central authority.  The Orthodox belief of revelation is that God speaks through these councils, not one central person.

There were seven early councils (such as the Nicene Council.) These edicts of these councils are usually considered scripture in the Orthodox church.  The various Orthodox churches (Russian, Greek, etc) are quite a bit more autonomous.  The Orthodox church even holds out that there could one day be an American Orthodox church, if membership warrants such an organization.

Even before the official split, there were many tensions between Rome and Constantinople.  In the podcast, the teacher refers to Rome as the “Western” church, and Constantinople as the “Eastern” church.  The western church spoke mostly Latin, while the eastern church spoke mostly Greek.  In the West, the church had an emphasis on:

1. Sin
2. Grace
3. Justification
4. Salvation
5. Sacraments

The eastern church agrees, but has a larger emphasis on:

1. Apophaticism – an emphasis on the mystery of God.
2. Tradition
3. Theosis
4. Icons

I’d like to talk about Theosis.  Theosis is a greek word meaning Deification, as in the deification of humanity.  Unfortunately, I do not know the name of the teacher, but anyone can download the podcast to hear him directly.  I’d like to quote the teacher directly.

“[Theosis] is the word that really sums up salvation.  In the West, we talk about sin and justification as a way of understanding salvation.  In the East, the emphasis is on theosis or deification.  We are changed so that we become like God, or Eastern theologians will say it even more strongly than that.  As Athanasius put it, ‘God became man, that man might become God.’  That’s theosis, or deification.

Well, that strikes the western mind as kind of a problematic way to understand theology and to understand the transforming effect of grace.  The eastern mind though sees that as the real purpose of Christ coming into the world, to transform us that we become like him.  In some ways, we can see that if we’re talking about union with Christ, or becoming more and more like Christ or becoming more and more like God.  But in the eastern expression of theosis, it is stated so strongly that Christ became man, that we might become God that most western thinkers pull back from that.  It sounds like a kind of heresy of some sort.  I expect closer examination of the eastern idea of theosis, will reveal that the eastern theology doesn’t for the most part, go over the line, but it uses language that can be suggested of something that western Christians would want to avoid.

The people in the west that pick up this same idea are the mystics, and in the west, they were constantly accused of pantheism.  Because, to the western mind, this kind of language, and this kind of expression goes too far because it tends to blur the distinction between God and his creation.”

I decided to look up theosis on Wikipedia, and found this interesting quote from St Ireneaus (who lived 130-202 AD.)  He is considered a saint in both the Catholic and Orthodox churches.  “St. Irenaeus explained this concept in Against Heresies, Book 5, in the Preface, “the Word of God, our Lord Jesus Christ, who did, through His transcendent love, become what we are, that He might bring us to be even what He is Himself.”

It seems to me that mormons have much in common with this idea of theosis.  This sounds quite similar to Lorenzo Snow’s quote, “As man now is, God once was; as God now is, man may be.” Comments?

So, re-reading the Book of Mormon stayed on the to-do list for a while. But then the press became more persistent and insistent: “No, you REALLY need to re-read the Book of Mormon,” and the very persistence began to get through my blocks of rationalization. So I kept moving it up the to-do-list until it was high among the emergencies and the recurring tasks, and I began to read.

I had not gone cover-to-cover since I was in elementary school. I still have my first Book of Mormon given me as a baptism gift, and almost every verse in it is underlined: I didn’t know what went with what back then, and figured just about everything must be terribly important and interrelated. So I absorbed the story for a story important in my religion, and soaked up any theology unconsciously in the process. In the decades since, I used the Book of Mormon many times in preparing sermons; you preach a lot when you live in a denomination of mostly small congregations where priesthood is not the province of all worthy males. I taught many individual topics in classes or missionary efforts. I even had a few verbal jousts on my front steps with LDS missionaries before I learned that was fratricide that wasted everyone’s time. But the focus on the immediacy of my assigned tasks didn’t convey the global oversight of that first boyhood reading. In the later readings, I had the theology, both from the Book itself as well as from a deeper understanding of the other scriptural sources of Christian theology, but had lost track of the story as story.

From this perspective, as I began to read I began to understand overarching themes I’d missed before because they hadn’t been “on task”. Among them, I began in particular to see the books of 1^st Nephi through the Words of Mormon as sort of an “old” Old Testament concerned with the overwhelming question of the first generations of Nephites: “Is there still a place for us with God?”

After all, in 600 BC, Judea was the “church”. You didn’t think of personal salvation outside of the structure of your Jewish tribal identity, and keeping the covenant kept your identity guaranteed by the only true God. I mean, look what had happened to the Northern Kingdom. Just gone! Conceptually to the Jews then, it didn’t matter whether individuals in the 10 tribes had been obedient or disobedient, just or unjust. The Kingdom of Israel had been judged unworthy of God’s continued protection as a whole kingdom. The fate of the people as individuals simply was not a question that had any place in the mental landscape. What did God care about a just Assyrian or Egyptian compared to a Jew?

What does it do to your mental landscape, then, when God starts telling you that you are to leave your tribe, and you aren’t ever coming back? You are being further told that the tribe itself is about to be conquered and won’t be there if you do change your mind. You are amputating your culture, and you have little to replace it with, physically, mentally, emotionally, or spiritually. There is beyond the wilderness and the sea a “land of promise” to fill the physical hole, if you cling to your faith, but what replaces everything else?

Lehi and Nephi had their visions. They went, but you can see their frustration and anger at the Jews in their writings over the sheer stupidity of the disobedience of the covenant that was bringing the Babylonian disaster upon them. Laman and Lemuel turned their anger toward their father instead. Everybody was supposedly committed to going into the wilderness, but they all kept forgetting things (like wives) and finding reasons to have to go back to Jerusalem to get them. They seem to have been in shock. Stay! Go! Make up your mind!

And so the scriptures about the ultimate fate of Israel/Judea, as discussed by Isaiah or Zenos, become dominant concerns in this Book of Mormon “old” Old Testament. It is not an abstract theological debate to the Nephites; much of their personal focus and records are devoted to testifying that God has promised a reconnection of their seed (and even the seed of their rebellious Lamanite brethren) to the Israelites in a future time. Acceptance of Christ is seen as the means of this reconnection as well as the means of personal salvation. In fact, personal salvation is the newer, more revelatory concept which is increasingly emphasized as the story moves toward its historical climax. Even at the time of Christ’s appearance, this societal reconnection is on the minds of the people, and Christ takes time to reemphasize it along with his teachings about personal salvation. Indeed, “convincing of the Jew” of Christ’s divinity is as important as “convincing of the Gentiles”; the land of promise is not just a promise for the Nephites, but a means of keeping a promise by God for everyone else.

Many of those who come to this site feel either their “sense of the Spirit” or the “sense of their intellect” calling them into the “wilderness”. Whether it is because the church is not found to be as-advertised, because it changes too slowly, or because it changes too much, the shock and the anger are real and pretty much the same for all. They often no longer can support parts of the culture, but have nothing clear in their sights to replace it. They leave, miss something they left behind, go back, and try again to follow one direction or the other. Some fraction of them experience rejection by the community because they are perceived to be rejecting the norms of the community first. And sometimes they don’t know whether to be angry at others or ashamed of themselves.

They are reenacting this great dilemma of the early Nephites. How are they and their families to be connected to the purposes of God, when they have previously experienced their “tribe” as the only authorized means of connection? Yet, if the call is genuine, it will keep persisting and growing more insistent. There will be a land of promise for those who follow that call, and if the Nephite example holds, it will not just be a land of promise for those “wandering Mormons”. It will be a land of promise of those who come after them, and, in the long run, a blessing for the tribe they left behind as well. Experiencing being called into the wilderness isn’t a strange thing in Mormon history; it’s sort of what makes you one of the tribe in the first place.

In some cases, a Greek/Latin pronunciation is used, in others, Middle English.

Here are some examples.

It seems the furthest one away from the original is EVE. Her Hebrew name is Chavah (yes, like Fiddler on the Roof) and it means “Giving Life.” Because she is the “Mother of all living.” (Gen 3:20). Some have said that Eve was chosen because it is close to EVIL.” And early Christian belief is that the fall brought evil into this world and it was Eve’s fault. And we, as Latter-Day Saints know, nothing could be farther from the truth.

The rest seem nothing more than differences in transliteration from one language to another. However, the other set of names that has always amused me is Elijah and Elisha. People always seem to mix them up because in English pronunciation the names are similar, yet in Hebrew, it is very easy to tell them apart.  Eliyahoo versus Elisha.

The story of David and Jonathan is one of the most inspiring examples of true friendship anywhere.  Our LDS SS manual firmly places this lesson within the mainstream view of Biblical exegesis, presenting the two as strong personal and platonic friends.  As I studied the covenant made between these young men in 1 Samuel 18, I was touched by the loyalty shown by the young Jonathan, because he “loved [David] as his own soul.”  Because of this love, Jonathan relinquishes his hopes for his father’s throne in deference to God’s choice.  In a symbolic and ceremonial gesture, Jonathan strips off his robe, which represents the authority he holds to succeed his father, King Saul, and gives it to David.  He also gives David his sword and his bow, representing his military prerogative; and his girdle, which symbolizes spiritual truths and the kingdom of God.

But other writers, beginning with Homer and continuing to the present day, have noted the strong elements of intimacy and eroticism within the relationship.  David’s love for Jonathan is described as “wonderful, passing the love of women.”  Saul also reprimands Jonathan at the dinner table, accusing him that “thou hast chosen the son of Jesse to thine own confusion, and unto the confusion of thy mother’s nakedness.”  Martti Nissinen concludes that this “choosing (bahar) may indicate a permanent choice and firm relationship, and the mention of “nakedness” (erwa) could be interpreted to convey a negative sexual nuance, giving the impression that Saul saw something indecent in Jonathan’s and David’s relationship.  Some also interpret this as Saul’s caution that choosing David as a lover meant that Jonathan could not produce an heir to the throne. There is also an exchange pointing to 1 Samuel 18:21. Here Saul tells David that when he marries Michal he will become his son-in-law for the second time.  There is reason to suppose the union of Jonathan and David represents the first.

What does it mean that the soul of Jonathan was knit with the soul of David?

In trying to interpret the story of these two Biblical figures, I am greatly influenced by my reading of Michael Quinn’s Same-Sex Dynamics among Nineteenth-Century Americans.  In this book, Quinn describes a nineteenth-century Mormon culture far more hospitable to and tolerant of same-sex relationships than that of modern Mormonism, which he regards as “homophobic.”  He gives several examples of long-term relationships among Mormon couples he believes were homosexual.  But in doing so, he also admits of a world and an era where emotional intimacy and physical closeness of same-sex friends did NOT involve homoeroticism.  He gives examples of letters written in the nineteenth century between platonic friends which contained emotional intensity and passionate references.  Same-sex friends held hands, kissed each other on the lips, and sometimes slept in the same bed for years at a time. These things are more aptly described as “homosociality.”   Reading about this phenomenon gave me an insight into the world view of previous ages that I had not understood before reading the book.

At times when I read the story of David and Jonathan through my twenty-first-century lens, I have wondered if these men were not physically intimate.  The words and images used to describe their relationship are passionate, ardent, concupiscent.  But reading about some of the homosocial behaviors Quinn describes has convinced me that David and Jonathan were not gay.  I agree with Quinn that too many Americans find homosociality frightening. Some of my returned-missionary friends have spoken with embarrassment of the strong male bonding they experienced on their missions.  They recall vivid episodes involving platonic intimacy — walking arm-in-arm, embracing, and other emotional and physical affection.  We are suspicious and uncomfortable with these things in our modern paradigm.  But homosociality can be an enlightening concept to consider.  I’m glad this relationship is included among all of the other unusual associations described in the Old Testament!

BONUS: The woodcut of Jonathan and David pictured below may be astonishingly evocative, both to LDS members endowed before 1990 and to those familiar with Masonic ritual.

]]> http://mormonmatters.org/2010/06/17/homosociality-and-the-friendship-between-david-and-jonathan/feed/ 22 http://mormonmatters.org/2010/06/12/choice-seer-spokesman-and-scribe/ http://mormonmatters.org/2010/06/12/choice-seer-spokesman-and-scribe/#comments Sat, 12 Jun 2010 21:00:06 +0000 guest http://mormonmatters.org/?p=11531 Guest Post by Christopher C. Smith

Chris has a BA from Fresno Pacific University in Biblical Studies, an MA from Wheaton College in History of Christianity, and is pursuing a PhD from Claremont Graduate University in Religions in North America. In the tradition of Jan Shipps, he is a non-Mormon with a particular focus on Mormon Studies and Joseph Smith.

The Book of Mormon records in 2 Nephi 3 a very interesting prophecy attributed to the biblical patriarch Joseph of Egypt, according to which a “choice seer” would be raised up from the fruit of Joseph’s loins in the latter days.  “And his name shall be called after me; and it shall be after the name of his father,” the patriarch announces.  Clearly Joseph Smith is in view.

An addendum to this prophecy adds an interesting additional promise. “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.”  The traditional Mormon view is that the “spokesman” of the prophecy is Sidney Rigdon (see for example George Q. Cannon’s remarks in JD 25:126).  This view is based on D&C 100:9–11, which proclaims that “it is expedient in me that you, my servant Sidney, should be a spokesman unto this people… I will give unto thee power to be mighty in expounding all scriptures, that thou mayest be a spokesman unto him.”  I would like to suggest, however, that a better candidate for the spokesman of the “choice seer” prophecy is Oliver Cowdery.

Note that whereas the D&C emphasizes Sidney’s preaching role, the prophecy itself emphasizes writing.  In fact, the roles of Smith and his spokesman are precisely the reverse of Moses and Aaron.  The prophecy says of Moses, “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.”  Whereas Moses needed a spokesman for speaking but not for writing, Joseph Smith evidently needed a spokesman for writing but not for speaking.  The reference to a rod is also suggestive.  Unlike Moses, Joseph Smith did not have “power in a rod.”  But if the roles of seer and spokesman are reversed, then we might surmise that his spokesman did.  And in fact, that is precisely what the D&C says of Oliver Cowdery.

Oliver Cowdery served as Joseph Smith’s principal scribe for the Book of Mormon and some early sections of the D&C.  Of all Smith’s associates, Cowdery was the most prominent in the early period.  D&C 28 specifically likens him to Aaron, and tasks him not only to write but also to “speak”, “preach”, and “declare faithfully the commandments and revelations” (D&C 28:3–8). Cowdery apparently sometimes made use of a divining rod, which the 1835 D&C describes as a “rod of Aaron”.  He even received revelations of his own (EMD 2:409; 1835 Pat. Blessing Book), and did much of the early preaching and baptizing.  But here’s the unambiguous kicker.  In Cowdery’s patriarchal blessing—given in 1835 by Joseph Smith, Jr. himself—there is a reference to “the prophecy of Joseph, in ancient days,” which pronounced blessings upon “the Seer of the last days and the Scribe that should sit with him.” Clearly the choice seer’s “Scribe” is here supposed to be Cowdery.

So what are we to do with the D&C’s application of the spokesman label to Sidney Rigdon?  Like Oliver, Sidney served as a spokesman for the prophet in both written and oral capacities.  Sidney had started as the prophet’s scribe.  In fact, when Joseph met Sidney in 1831, Sidney was specifically instructed to preach only “inasmuch as ye do not write [for the prophet]” (35:20–23). But by 1833 he had taken on a much larger role in the movement, and his role as “spokesman” was primarily a preaching and teaching role.  Clearly Sidney did serve as a spokesman for Joseph Smith.  But was he the spokesman of prophecy?

One possible reading of these sources is that by 1835 Joseph Smith had bifurcated the “spokesman” role of Joseph of Egypt’s prophecy into oral and written components, such that Rigdon was the “spokesman”, and an additional role of “Scribe” was created to accommodate the displaced Oliver Cowdery.  But there is another possible reading as well.  Perhaps the spokesman was never intended to be a single, unchangeable individual, but rather referred to a role or office that might be filled by multiple individuals simultaneously or in succession.  A capital “S” is used in the prophet’s journal when calling Warren Parrish his “Scribe”, as well, suggesting perhaps that he saw Parrish as filling the same eschatological role that just a few months prior had been assigned to Oliver Cowdery.  Smith in fact enlisted many talented scribes over the course of his life, selecting for the role some of the Church’s most talented and educated men.  He never felt constrained to limit himself to a single individual.  He had a whole cadre of spokesmen, some of whom moved in and out of the role as their fortunes and the Church’s changed.

I’m interested to hear how the commenters here at MM read this evidence.  How are we to reconcile D&C 100 with Cowdery’s patriarchal blessing?  Was the spokesman a person, or an office?  If it was a person, then who?  Cowdery?  Rigdon?  Or someone else entirely?

But, still, we live in 2010 and we are moving forward. Technology is a part of much of our lives. How much do we use it to supplement our faith?

A while back, a friend of mine on twitter invited me to work with her to write an article on the LDSTech Community, (or at least cover the Developers Conference they held earlier this year.) I was flattered to be asked to work in such a project. I also found myself extremely inadequate.

I ultimately decided to decline the invitation.

This article isn’t going to be a comprehensive coverage of anything like that [so, if you happen to be reading this, @NotSoPoetic, it's not like I stole your idea and went along without you .]

But recently, I’ve been thinking about that.

I am somewhat interested in technology. I dual-boot between Windows XP (yes, I understand that this operating system is…almost a decade old) and Linux Mint. I don’t necessarily collect, but I am very interested in smartphones and their OSes, keeping track of news about the new iOS 4, Blackberry OS 6, Android, webOS, Windows Phone 7 Series, and…you get the point?

But I am simply an enthusiast. I don’t program. I don’t develop. I consume and scrawl out some code in a terminal occasionally in order to troubleshoot.

So, from a technological standpoint, I obviously don’t think I can even scratch the surface of talking about the LDS Tech community…except from a standpoint of being a consumer.

Back when I had a Palm Pilot (and then when I moved to a Dell Axim x51v…and then when I moved on to…you get the point), I always wanted to find some kind of program so I could load up the scriptures with me. Back then, I guess I just wanted to do it because I could. (Maybe such is true now).

So when I downloaded the LDS Gospel Library to my Palm Pre, I guess I felt the spirit of old times’ sake. Of course, if you don’t already know, the LDS Gospel Library is available for all the major mobile platforms.

I guess I could give a review. But again, that’s not quite the point here (although I will say I am quite impressed with the app.) I’m really just trying to provide a framework for discussion.

Of course, since we are all here, then we know about blogging. But are we just readers? Are we commenters, or are we writers as well? And beyond blogs themselves, do we engage technology with our faith in any other ways? Twitter, anyone?

I’m just wondering…how much…and in what ways…does technology supplement and help your faith?

Ever since I was introduced to the word “liminal,” I have claimed it as my own. This word describes a threshold or a transitional position — a balancing point between two states of being. For many years I have felt poised on the threshold between two totally different ways of viewing the world. One is scientific and rational. The other is a place where angels materialize and shake your hand, where dreams have meaning, where God’s words come out of men’s mouths when they lay their hands on your head. Many members of the Church seem easily able to slip between both of these worlds. But I see a fundamental difference between the two world views. In the naturalistic view of the universe, events do not violate natural laws and are subject to the principles of empirical investigation. In the mystical view, divine intervention is possible outside of natural law.

Striving to make sense of my world has been like trying to ride two donkeys with one ass. I often feel quite schizophrenic for even making the attempt. I do it because I feel like both paradigms are equally valid and I can’t imagine jumping off on one side or the other and excising a vital part of my being. But living a double life makes me feel uncomfortable around everyone. For example, when I am with a certain group of Mormons I can’t fathom why they don’t realize that the founder of their Church took the temple ceremony largely from Masonry, a tradition whose roots are not as ancient as some suppose. Then when I am with another group of my LDS friends I feel equally out of place because I recognize some sort of cosmic connection to the Infinite which occurs at these mystical points of ascent.

Liminality in my life is reading the RS/PH handbook at home and critiquing it from a secular/humanist perspective; then later in Church giving that same lesson from a mystical worldview, and feeling some Greater Power assisting me to articulate the principles. Afterwards I feel dizzy and disoriented. Am I leading people astray? Was that a real experience or just my emotions or hormones coming into play?

This week’s SS lesson is centered around the heart; and the story of Saul, Israel’s proto-monarch, is a perfect place to start for someone who is not quite sure of the state of hers.

To begin with, it is possible that in the course of Biblical transmission, Saul’s birth narrative was dispossessed by another. Biblical scholars have noted that the wordplay in 1 Samuel 1 works best when applied to Saul’s name, but this has been replaced by Samuel. In Hebrew, “Saul” can mean “petition,” “request,” or “thing given.” Thus verse 20 may have originally read:

And she named him Saul, saying, “Because I have ‘sauled’ him (requested him) from YHWH.

The etymology is carried through in verses 17, 20, 27, and 28. But for a variety of reasons, the birth narrative has been transferred to the prophet Samuel.  Was it Saul, rather than Samuel, who was dedicated to the Lord by his mother?  Was it Saul who was divinely appointed and raised?

The reader next encounters Saul in a narrative of spiritual rebirth. Saul is searching for lost donkeys, and ends up visiting Samuel. This prophet anoints Saul and tells him that the Lord’s Spirit shall come upon him, he shall prophesy, and he will be “turned into another man.” That day, “God gave him another heart.” The significance of this regeneration which seems so obvious when reading chapter 10 is actually hotly debated in Christian circles.

“Was Saul saved?” evangelicals wonder.  They point to later actions and speculate whether his heart had really been changed.  I confess that Saul’s actions at Gilgal seem defensible to me. The Lord had commanded that burnt offerings be made before going into battle. Saul had gathered his army and the Philistines were threatening. Saul waited the agreed-upon seven days for Samuel, but he didn’t show. The Israelite army was beginning to scatter. So Saul went ahead and performed the sacrifice. What a conundrum he faced! Should he wait for Samuel, and lose his army? Should he go into battle without performing the sacrifice? Or should he offer the sacrifice himself, without the necessary authority? Doubtless I would have made the same choice Saul did. But we are told that his heart was in the wrong place — that “obedience is better than sacrifice” — and that at this point his kingdom was lost and given to another.

This was a pivotal moment for Saul, and through the rest of his life he wavered between acts of anger and rebellion, and heartfelt repentance. The mental distress he experienced is anguishing.

Saul strikes me as a man trying to ride two donkeys, and I have the greatest compassion for him.  I’d like to end this post with a poem by John Donne which I can envision coming from my mouth, and from Saul’s.  It’s a  lament from a soul which recognizes the pull of the profane and natural man, yet longs for a mystical union with the Divine.

Holy Sonnet XIV

Batter my heart, three person’d God; for, you

As yet but knocke, breathe, shine, and seeke to mend;

That I may rise, and stand, o’erthrow mee,’and bend

Your force, to breake, blowe, burn and make me new.

I, like an usurpt towne, to’another due,

Labour to’admit you, but Oh, to no end,

Reason your viceroy in mee, mee should defend,

But is captiv’d, and proves weake or untrue.

Yet dearely’I love you,’and would be loved faine,

But am betroth’d unto your enemie:

Divorce mee,’untie, or breake that knot againe;

Take mee to you, imprison mee, for I

Except you’enthrall mee, never shall be free,

Nor ever chast, except you ravish mee.

When we lived in Saudi Arabia a few years ago, I obtained a faculty position in the fairly newly-formed department of Health and P.E. at a university which was strictly segregated by gender.  The women’s side of the university operated independently, with our own female custodians, technical staff, professors and administration,  and very little oversight from the male president.  Our department consisted of five women, and we made all decisions collectively, with no titular head.  After the first semester I was there, one of our staff meetings was dedicated to the question of whether we should have a department head.  Being the newest addition to the faculty, I had little say in this decision, but I did bring up the point that we had successfully administrated the department jointly, and I questioned the necessity of one department head.  It would completely change the group dynamics that we had experienced as a body of women removed from a patriarchal hierarchy and which I very much enjoyed.  The reply from all of the rest of the women, though there had been no problems thus far, was that “you HAVE to have a leader,” that one person MUST be in charge of any organization.

At the time I was struck by how much this assertion resembled the one I have heard from many Mormons justifying the hierarchical, patriarchal system in place in the Church, both within the institution and within our individual families.  The argument seems to be that harmonious resolution of difficulties is impossible without one leader to make final decisions.  I am not entirely sure I agree that no other model beside the “one-leader rule,” or what I will here call the “kingship” model is viable in administrating a successful community.

The kingship model of administration appears to have been particularly desirable throughout history.  It seems obvious that strong personality types would desire to set up a system of governance where they were in charge of making all the decisions.  But the scriptural record and our OT SS Lesson #21 show that groups of people also wish to configure their communities under the supervision of a king.  1 Samuel 8 recounts the story of the Israelite people, dissatisfied with judges and prophets, clamoring for Samuel to get them a king.  Their reasoning is found in verse 20: they want to be like the other nations, they want one strong leader to judge them, and they desire to be under the protection of a military commander who will lead them in battle.

Passages in the Book of Mormon also describe this desire of the general population to set up a monarchy.  In Mosiah 23 the people want Alma to be their king because of their great admiration for him.  In 3 Ne 7 a league of tribes attempt to establish a kingship in order to overthrow the tribal system of government then operating.  In Alma 51 there is also an attempt to overthrow the current leadership and inculcate a kingship, inspired in part by pride and aspirations to nobility.  In each case in the scriptures where there is a desire to crown a king, it is denounced as contrary to the ideals of freedom.  Several reasons are given in these passages as to why kingship is considered malapropos:

• It is a rejection of divine rule in favor of human rule (1 Sam 8:7)
• A king would allocate human and natural resources to his own advantage (1 Sam 8:11-17)
• One man should not think of himself as being above another; kingship gives those of high birth unfair power and authority (Mosiah 23:7; Alma 51:8)
• Not all kings can be trusted to be just (Mosiah 23:8,13,14)
• A king can oppress people and lead them into iniquity (Mosiah 23:12)
• A monarchy is not a free government (Alma 51:6)

When someone has been disappointed and broken, it affects all of his or her relationships. A broken heart could just be the cause of that cutting remark someone made to you, or even the rude gesture someone made out of a car window.  There’s a passage in the Old Testament that really comforts me when I am feeling the weight of loneliness and sorrow that sometimes comes over me.  It also comes to mind when I’m wondering how I can possibly make a difference in someone’s life who is hurting so badly.  Here’s my poetic interpretation of Isaiah 61:1-3:

He hath sent me to bind up the broken,
To cry to the captives: Behold, ye are free!
‘Tis the year of Jehovah’s good graces
Then eyes that are fettered, at last they shall see.
Day of our God’s just avenging:
All mourners in Zion shall comforted be.

I shall give to them beauty for ashes,
The oil of rejoicing in place of pain,
The garment of praise for sad spirit;
That strong trees of righteousness they might remain.
Oaks of Jehovah’s own planting,
That ever may be for His glory and gain!
(BiV’s Isaiah 61:1-3)

In the Garden of Eden narrative, we are taught that there is an opposite to everything.  Joy and sorrow are opposites, so are pleasure and pain. When Adam and Eve partook of the fruit of the tree of knowledge of good and evil, their eyes were opened and they were able to experience all of these things.  In the Isaiah passage above, it speaks of eyes being opened through the experiencing of some of these opposites: beauty/ashes, rejoicing/pain, praise/sadness.  These figures show us the value of living in a world where suffering exists.  A broken heart opens us to insights that we wouldn’t be able to see without it.

The Messiah figure in this passage also opens us up to embrace dependence.  I think humans have a tendency to adulate self-reliance.  With this comes pride and even solitude.  As we become more open to dependence — on Divine guidance, on a Savior and on each other, we learn love and community.  These are things which can heal the brokenness that is a part of living in a fallen world.  Isaiah 61 is a Messianic prophecy which teaches of a Savior who is sent forth by God’s spirit to replace pain with rejoicing, to give beauty for ashes.  But it also teaches us that we can go forth in the same spirit to bind up the broken.

I heard a story about a young man who proclaimed to have the most beautiful, flawless heart. As the crowd watched, he bared his chest to show a shining, golden, perfectly shaped heart.  Then an old man challenged him.  He came forward to show the crowd what his heart looked like.  It was beating strongly, but was misshapen and full of holes and scars.  It appeared that some pieces had been removed and others had been put in, but didn’t fit quite right. The old man looked at the young man, “I would never trade my heart for yours. Every scar represents a person I’ve given my love — I tear out a piece and give it to them. Sometimes they give me a piece of their broken heart, which I fit along jagged edges. When the person doesn’t return my love, a painful gouge is left. Those gouges stay open, reminding me that I love these people too. Perhaps someday they will return and fill that space.”

Over the years, my heart has come to resemble that old man’s.  What a Messiah means to me is recognizing this connectedness and interdependence.  It is knowing I am not as complete with a golden flawless heart that has never felt the great wrenchings.  It is opening myself to love and sorrow and rejection and recognizing that I can’t do it all on my own.  And then it is doing my best to give others a piece of my heart to help heal theirs.

Whenever I come across an odd story in the Old Testament, I feel compelled pull it apart and try to make some sense out of it. Why is it there? Does it have some symbolic meaning of which we are unaware? Are we misinterpreting crucial aspects? Would it make more sense within the cultural milieu? Such is the story of this lesser-known Biblical judge.

This strange little story begins with an “unlikely hero,” Jephthah, the son of a prostitute. He was taken into his father’s family and raised there, but after the death of his father the legitimate children forced him to leave. He made some reputation for himself among a band of “vain men,” so that when his countrymen needed help against the Ammonites, they came to him. Jephthah agreed to captain an army against Ammon, in return for being named their titular head. His first military action was an attempt to negotiate with the enemy. When that did not work, he gathered together the men of Israel. The Spirit of the Lord came upon Jephthah, and he went forth to battle, making a interesting vow to the Lord. If the Lord would help him win the battle, he would dedicate to the Lord and offer up for a burnt offering whatever should come forth from the doors of his house to meet him when he returned.

After a successful conquest, Jephthah returned home and was greeted by his daughter, his only child. That she was a precious and only child is pointed up by the fact that the judges immediately before and after him were Jair (who had thirty sons who rode on thirty ass colts), and Ibzan (who had thirty sons and thirty daughters). The number of children is the only fact we are told about these two judges, making it very likely that they are there solely for the reason of emphasizing Jephthah’ only begotten child. But she was a female.

Not only was human sacrifice forbidden by the Lord, (Deut. 18:10), but burnt offerings were to be firstborn males (Lev. 1:3). Nevertheless, Jephthah had made a vow, and intended to keep it. His daughter acquiesced, asking only for two months time to go up to the mountains with some friends and “bewail her virginity.” At the end of the two months, she returned to her father, and he “did with her according to his vow which he had vowed, and she knew no man.” Thereafter it became a custom for the daughters of Israel to go up four days in a year to lament the fate of the daughter of Jephthah.

The tradition of Biblical scholars is to interpret this vow of Jephthah’s as an impetuous and evil action which had disastrous consequences. That Latter-day Saints have followed in this tradition is clear from the chapter heading of Judges 11: “He makes a rash vow which leads to sacrifice of his only daughter.”

This interpretation is problematic for at least two reasons. First, if this was a “rash vow,” why would the Lord be given credit for bringing about the victory of Jephthah’s army? In the Book of Judges, the people are punished with captivity and defeat when they forsake the Lord. Second, why would Jephthah make such a vow? Did he think perhaps an animal would be the first out the door to greet him? (In ancient Israel the animals were sometimes kept in the house.) What if the animal was an unclean one, such as a dog? To offer up such a sacrifice would be a great affront. But perhaps the greatest problem Biblical scholars face in the exegesis of this passage is the inclusion of Jephthah in Hebrews 11 — the “faith chapter.” Here Jephthah is included along with the great heroes of the Old Testament in obtaining “a good report through faith.”

I rather favor an interpretation that became popular in medieval times and has been revived recently — that Jephthah was promising only to dedicate his daughter to the Lord and not to kill her. This would parallel Jephthah’s daughter more to Samson and to Samuel than to Abraham’s sacrifice of Isaac. But it would preserve the Messianic shadowing. Several points make this interpretation possible:

1. The Hebrew “vav” usually translated “and” may also be translated as “or” rendering the reading in Judges 11:31: “whatsoever cometh forth…to meet me…shall surely be the Lord’s, or I will offer it up as a burnt offering.” Thus Jephthah’s method of sacrifice would depend upon what came forth out of his door.
2. The daughter departed into the mountains to “bewail her virginity,” not her death. It is possible that she was being offered to some type of temple service which would necessitate her remaining unwed for the rest of her life. Note verse 39 which says that Jephthah kept “his vow which he had vowed: and she knew no man.” This last clause would seem awkward and unnecessary if she were being put to death.
3. Certain Hebrew scholars believe that for as long as she lived, the virgins of Israel went at different times, each for four days in the year, to provide comfort and encouragement to the daughter of Jephthah at the tent of meeting. This custom must have ended at her death, since there is no further reference to it in scripture or Jewish history.

You see that it is possible to fit this story quite nicely into our Latter-day Saint canon. Faithful Jephthah makes a promise to the Lord, and keeps his promise. Faithful Jephthah’s daughter yields herself to her father’s vow and becomes a type of Christ.  Handel uses a variation of this interpretation in his oratorio, Jephtha.  I’ll share with you a lovely aria from the oratorio below.  Here Jeptha is reconciled to the blood sacrifice of his daughter, and sings “Waft her, angels, through the skies,” before learning that her death is not required, and she shall instead be dedicated to God in a pure and virgin state for the rest of her life.

The story doesn’t fit quite so nicely into feminist thought, however…or does it? What was the name of this intriguing daughter? What was she like? Didn’t she deserve to make her own decisions? Why must her life be subject to her father’s vow? Here’s the other side of the question: if Samuel and Isaac were obedient to the vows of their parents, isn’t it equal treatment for a young woman in the scriptures to show the same dedication? Is submission not a principle that Christ modeled, and which males and females must all learn? In my search for spiritual submission, is it helpful to have a female role model? Or would this simply reinforce unrighteous patriarchal domination which tends to crop up in religious settings? Can it be possible to spin this story into a celebration of a strong woman character who makes her own decisions and chooses on her own to follow the Lord? And what of my own life? Is it conceivable to view the submission I have promised in the temple as a glorious principle even though the submission my husband covenants is to God, and mine is to a mere mortal? Is the surrender I give freely in this holy place simply that required of all Christian disciples? Or does God require of women an additional offering? Does Jephthah’s daughter hold the key? Am I to become a daughter on the pyre? I’m still wondering.

The advantage of blogging the SS lessons instead of teaching them is that I get to cover the chapters that are totally skipped by correlation. (This one [Joshua 5] probably for good reason, but it deserves a mention SOMEWHERE.)

Everyone knows that good Jews are circumcised. God instituted the covenant with Abraham, and faithful Jews have been performing this ordinance on their 8-day-old males ever since, right?

WRONG!

Immediately after Israel crossed the Jordan into the Promised Land under their new leader, Joshua, they were given a commandment. They were told to again circumcise the entire company of the children of Israel.  This was necessary because none of the people who were born during the 40 years in the wilderness had been circumcised.  All the males who left Egypt over the age of 20 had been circumcised but had died in the wilderness.  Joshua circumcised their children, whom Jehovah had raised up in their place. They stayed at the Hill of Foreskins a while to heal.  God told Joshua, “Today I have rolled away (galal) the reproach of Egypt from you” and thus the place was called Gilgal. Gilgal means “heap of stones” or “stone circle”; it sounds similar to galal (“to roll away”).

Given that circumcision was commanded in the Torah, and also a necessary prerequisite to participation in the Passover celebration, why weren’t the Israelites circumcised during that 40-year period?  I think the answer has to do with Moses’ attitude toward circumcision.

Though Moses was born into an Israelite family, it is not certain that he was ever circumcised as a baby.  At least, it is not included in his birth narrative in the scriptural record.  To correct this oversight, some commentators have even tried to assert that Moses was “born circumcised.”  Whether or not this is true, we know that his sons did not inherit this genetic trait!  After marrying and having two sons in the land of Midian, Moses went back to Egypt with his wife and children.  We read about this incident in Exodus 4:18-26:

And Moses went and returned to Jethro his father in law, and said unto him, Let me go, I pray thee, and return unto my brethren which are in Egypt, and see whether they be yet alive. And Jethro said to Moses, Go in peace.  And the Lord said unto Moses in Midian, Go, return into Egypt: for all the men are dead which sought thy life.  And Moses took his wife and his sons, and set them upon an ass, and he returned to the land of Egypt…

And it came to pass by the way in the inn, that the Lord met him, and sought to kill him.  Then Zipporah took a sharp stone, and cut off the foreskin of her son, and cast it at his feet, and said, Surely a bloody husband art thou to me.  So he let him go: then she said, A bloody husband thou art, because of the circumcision.

It appears that Moses and his wife recognized that the Lord was preventing Moses from proceeding because one of his sons had not been circumcised.  We can speculate that Moses circumcised his firstborn son at the proper age, and that Zipporah was appalled at the bloody act.  Perhaps that was why they decided not to circumcise the other son.  When the Lord chose Moses to lead the nation of Israel out of the land of Egypt, it was necessary that he make a decision: circumcise his son, or die!  Zipporah relented, but was not happy about it.  I think that this incident made Moses very conflicted about the practice of circumcision.  He himself may even have been circumcised later in life, a painful experience!  No wonder he was not strict about making sure the nation of Israel complied with this ordinance while in the wilderness.  But when Moses died and the new generation entered Canaan, a ritual was enacted as a type of the plan of salvation.

Tony Badillo explains the symbolism of the events which took place at the crossing of the Jordan and at Gilgal.  A careful reading of Joshua 4:8-9 shows that twelve stones were taken out of the river and placed on the new land as a memorial, and twelve stones were also taken from the dry land and placed in the midst of the Jordan.  The twelve smooth, rounded river stones symbolized Israel circumcised, analogous to the smoothness of the male reproductive organ after circumcision; a new spiritual beginning in a new land.  The twelve rough stones taken from the dry land represented the uncircumcised male organ; placed in the Jordan to signify death to sin.

Reading these OT passages with our SS lesson gives us the opportunity to reflect on the rich symbolic meanings which lie behind the violent act of circumcision.  I tend to identify with Zipporah on this matter, shrinking from the bloody, brutal deed.  But in the latter-day we are asked to circumcise the foreskin of our hearts, removing our pride and exposing our tender, inner selves to the influence of the Spirit.  We have to be “strong and of a good courage” to do this!   It can be more painful and difficult even than the physical act of circumcision.  As Badillo puts it: “Outer circumcision of the flesh may be done by anyone skillfully using a knife; but inward circumcision of the heart can be done only by the Lord’s spirit , and it is this type circumcision (for subduing the sinful inclination ) that Joshua’s men received at the crossing of the Jordan.”

A worthy Sunday School lesson, even if it didn’t make the manual!

The story of Balak and Balaam is a study in the marvelous complexity and richness of Biblical literature.  The pericope includes five narrative sections, four poetic prophecies, and a fable (the tale of the angel and the ass).  It also includes commentaries found elsewhere in the scriptures.

When teaching this lesson in the past, I have started with the narrative sections, which contain the foundation of the story.  The first narrative, found in Numbers 22:1-21, tells of Balak, king of Moab, who becomes distressed because the Israelites have come out of Egypt in a mighty company and he is afraid of their military strength.  He wishes to drive them out of the land, so he seeks out and offers a reward to Balaam, a prophet, if he will lay a curse upon Israel.  Balaam first refuses, but then agrees to prophesy, warning Balak that he will only speak the words that Jehovah gives him to say.  It has been pointed out that very few people in the Bible are as confusing and contradicting as Balaam. As a result there are many views concerning him; was Balaam a true believer in God, a false, pagan prophet, or a back-slidden believer who succumbed to the temptations of life?  This first narrative yields a clue — Balaam refers to the Lord as “Jehovah my God.”  The fact that he uses the tetragrammaton here tells me that although Balaam is a non-Israelite from Pethor, he is intimately familiar with the Hebrew God.  This God speaks to him many times throughout the story.

Those of you who know your BiV will remember how impressed I am by a man who can quote scripture or recite poetry. So it won’t surprise you that I am head-over-heels in love with Balaam when he does both by the end of Chapter 23.  After the second narrative section, Numbers 22:36-23:6, in which Balaam builds seven altars [1] and offers sacrifice in the mountains overlooking the camp of Israel, God speaks to the prophet in the first of four of the most lovely examples of Hebrew poetry in the Old Testament.  Biblical Hebrew scholars will know what I mean, but for the rest, I have translated these prophecies into a poetic form English speakers will recognize. [2]

Balak, the king of Moab from the mountains of the East
Hath brought me from my country to perform a shameful deed:
Come and curse this Jacob, come hinder Israel.
But how shall I rebuke those upon whom God’s mercies dwell?
How can I smite the nation that Jehovah keepeth well?
From high atop the rocky cliff, I see this mighty fold,
From the hills above this place, their army I behold.
A people who shall stand apart and always live alone;
Among the nations’ reckoning, they scarcely shall be known.
But yet the dust of Jacob shall soon be too vast to count;
The tribes of Israel shall be in numbers that will mount.
O may my death be likewise, my rest an endless fount! (Numbers 23:7-10)

In the third narrative, Numbers 23:11-17, King Balak remonstrates with Balaam for blessing, rather than cursing Israel.  He takes the prophet to a smaller hill, where the view of the encroaching army is not so large or terrifying.  There Balaam again builds seven altars and offers sacrifice.  The prophecy comes as follows:

Arise, Balak, and listen; hear now, O Zippor’s son:
God is no man, no liar he, no human who must run.
What he hath spoken he’ll make good, his sayings shall be done;
He bids me bless, and once I bless, constrained, I call back none.
There is no sin in Jacob, no fault in Israel;
Jehovah God is with him, shouting for this King as well.

God brought them out of Egypt’s pox,
Like the lofty horns of a wild ox.
Jacob scorns the enchanter’s pow’r;
To Israel the diviners cower.

Behold this mighty people who now rise up as a lion
And eat the prey and drink the blood — What God hath wrought in Zion! (Numbers 23:18-24)

As expected, Balak is none too pleased with the second prophecy.  But he tries one more time to use Balaam’s power to his advantage.  This is not surprising, for there is evidence from outside the Bible record that Balaam was a well-known seer; a cursing prophet living in the environs of Deir Alla, Jordan. [3] In this fourth narrative, Numbers 23:25-24:2, Balaam is taken to an even less advantageous vantage point.  Altars are once again built, and sacrifices offered.  But this time, Balaam approaches God in a more humble spirit.  He goes, seeking not “nechashim” (translated in our KJV Bibles as “enchantments”).  We have encountered this word before — just a chapter before Balaam’s story begins. Nechashim are the serpents which afflicted the children of Israel in the wilderness, a brazen one of which Moses lifted up on a pole to symbolize the Savior.  These serpents are described as “seraphim,” translated variously as “fiery,” “poisonous,” or “enchanter.”  I like to interpret them as being symbolic of false gods, with Moses’ brazen serpent standing for the true Messiah. [4] This would mean that Balaam is turning from any false system of thought that might remain in his beliefs after communing with Jehovah, and striving for the truth.  And the word of the Lord comes to him again:

How goodly, Jacob, are thy tents,
And Israel’s dwellings, tribe by tribe:
As aloes green, as valleys wide,
As gardens by the riverside,
As cedars near the stream abide.

Water from thy branch shall flow,
Thy seed in many waters go;
Thy king be highest, and the best,
Thy kingdom ris’n above the rest!

God brought thee forth from Egypt’s scorn,
Just as the wild ox’s horn
To eat the nations, break their bones
And pierce them through with arrows honed.

Thou shalt couch down as a lioness,
And bless all those who call thee blessed,
And curse all those who fail the test. (Numbers 24:3-9)

A cursing at last!  But not upon Israel, rather, her enemies.  Following this prophecy, the narrative tells us (Numbers 24:10-14), Balak is furious.

“I was going to promote you to great honor,” he tells Balaam.  ”But now, forget it!”

Balak replies by making it abundantly clear that though the king might offer him a house full of silver and gold, he cannot go beyond the commandment of the Lord. And then he gives a final prophecy, for good measure, one he says concerns the latter days. This one turns out to be Messianic. Fifteen hundred years later, seers from the East will take these words seriously and use them to find a babe in an obscure location in Israel:

Balaam, the son of Beor am I –
I hear the words of the Most High,
I see his vision with mine eye,
Yea, I behold him, but not nigh.

A star from Jacob in the skies
From Israel, a scepter rise;
Smiting Moab’s corners ’round
And breaking Seth’s descendants down.

Edom, too, shall be possessed,
Seir, the adversaries, pressed –
Israel doeth this with zest.

From Jacob, One will have the rule,
And shall destroy the remnant cruel.
Amalek was first of all,
But in the end the great shall fall.

And Cain, though firm from every knock,
A nested one upon a rock
Nonetheless shall wasted be,
When Assyria comes for thee.

God appoints this: do not boast.
Ships shall sail from Kittim’s coast,
Afflict Assyria by ploy,
And Eber also shall destroy. (Numbers 24:15-24)

Now, you Sunday School teachers will have noticed that what I have written above gives a different interpretation than our Lesson Manual.  I find it curious that the indications we have that Balaam was not a completely righteous prophet come from later scriptures, namely the following:

• Num 31:8: Moses’ warriors slew Balaam
• Num 31:16: Balaam counseled the Midianites how to cause the Israelites to commit sin.
• Deut 23:3-6: The Lord turned Balaam’s curse into a blessing
• Josh 13:22: The Israelites slew Balaam, who was a soothsayer
• 2 Peter 2:15-16: Balaam loved unrighteousness, was rebuked for his sin when his ass forbad his madness.
• Jude 1:11: Woe unto those who run greedily after the error of Balaam for reward
• Rev 2:14: Balaam taught Balak to cast a stumbling block before the children of Israel, to eat things sacrificed unto idols, and to commit fornication.

There are additional passages which mention Balaam, but not in a condemnatory manner.  This leaves open the possibility that the Balaam pericope was initially quite positive.  Later attitudes toward toward Balaam may have changed when Israelite misfortunes at the hands of neighboring nations, with whom Balaam was identified, brought him into disrepute.

And NOW it is time to discuss the story of the angel and the ass.  (Did you think I’d forgotten?)

Many Biblical scholars conclude that the Tale of Balaam’s Ass is a distinct literary entity which derives from a separate source.  This fable is an adaptation of an originally independent folktale in a mode similar to ancient Near Eastern wisdom literature.  The Tale reflects the late, hostile evaluation of Balaam common to other Biblical passages. [5] As I read Numbers 22:21-35, it seems quite clear that this fable has a different purpose than the rest of the scripture block.  There is a sudden switch, from verse 20, where God tells Balaam to go with Balak’s men, to verse 22, when without explanation God’s anger is kindled against the prophet for taking the journey.  The story of an angel trying to prevent Balaam from proceeding seems extraneous to the story as a whole, whereas the speaking donkey lends a comical and fantastical air to what otherwise is a sober and spiritual message.

The student of the Bible must decide how the fable and the later Biblical verses referencing Balaam fit in with the primary passages.  Were these parts added as Balaam became associated with surrounding hostile nations?  Is this a more likely explanation than more conservative, traditional views that Balaam’s allegiances changed, or that found in the OT SS Manual that Balaam’s greed for wealth and lust for honor swayed him from his determined course?

As you have studied this prophet and poet, do you concur with Bruce R. McConkie, as quoted in our manual, that “Balaam, … inspired and mighty as he once was, lost his soul in the end because he set his heart on the things of this world rather than the riches of eternity”?

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[1] Look up the symbolism of the Hebrew number seven!

[2] Hebrew poetry doesn’t use rhyme, but uses other techniques readily recognizable as poetry, such as parallelism. Here I have used meter and rhyme to render the Hebrew poetry into English.

[3] In 1967 an ancient Aramaic text was found in Deir Alla, Jordan, dating to the time of the Biblical Balaam. The text begins with the title “Warnings from the Book of Balaam the son of Beor. He was a seer of the gods.” Much of the document describes curses uttered by this prophet.

[4] The Hebrew word “nachash” is used as an adjective (bright, brazen) and as a noun (serpent, hiss, enchantment) I also like to think of the “nachash” in the Garden of Eden as a wordplay using all the meanings in the semantic range of this word: an enchanter, deceiver, or false god, who was shining or serpentine in appearance.

[5] see Jonathan D. Safren, “Balaam and Abraham,” in Vestus Testamentum XXXVIII, 1, 1988.

Sometimes I have a hard time with the Jehovah of the Old Testament. I’m not always sure how much of the anger, retribution, and striking people dead for their sins came from Him, or from the interpretation of His will by the designated prophet.

Take the Golden Calf story in Exodus 32, covered in SS Lesson #14. When Moses came down from Mt. Sinai with the stone tablets in his hands and saw the people singing, dancing, and playing, he had a big fit. He threw the tablets down on the ground and broke them. He burnt the golden calf they had made and killed three thousand men. According to Joseph Smith, there went the ancient Hebrews’ chance to have the ordinances of the Melchizedek Priesthood!

I wonder what would have happened if Moses had been a little less vindictive on God’s behalf. I attempt to explore this scenario in the following poem:

Your Golden Calf — And Mine

With justice stern,
No Moses, I –
Descending from Mt. Sinai to decimate your golden calf.
I’m not a prophet, sir, I laugh!
But… tell me of your God, instead,
This gold you’ve shaped,
Your wine and bread.
How have you built it?
What appeals to you?
What myst’ries it reveals?
Perhaps I’ll tell you of my climb up Sinai,
How I saw divine phalanges shining in the sun,
The glory of an Holy One.
In safe discourse you’ll have me see
The glorious opportunity your idol sends,
To sing, to dance!
While I, thus taught, have equal chance.
This fraternal state we’re in tells you licentiousness and sin
Is not the best way (generally) to show
Religious ecstasy.
Unveiled: my God, an image too –
A mirror of my heart,
A true reflection of the judgment there.
If we’ll but fall in prostrate prayer,
Each others’ hearts will bleed to view –
The sacred within me and you.

Do you think it was necessary for the Old Testament Jehovah to strike so many people dead for their sins? The idolaters, the disobedient, the complainers, even the people who dwelt in the land of Canaan before the Israelites? Why was it important then, and why doesn’t God kill the covenant people who are disobedient today? How much of the violence of the Old Testament came from God, and how much can be attributed to the excesses of people who were acting in His name? Did Moses shape a “golden calf” too?

Seeing that ‘the importance of discerning correctly that which is figurative and that which is literal would be hard to overstate’ [p. 133] we might expect that the insights that Bro. McConkie will offer would reflect this seriousness. Yet his answers seem facile and ill-thought out. For example, his first insight into working through this dilemma is that often ‘the scriptures provide the answer’ [p. 134]. Following this he then explain that Adam was clearly born (literally) because of the scripture in Moses 6:59 (Adam is described as being ‘born’ in this verse).

His second insight is that sometimes ‘things spoken of in the scriptures are both figurative and literal’ [p. 134]. What is confusing here for me is that he argues that sometimes symbols are used in the middle of real stories, for example in the Garden of Eden. However, what those symbolic aspects are is less clear. Certainly Pres. Kimball’s declaration that the Eve-Adam-Rib story was figurative would be one example of what McConkie is discussing here. Yet, Pres. Kimball’s remark assumes a particular understanding of the Garden of Eden narrative to make that argument (i.e. that the story is literal and that they were born). Why is this reading any less literal than the born passage? Could the rib be literal and the reference to born be figurative?

His third insight is the most troubling for me. He writes that, ‘When scripture provides no clear answer by which we can discern what is figurative and what is literal, we are reduced to our own good sense and wisdom’. He continues ‘This… may well be quite deliberate, for it creates an opportunity for [God] to get a measure of our judgement, spiritual maturity and spiritual integrity’ [p. 135]. Really! ‘Figure it out for yourself’! That’s your key to discerning between what is literal and figurative. However, what is more perplexing is the implication of McConkie’s discourse.

By invoking issues that relate interpretation to spiritual maturity McConkie is creating an implicit ‘orthodoxy’ which places the reader in a position of spiritual uncertainty regarding their position with God. This is surely spiritually destructive. To encourage individuals to read the scriptures in a way that is reflective of their spiritual standing is to place them in a situation of tension of with God. For if their interpretation is wrong then they are not ‘saved’ and are in need of repentance. Moreover it allows those who are in authority to question worthiness upon the basis of differing interpretations. I believe that if we are to benefit from the scriptures, i.e. if they are to draw us God, then placing the individual into a spiritual uncertain situation while engaging with the texts is spiritually unproductive.

A recent post by SteveP, at BCC, argues that there is a temptation to approach the scriptures literally when they were not intended to be read in that particular way. I think this is fundamentally correct, however, I am convinced that there is a tendency within such arguments to find those who derive spirituality through a literalistic approach to the scriptures as incorrect or mis-informed. I am not arguing that SteveP would advocate this but rather that I have seen some who do. In one sense this form of argument can be used just like McConkie’s but instead to defend a non-literal orthodoxy.

Though SteveP frames his debate within the context of the literal/figurative binary, his position is rooted to the idea that the scriptures are intended to help us related to God and to ‘spiritual’ truth. My contention is that perhaps the literal/figurative dichotomy is part of the liahona/iron-rod split. Applying Richard Poll’s analogy here is useful because it helps us see that Liahona (figurative?) and Iron-Rod (literal?) readers of the scriptures are not in competition and should learn more empathy for the other position.

I am not convinced that literal readings of the scripture do violence to the depth the scriptures have to offer (though I am concerned about how they view more figurative readers). Yet, I am convinced that they do violence to the depth’s that SteveP sees in the scriptures (and I admit that feel the same). For another person that literal reading might derive other depths that (perhaps) non-literal readers might miss. Each paradigm has its failings and flaws, just like Liahonas and Iron-rods.

I think that a better way, a more complex and certainly less clear way, of approaching the scriptures is with different lens of literalism. If we rather see the scriptures literally in a way that both groups can accept, i.e. the scriptures can literally help us to come to God, then perhaps both sides could be more willing to apply these different lens of literalism to the same story and deal with the challenges that each will bring. Though a non-literal reader by inclination I have felt the challenge of trying to reconcile a literalistic reading of certain OT passages. Though I do not feel bound by such a paradigm, trying to read them in that literal way has proved a spiritually productive venture. Moreover, I hope that I am still able to plumb the depths that a non-literal paradigm has often provided for me.

Whether dreams come from the unconscious mind or directly from God, they are valuable sources of revelation. Dreams can tell us important things about ourselves and our relationships that may remain veiled deep in the psyche if we are unskilled at interpreting the symbolic language from which they present. The great attainment of Joseph of Egypt and the message this scriptural character brings to readers of the Old Testament is the importance of developing an ability to decode symbolic dream messages and using them to integrate our conscious and subconscious knowledge.

Joseph had a huge, almost megalomaniac faith in his interpretations of dreams.  Early in his life he risked the rebuke and envy of his father and brothers to describe to them the images of the sheaves and the sun, moon, and stars bowing down to him.  Later, when interpreting the dreams of the chief butler and baker, he attributed his interpretations to God, even though he had no evidence this was so.  His own dreams seemed refuted — far from bowing to him, his brothers sold him into Egypt and he had been cast into prison.  His confidence reminds me of Joseph Smith’s great intrepidity regarding his own visions:

“For I had seen a vision; I knew it and I knew that God knew it, and I could not deny it…”

Joseph Smith once said, after reading Foxe’s Book of the Martyrs, that he had “seen those martyrs, and they were honest, devoted followers of Christ, according to the light they possessed, and they will be saved”  He also saw in vision marchers in Zion’s Camp who had perished from cholera in Clay County, Missouri. He encouraged the survivors of that endeavor, saying, “Brethren, I have seen those men who died of the cholera in our camp; and the Lord knows, if I get a mansion as bright as theirs, I ask no more” .  He foresaw the struggles of the Saints in crossing the plains, their establishment in the Rocky Mountains, and the future condition of the Saints.  Of these and many other spiritual manifestations he remarked, “It is my meditation all the day & more than my meat & drink to know how I shall make the saints of God to comprehend the visions that roll like an overflowing surge, before my mind.”

Joseph of Egypt had this same certainty regarding communications from God through the medium of dreams.  When finally brought before Pharoah, he reiterated his assertion that certain dreams are communications from the Divine:

“And for that the dream was doubled unto Pharoah twice; it is because the thing is established by God, and God will shortly bring it to pass.”

This assurance seems incredible when taken into account that his own early dream had also been repeated twice but not yet brought to pass.

Today we have varying degrees of confidence in the interpretation of our own spiritual experiences.  Some are unimpressed by the fleeting images that pass through their minds in a somnolent state.  But others become adept at the language of symbolism.  They confidently assign meanings to everything from dreams to emotional impressions, and use these to order their actions and their lives.  Psychologists have noted that people tend to dream in images that are familiar to them in their culture.  For example, Native Americans may dream about the spirits of animals and the world of nature, Catholics envision the Virgin Mary, Mormons have visitations involving the temple and their dead ancestors.  This can facilitate dream interpretation, but it can also obscure it, because the images are so familiar that we don’t look deeply at the meaning behind the symbol.  In our modern world, we have emphasized the logical mind so much that we have lost the sensitivity to understand primal and pictoral forms and symbols, even those with which we are well-versed.

Often our lesson manuals apply the scriptural stories to the modern audience, as was done in Lesson 11.  Here Joseph’s rejection of Potiphar’s wife is presented as an example for the righteous member to follow in avoiding moral transgression.  I am curious why, in Lesson 12, although Joseph’s dreams play a prominent part in the lesson material, the class member is not encouraged to become more adept in interpreting dreams and visions or even to pay closer attention to unconscious symbolic messages.  Moving away from the esoteric, the manual broadly associates the scriptural passage in Genesis 40-41 with “talents,” and asks:

How can we give proper acknowledgment to the Lord for our talents and gifts? (We can use them to glorify God and bless others, not for our own glory.)

In the early days of the Church Joseph Smith reprimanded some of the members for using messages from their dreams and visions improperly.  Do we fear this will happen if we freely encourage the widespread scrutiny of these types of unconscious messages?  What does this tell us about our confidence in recognizing inspiration from the Divine?

Lesson 11 in the Old Testament manual employs several stories from Genesis 34-39 to develop the theme of sexual morality. Joseph’s actions embody the “Lord’s standards” for morality and are contrasted with the actions of Shechem, Reuben, and Judah. You may notice that the featured characters in the lesson are all male. What shall a woman do with a lesson like this? I think the idea is for women to identify with Joseph — to be virtuous when facing temptation. But Joseph is a man, his responses are male-oriented, and intentionally or not this approach will tend to render the women in your Sunday School classroom invisible.  Consideration of the female archetypes found within these chapters may yield some surprising insights.

As feminists might point out, a patriarchal “virgin/whore” stereotype divides and traps women on one side or the other.  Yet this is how our lesson is developed with regard to the female characters.  Joseph’s encounter with the wife of Potiphar introduces us to “The Whore.”  This nameless woman casts her eyes upon Joseph, and day after day entreats him to lie with her.  In a final, dramatic scene, she grabs his clothing and tears it from his body as he pulls away from her and runs off.  Then she lies and accuses him of trying to rape her.

In the next scriptural passage the lesson covers, we meet Dinah, “The Virgin.”  As with most archetypal women figures, Dinah is shadowed and one-dimensional.  She is described as a daughter and a sister to be protected and avenged by her father and brothers. She is “defiled” by Shechem, a young man of highborn status from a neighboring town.  We are not told how she feels about this lover, whose “soul clave unto [her]” and who desired to marry her.  The lesson material tells us that Shechem did not truly love Dinah, or else he would not have defiled her.  However, Genesis 34 describes his offer to pay any amount for a dowry, and his willingness to join with her people, submit to circumcision, and convince all of the men in his town to do the same. In my eyes he is a tragic and romantic figure.  I wish there was more information available about Dinah’s response to this man. But the lack of detail is necessary to preserve the asexual, archetypal element of the deflowered virgin in the story.

Perhaps it is an unconscious arrangement for the writers of this lesson to have placed these two bilateral female archetypes side by side in the lesson material, but if so, it is all the more significant.  Archetypes are elementary ideas stemming from the unconscious.  The danger in including only these two women in the lesson is that they are both powerless.  Dinah the virgin is a victim of a powerful male, and Mrs. Potiphar the whore is also rendered powerless by the virtuous Joseph who rejects her advances.  Males in the stories are shown as individuals with the ability and strength to choose and control their sexual and moral options.

One might feel constrained by the material on women available in the scriptures, however, there exists within these passages a third woman who might prove to be a foil to our figurative virgin and whore.  Let us examine the lessons taught by the actions of Tamar in Genesis 38.  Tamar is conspicuously left out of the lesson manual, though this chapter is included as part of the scripture block. Judah’s actions are briefly contrasted with the faithfulness of Joseph.  Going back to the scripture passage, we read that Judah chose Tamar to be the wife of his eldest son, Er.  When Er died, custom dictated that the next son, Onan would marry her and provide her with children.  Onan’s refusal to properly execute his responsibility resulted in his death, and the next son, Shelah, was not old enough to marry.  Judah told Tamar to go and live with her parents until Shelah was grown, and then promptly forgot or ignored the family’s responsibilities to the widow.  Several years later, Tamar conceived a plan to remind Judah of these things.

Deuteronomy 25: 5-10 shows that the law was on her side, and Tamar could have reported Judah to the authorities, legally loosened Judah’s shoe, and spit in his face.  But she was smarter than that.  In contrast to the other women acknowledged in the lesson, Tamar deliberately used her sexuality to affect her destiny.  Despite the fact that she lived in a culture where women had little power or choice over their own circumstances, she seized her opportunities and was rewarded for so doing.  If we reduce this gospel lesson down to following or not following a strict standard of sexual morality, we miss the potent, powerful, and purposeful choice of Tamar to initiate sex with her father-in-law.  This choice is presented in the scriptures as a faithful action.  The nuance and meaning of the word “righteous” as Judah uses it to describe Tamar is very significant in understanding whether her actions were justified. The Hebrew word used is tsadaq, “to be just or righteous.” This word and its derivatives are used hundreds of times throughout the Old Testament. It is used to describe the righteousness of Noah (Gen. 7:1), the Law (Deu. 4:8), David (1 Sam. 24:17), and even Jehovah (2 Chr. 12:6). The meaning is thus: correct, right before God, or justified, in a very strong sense of the word righteous. Tamar was a woman of integrity who struck out in a creative though unorthodox way to fulfill her duty to herself and her family.  Her exploit resulted in twin sons, one of whom would continue the chosen lineage and become the progenitor of the Messiah.  Tamar is a complex human being and one of the few women in the scriptural record who is described in such a rich and nuanced manner.

What is more, the story of Tamar can be nicely dovetailed with a secondary message of Lesson 11, that class members “learn how to make all experiences and circumstances work together for their good.”  Surely Tamar deserves a prominent place in Lesson 11, wherever female members form part of the class population!  Don’t you agree?

Though it’s only an “additional teaching idea” in Lesson 12, Jacob’s ladder has captured my imagination due to some conversations I’ve recently had with Christian evangelicals.

The theme of the ladder to heaven is often used by the Early Church Fathers. Their interpretations of Jacob’s symbolic dream in Genesis 28 are similar to those made by Mormon General Authorities. In the 2nd century, Saint Irenaeus described the Christian Church as the ladder of ascent to God. In the 3rd century Origen explained that there are two ladders in the Christian life; one of which is the ladder that the soul climbs on the earth increasing the virtues. In the 4th century Saint Gregory of Nazianzus spoke of ascending Jacob’s Ladder by successive steps towards excellence, interpreting thus the ladder as an ascetic path, while Saint Gregory of Nyssa wrote that Moses climbed on Jacob’s Ladder to reach the heavens where he entered the tabernacle not made with hands, thus giving to the Ladder a clear mystical meaning. The ascetic interpretation is found also in Saint John Chrysostom who wrote:

“And so mounting as it were by steps, let us get to heaven by a Jacob’s ladder. For the ladder seems to me to signify in a riddle by that vision the gradual ascent by means of virtue, by which it is possible for us to ascend from earth to heaven, not using material steps, but improvement and correction of manners.”

The account of Jacob’s Ladder as an analogy for the spiritual ascetic of life is again found in the classical work Ladder of Divine Ascent by St. John Climacus. The ladder in Jacob’s dream represented a symbolic journey where each of the rungs suggest the steps needed to move upward. Man must climb up one level at a time as he participates in the saving principles and ordinances of the gospel offered by the Lord, who stands at the top. Notice how similar this description is to the quote by Marion G. Romney found in our lesson:

“Jacob realized that the covenants he made with the Lord … were the rungs on the ladder that he himself would have to climb in order to obtain the promised blessings—blessings that would entitle him to enter heaven and associate with the Lord” (“Temples—The Gates to Heaven,” Ensign, Mar. 1971, 16).

***
Later Christian interpretation of Jacob’s ladder is quite different than the early Church fathers, and demonstrates the dichotomy of thought between evangelicals and Mormons on the faith and works issue. In this exegesis, Jesus is seen as being the reality to which the ladder points in that he bridges the gap between heaven and earth. According to Martin Luther, Jacob’s vision of the ladder represented the incarnation of Christ. In the Gospel of John 1:51 there is a clear reference to Jacob’s dream pointing towards Jesus Christ, referred to by his title of the Son of Man:

And he saith unto him, Verily, verily, I say unto you, Hereafter ye shall see heaven open, and the angels of God ascending and descending upon the Son of man.

Adam Clarke, an early 19th century Methodist theologian and Bible scholar, elaborated upon this verse:

“That by the angels of God ascending and descending, is to be understood, that a perpetual intercourse should now be opened between heaven and earth, through the medium of Christ, who was God manifested in the flesh. Our blessed Lord is represented in his mediatorial capacity as the ambassador of God to men; and the angels ascending and descending upon the Son of Man, is a metaphor taken from the custom of dispatching couriers or messengers from the prince to his ambassador in a foreign court, and from the ambassador back to the prince.”

In this one Biblical symbol we find differing schools of thought over the issue of salvation: One group views the ladder as a way to reach heaven based on their own actions of improvement and obedience to covenants and ordinances. The other group has access to heaven based on the provisions of God through the Mediator, Jesus Christ, who came to earth and became that ladder or stairway for the sinner to reconnect the relationship with God.

In pondering this issue in the past, I have lamented that such a rift exists between our two faith traditions. It often seems to me that we are closer than we think, and that grace and works are both important. Mormons, I explain, emphasize works so much because we fear that if we don’t, the sinner might lapse into laziness or indifference. Christians emphasize the grace aspect of the equation so that no one will mistakenly trust in legalism rather than the Savior for their salvation. Isn’t the truth a balance between Paul and James? However, the evangelicals have labored hard to convince me that salvation must be accepted upon grace alone. Lately I’ve been pondering why I am reluctant to join them in their assurance. I’ve accepted Christ as my Savior, and it certainly would be a lot easier not to worry so much about whether I was paying my tithing, going to the temple regularly, or doing my visiting teaching. But here’s what holds me back: if Jesus offers me the grace they describe, then I’ll be OK whether I’m doing my works or not. But if the Mormon view turns out to be the more accurate description of the will of God for us, I need to be trying my hardest to do all of those works which are in my power.

Am I living my life based on fear rather than faith? Maybe. Will it count against me in the end?  I don’t see how it could.

What’s your take on Jacob’s ladder? Do we walk up, or does God descend to meet us where we are? Can this scriptural metaphor be of any help to us in our faith journey?

No one in the history of Mormon scholarship has done more to establish rational grounds for belief in the Book of Mormon than Hugh Nibley.  Acquiring impressive scholarly credentials (summa cum laude from UCLA and a Berkeley Ph.D. dissertation written in three weeks in 1938) before heading off to war….

From page 124,

Nibley’s legendary erudition, fluency across a spectrum of languages, and prodigious output (appearing in a wide range of scholarly publications from the Classical Journal and Encyclopedia Judaica to Church History and Revue de Qumran) have lent his work a weight that is unprecedented in Mormon studies.

Praised by the likes of non-LDS scholars Raphael Patai, Jacob Neusner, James Charlesworth, Cyrus Gordon, Jacob Milgrom, and former Harvard Divinity School dean George McRae (“it is obscene for a man to know that much,” he grumbled, hearing him lecture), Nibley has done more than any Mormon of his era to further the intellectual credibility of the Book of Mormon.²³ Inspired by his work, a more recent generation of LDS researchers brings a range of impressive scholarly credentials to serious Book of Mormon scholarship.²⁴

Many critics of the Book of Mormon take issue with this idea of “Reformed Egyptian.”  Givens quotes Moroni on page 132,

“we have written this record according to our knowledge, in the characters which are called among us the reformed Egyptian, being handed down and altered by us, according to our manner of speech” (Morm. 9:32)

Mormon scholars take this to suggest the possibility that the writers used modified Egyptian symbols to represent Hebrew words (“Hebrew words, idioms, and syntax written in Egyptian cursive script”⁵³), certainly a bizarre idea for a nineteenth-century audience.  Now as John Tvedtnes points out, “the use of Egyptian symbols to transliterate Hebrew words and vice versa, is known from the sixth century B.C. text discovered at Arad and Kadesh-Barnea,”⁵⁴ Papyrus Amherst 63, for example, “contains a scriptural text in Northwest Semitic tongue written in an Egyptian script.”⁵⁵

Givens shows other parallels in the chapter, including:

• Lehi’s travel through the desert,
• his poetic structure,
• the golden plates parallel with the Copper Scroll found with the Dead Sea Scrolls (and other writings on ancient metal plates),
• similarities between Moroni’s Title of Liberty and the Quran,
• King Benjamin’s coronation was similar to Bablyonian rituals, and
• important plates buried in stone boxes by Darius, king of Persia.

Givens goes on to talk about John Welch.  As a missionary in Germany in 1967, Welch attended a lecture on chiasmus, a Hebrew literary device.  Welch soon discovered chiasmus in Mosiah 5:10-12, a form of inverted parallel poetry.  Welch went on to work with FARMS, the Foundation of Ancient Research and Mormon Studies (formed in 1979.)  The group looks at Old World parallels in the Book of Mormon.  Givens addresses John Sorenson, the most recognized archaeologist advocating a Central American setting for the Book of Mormon.  (I plan a future post exclusively to Sorenson and his theory.)

Givens says that Mormon Scholarship is causing alarm among Evangelical critics.  From page 143,

Under the burden of Mormon scholarship that is increasingly well credentialed, and in the face of Mormon growth that is alarming to evangelicals,¹¹⁰ the polemics of nineteenth-century preachers are no longer an adequate response.  Until recently, for example, criticisms of barley or pre-Columbian horses in the Book of Mormon would come from writers of anti-Mormon books–not from botanists or archaeologists.  The latter have not, for the most part, taken the Book of Mormon seriously enough as a text to analyze its historical credibility.  A recent paper by two evangelical scholars suggests that a realignment of the Book of Mormon wars may be coming.

The 1997 address of Carl Mosser and Paul Owen at a regional meeting of the Evangelical Theological Society was remarkable for a number of reasons.  First, it accorded high praise to the state of Mormon scholarship.  They summarized a number of recent publications to illustrate their assertion that “in recent years the sophistication and erudition of LDS apologetics has risen considerably…[and] is clearly seen in their approach to the Book of Mormon.”  As difficult as it may be to accept the fact, “LDS academicians are producing serious research which desperately needs to be critically examined,” they insisted.¹¹¹

In addition, Mosser and Owen are adamant that evangelical responses to Mormon scholarship have been, almost universally, “uninformed, misleading, or otherwise inadequate….At the academic level evangelicals are losing the debate.”¹¹² Actually, it hardly resembles a debate, because Mormon scholars, they acknowledge, “have…answered most of the usual evangelical criticisms.”  And, as of 1997, there were “no books from an evangelical perspective that responsibly interact with contemporary LDS scholarly and apologetic writings.”¹¹³

…[page 144]  The major force in anti-Mormon polemics has long been Jerald and Sandra Tanner…It is no wonder that non-Mormon historian Lawrence Foster has faulted these critics, the most prolific of all anti-Mormon writers, for “twisting” scholarship, resorting to “debaters’ ploys,” and, in general, demonstrating “lack of balance and perspective.”¹¹⁷

So, what do you think of the state of Mormon Scholarship?

This story is so very, very familiar to us that I think it’s important to look at it with a fresh perspective.  So in this post I am including some pieces from media and the arts that force us to think about Genesis 22.  I promise you in advance that some of these might be disturbing to you.  Probably you will disagree with the portrayal of Abraham’s sacrifice in at least one, if not all, of these pieces.  I hope you will share your reactions in the comments.

One of my favorite poems juxtaposes the story of Abraham with World War I.  The poet, Wilfred Owen, is a tragic figure himself, who was gunned down at age 25 just seven days before the Armistice on November 4, 1918.  This poem invites the reader to consider the effects of extreme religious devotion.

The Parable of the Young Man and the Old
Wilfred Owen

So Abram rose, and clave the wood, and went,
And took the fire with him, and a knife.
And as they sojourned, both of them together,
Isaac the first-born spake, and said, My Father,
Behold the preparations, fire and iron,
But where the lamb for this burnt-offering?
Then Abram bound the youth with belts and straps,
And builded parapets the trenches there,
And stretched forth the knife to slay his son.
When lo! an angel called him out of heaven,
Saying, Lay not thy hand upon the lad,
Neither do anything to him. Behold,
A ram, caught in a thicket by its horns;
Offer the Ram of Pride instead of him.
But the old man would not so, but slew his son,
And half the seed of Europe, one by one.

The next bit of media comes from the BBC’s That Mitchell and Webb Look. The parody pokes fun at believers whose religion keeps them from thinking for themselves:

The image below is an etching entitled The Sacrifice of Abraham by Marc Chagall.   The same study was done as a watercolor, as an oil painting, and as a drawing in pastel and China ink.  Each has symbolic features which are not present in the others.  A review of the etching describes it as follows:

“…the sacrifice of Abraham presents human drama as confrontation of two wills and two freedoms: that of the creator and his creature. Chagall’s rendering of this scene is of great subtlety. Using a mirror effect between the figures of Isaac and the angel, between Abraham’s posture and that of the heavenly messenger, he suggests complementarity and ultimate unity between heaven and earth. In the end, there will be no opposition between the faithful Abraham and his God, because there exists a perfect match between human obedience and divine mercy. The bound and naked Isaac is a symbol of extreme vulnerability and suggests acute sensitivity to the word of God. God answers in kind, rushing his angel in sudden descent to arrest the movement of Abraham’s knife. Thus, although bathed in an atmosphere of frightening proportions, the pictorial narrative speaks of two worlds reconciled by tender love. The latter, tender love, finds its artistic expression in the tiny white ram emerging from the thicket on the left. Too tiny for the giant knife, the ram is a reminder that God does not want sacrifices but love.”

Does this type of yielding and vulnerable submission make you  more comfortable than the more fanatic type? Why or why not?

Now let’s explore what would happen if Abraham did decide to think for himself — to take a critical look at what God was asking him to do. What if that were God’s purpose behind the lesson, after all? This short story comes from the Fob Bible, which I own and I highly recommend. It is called “Abraham’s Purgatory,” and was written by Ben Christensen.

Abraham’s Purgatory (click to read)

I included the lithograph below by Salvador Dali because I think it is interesting how the Abraham and Isaac figures are so small and how the focus of the work is the angel. It dominates the picture and brings to mind the sacred nature of the sacrificial story. Dali’s angel is not an insipid, white robed choir boy. We see the figure from the back and it is both awe-inspiring, unknowable, and a bit frightening.

Abraham, Abraham! by Salvador Dali

As you watch the following comedic sketch, ask yourself the question: “Is it easier to do something God asks if you want to do it anyway?” How much personal interpretation comes into play when we are deciphering God’s will?

Jewish Midrash suggests that it was difficult to dissuade Abraham from the act of sacrificial violence once he had decided to kill his son. The Midrash reads: “…and he said: Lay not thy hand upon the lad. Where was the knife? Tears had fallen from the angels upon it and dissolved it.” It was the tears of the angels, not those of Abraham that dissolved the knife. Yet, even after seeing the knife dissolve, Abraham is unconvinced and persists with the violence. “’Then I will strangle him,’ said he [Abraham] to Him. ‘Lay not thy hand upon the lad,’ was the reply. ‘Let us bring forth a drop of blood from him,’ he pleaded.” Abraham refuses to be deterred. His unaffected and immediate suggestion of an alternative method of sacrifice is shocking. Some may consider this to be steadfast piety, but the violent undertone stands in stark contrast with the Midrashim that emphasize piety over violence. After that method is refused, he then pleads if he may bring forth a drop of blood from his son. The use of the word “pleads” would lead one to assume that Abraham’s plea to G-d was an emotional one. The emotion, it seems, stems more so from an inability to sacrifice his son than from G-d’s request that the sacrifice be made.

The sculpture below by Berruguete is included for its portrayal of the human emotion on the faces of Abraham and Isaac. You will probably hear in your Sunday School lesson the idea that Isaac was a youth in his prime at the time of the sacrifice, while Abraham was an old man. This interpretation promotes the idea that Isaac was a willing participant in the act of submission to God. The sculpture visually portrays this idea, picturing Isaac as a strong and virile young man, capable of wresting himself free from his bonds. Though horrified and frightened, he is kneeling and complaisant.

The final piece of media I would like to include for your consideration is a biblical canticle written by Benjamin Britten. During this two-person opera, one singer assumes the role of Abraham while the other takes that of Isaac. Through the homophony of the two singers, God’s voice emerges as if it were a third solo singer. The use of the older tenor and the younger alto voices in the vignette below to sing the words of God is very moving.

GOD: Abraham, my servant, Abraham,
Take Isaac, thy son by name,
That thou lovest the best of all,
And in sacrifice offer him to me
Upon that hill there beside thee.

Abraham, I will that so it be,
For aught that may befall.

As they sing “Abraham,” the notes are first discordant, then resolve, aptly representing the theme of the story.

Abraham and Isaac by Benjamin Britten

The story of Abraham and Isaac is a powerful one. It is the most dramatic moment in the life of one of the most important of the Biblical prophets. I think that its inclusion in the Bible is meant to be disturbing and to evoke turmoil and discomfort. I hope that the Sunday School portrayal of this section of the scriptural record will not be too soft and fluffy.

“The Genesis passage is very clear, that the sin of Sodom that brought on the destruction of the city was indeed linked to homosexuality.” (R. Albert Mohler Jr., president of the Southern Baptist Seminary)

“Saying that the last recorded acts of the Sodomites — the demands for same-gender sex — are proof that they were destroyed for homosexuality is like saying that a condemned man cursing his guards on the way to his execution is being executed for cursing the guards. Sodom was judged worthy of destruction before the incident with Lot and the angels.” (Inge Anderson, “Sins of Sodom“)

One of the prominent themes in this week’s Sunday School lesson is the story of Lot and the destruction of Sodom and Gomorrah. But in Christian thought there has been some controversy over how closely the story should be linked to homosexuality, as the quotes above indicate. There are several points that are up for grabs, and I’m not sure either side has a complete understanding yet. Read on, and let me know what you think!

The background of the story should be taken into account as we try to figure out what is happening. In Genesis 18, three angelic messengers visit Abraham to prophesy about the birth of his son and to warn of the destruction of Sodom and Gomorrah. This is the part where Abraham shows his compassion by bargaining with the Lord for a stay of execution if there are 10 righteous people to be found in the city. The narrative shows that the destruction has already been decreed, even before Lot’s experience with the men of Sodom.

Next, the angels enter the city. That Lot meets them at the gate is significant. Though a resident alien, Lot is taking a turn guarding the walls. Sodom has been at war, and not surprisingly the inhabitants of the city are wary of visitors. The very night a non-native of the city is trusted to watch the gate (thus controlling traffic in and out), he lets two people that nobody knows into the city and what’s more behind closed doors for the night in his house! Certainly this raised some eyebrows and caused some suspicion. Soon the residents of Sodom — all the people, both young and old — have gathered outside of Lot’s house and are demanding that Lot bring the visitors out “that we may know them.”

The meaning of the Hebrew word yada’ (to know) has engendered much of the controversy behind this story. The word has a euphemistic meaning (to engage in coitus). Of 943 times yada’ is used in the Old Testament, only ten times is it used with a sexual connotation, and all of these are heterosexual coitus. Thus some have conjectured that the townspeople were merely asking to know the credentials and intentions of strangers in their city. On the other hand, when yada’ is used with a sexual meaning, a large number of those references occur within the book of Genesis. In fact, the word is used in a clearly euphemistic sense in Genesis 19:8, just three verses after the reference in question.

The absolute sacredness of a guest was a principle well known in the Middle East. Lot wanted to protect his guests, and he refused to hand them over to the crowd. When the crowd insisted, he offered his two daughters as the most expedient diversion for a hostile situation. In the Joseph Smith Translation of these verses, it is suggested that Lot did not offer his daughters, but that the Sodomites demanded the girls as well as the visiting angels. But there is another story in the Bible which parallels the Genesis story. It is found in Judges 19:13-27. In this account, the house guest was a man, not an angel, and the master of the house offered his daughter and the man’s concubine to the mob. They accepted the concubine woman in place of the man, and raped her until she died. The city was destroyed — for heterosexual rape and violation of the law of hospitality. In spite of this very similar destruction of a city, no one condemns heterosexuality on the basis of this passage, but rather there is condemnation of rape.

This may indicate that the story of Sodom in Genesis has little to do with homosexuality and more to do with rampant, violent sex as well as irreverent attitudes regarding sex. Sodom’s primary sin was violence. The threat against the messengers and Lot’s daughters is a threat of sexual violence in which sexual orientation is irrelevant. The behavior of the people of Sodom wasn’t about attraction. It was about harming people as profoundly as they could. One might conclude that gang raping some guys is a pretty serious sin, no matter how you look at it. Making the sudden leap to compare them to committed monogomous gay couples, however, is outrageous and unfounded. There is no real similarity, and indeed, our modern Western view of “sexual orientation” did not exist in ancient Biblical times.

Another method of uncovering the meaning of the lesson of Sodom is by looking at how other Biblical passages interpret the story. Throughout the Old Testament, Sodom is held up as a lesson in wickedness that deserves utter destruction for reasons other than homosexual acts. Of the eighteen passages outside of the story itself found in Old Testament writings none refer to same sex activity, and only one alludes to sexual immorality (namely, adultery). To cite a few examples of those found among the words of the Hebrew prophets, Isaiah (1:1-17; 13:1-22) refers to Sodom and Gomorrah to condemn general evil and injustice; Jeremiah (23:9-15), to general moral and ethical laxity. Ezekiel (16:46-56) and Amos (chapter 4) condemn the kingdoms of Judah and Israel, more specifically, for neglecting the poor and needy.

“Behold, this was the iniquity of thy sister Sodom, pride, fulness of bread, and abundance of idleness was in her and in her daughters, neither did she strengthen the hand of the poor and needy. And they were haughty, and committed abomination before me”

The Deuterocanonical books identify the sin as pride and inhospitality; in Wisdom 19:13-14, we read “…whereas the men of Sodom received not the strangers when they came among them.” In Ecclesiasticus 16:8 the sin is recognized as pride. In the New Testament, too, there is reference to Sodom’s sins: In Matthew 10:14-15 and Luke 10:10-13, Jesus implied that the sin of the people of Sodom was to be inhospitable and to reject the words of the gospel messengers.

It’s not until the very late books of 2 Peter 2 and Jude 6, that “sexual immorality” and “depraved lusts” are considered sins of Sodom. In 2 Peter especially, the author seems to be drawing a comparison between “the sons of God” who came down to earth and mated with “the daughters of men” (see Lesson 6), and the men of Sodom who attempted to do sexual violence to the divine visitors whom Lot invited into his home. The comparison is that there was an unnatural mating, or attempt at a violent sexual act, between a divine being and a human being. The first acts lead ultimately to destruction by a flood, the second attempted act to destruction by fire.

A final consideration for the Latter-day Saint might be the words of modern Prophets and Apostles upon the matter. I will only include a few quotations here, but they are enough to demonstrate that there is a lack of consensus upon why the cities of Sodom and Gomorrah were destroyed, and whether or not it had to do with homosexuality. Joseph Smith preached:

“In consequence of rejecting the Gospel of Jesus Christ and the Prophets whom God hath sent, the judgments of God have rested upon people, cities, and nations, in various ages of the world, which was the case with the cities of Sodom and Gomorrah, that were destroyed for rejecting the Prophets.” Teachings of the Presidents of the Church: Joseph Smith, 192–205. From a discourse given by Joseph Smith in Nauvoo on Jan. 22, 1843.)

In contrast, Spencer W. Kimball unequivocally equated the sin of Sodom and Gomorrah with homosexuality:

“We hear more and more each day about the sins of adultery, homosexuality, and lesbianism. Homosexuality is an ugly sin, but because of its prevalence, the need to warn the uninitiated, and the desire to help those who may already be involved with it, it must be brought into the open. It is the sin of the ages. It was present in Israel’s wandering as well as after and before. It was tolerated by the Greeks. It was prevalent in decaying Rome. The ancient cities of Sodom and Gomorrah are symbols of wretched wickedness more especially related to this perversion, as the incident of Lot’s visitors indicates. (Spencer W. Kimball,The Foundations of Righteousness,” Ensign, Nov 1977, 4)

Ezra Taft Benson taught that pride was the sin which caused the city of Sodom to be destroyed:

“The scriptures abound with evidences of the severe consequences of the sin of pride to individuals, groups, cities, and nations. ‘Pride goeth before destruction.’ It destroyed the Nephite nation and the city of Sodom.” (Ezra Taft Benson, Beware of Pride,” Ensign, May 1989, 4.)

More in line with Ezekiel, Neal A. Maxwell considered Sodom’s sin to be neglect of the poor and needy:

“When love waxes cold, let the poor and the needy beware too, for they will be neglected, as happened in ancient Sodom.” (Neal A. Maxwell, Repent of [Our] Selfishness’ (D&C 56:8), Ensign, May 1999, 23)

Perhaps in this post I have taken the long way around to show that, while I don’t think that homosexual orientation can be blamed for the destruction of Sodom and the cities of the plain, there are several valid interpretations of this passage. Additionally, there are many questions we don’t have good answers for. Why did Lot offer his daughters in place of the heavenly visitors, and why was he not condemned for this action? Of the entire city of Sodom, were there not children under 8 years old, and possibly others who were innocently killed in the destruction? Is it possible to connect the several sexual relationships which seem to run through the scripture block comprising Genesis 18-19? What are the symbolic meanings of the characters and actions? The story is so ambiguous that perhaps every reader comes away with a different perception of the lesson to be taught. I have illustrated that point by including below some art work, each with its own unique depiction of the destruction of Sodom and Gomorrah.

The Destruction of Sodom and Gomorrah, c. 1320

Albrecht Dürer
Lot and His Daughters

Marc Chagall
Abraham Approaching Sodom with Three Angels

Giusto de Menabuoi
Sodom and Gomorrah

Julius Schnoor von Carolsfeld
Lot flees Sodom

Rembrandt van Rijn
Lot and His Family Leaving Sodom

Gustave Doré
Lot flees Sodom

Henry O. Tanner
Sodom and Gomorrah

Alessandro Bavari
The City of Sodom

One of the beautiful things about the Old Testament and also one of the most frustrating is its use of symbols, types and shadows,  signs,  and tokens.  It is said that a picture is worth a thousand words and the same can be true of a symbol or type.  A symbol can represent something that is often hard to explain or cannot be expressed in a small amount of words.

Our entire life is full of symbols and other devices to represent an idea, or even a rule.  Symbols like the $, £ or € are readily identified as types of money.  Others, such as: ©, §, ™ each has a special meaning, which we might recognize,  but would require a long explanation to fully understand it. Others still, like traffic signs are very obvious like a STOP sign, but others such as the one pictured here, need training to understand what it means and how we are to use it.

And so it is with the symbols, types and shadows, signs and tokens of the Gospels. A general rule that might be applied, as described in 2 Nephi 11:4 is that all things typify of Christ.  In other words, all things somehow point to Jesus Christ. Our task is to figure out how.

So just what are symbols, types and shadows, signs,  and tokens.

Symbols – According to The Merriam-Webster Dictionary a symbol is: ”an authoritative summary of faith or doctrine: or 2 : something that stands for or suggests something else by reason of relationship, association, convention, or accidental resemblance. “

“Symbols are teaching devices. Symbols are the language in which all gospel covenants and all ordinances of salvation have been revealed. From the time we are immersed in the waters of baptism to the time we kneel at the altar of the temple with the companion of our choice in the ordinance of eternal marriage, every covenant we make will be written in the language of symbolism.”  (Donald W. Parry, Joseph Fielding McConkie, Guide to Scriptural Symbols, 1990 Page 1)

Examples of Gospel Symbols

Noah’s Ark is a symbol of the Savior Jesus Christ because for Noah’s family and mankind from that point forward, it was the Ark that figuratively saved them from destruction in much the same way as the Savior saves us from eternal destruction.

The Arm is a symbol of power and strength, such as:

“With him is an arm of flesh; but with us is the LORD our God to help us, and to fight our battles.  And the people rested themselves upon the words of Hezekiah king of Judah. (2 Chronicles 32:8)”

The Passover is rich with symbols such as the unleavened bread, the Matzah, which reminds us of the haste in which the Israelites left their captivity and the sweetness of freedom. The Bitter Herbs, which reminds us of the bitterness of slavery and the bitterness of sin and finally, the unblemished firstborn Lamb, sacrificed for freedom,  a symbol of Jesus Christ, the greatest sacrifice of all who frees us from sin and brings us freedom through repentance.

Types and shadows – “a person or thing (as in the Old Testament) believed to foreshadow another (as in the New Testament)” (http://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/type). A type can be a person, an event or a place or location. (Alonzo L. Gaskill, The Lost Language of Symbolism, Salt Lake City 2003)

Examples of Types and Shadows

People – There are a significant number of examples where people are types for others, mainly the Savior.  Adam, Enoch, Noah, Moses, Abraham, Isaac, Jacob and David, etc. are all types for Jesus Christ, for example. Cain is a type for Satan/Lucifer. The story of Esau and Jacob has Esau as a type for the old Covenant and Jacob representing the Gospel of Jesus Christ or the new Covenant.

Events- the Renting of the Veil typifies the ability for us to return to Our Heavenly Father and our new found access to Him though the Atonement of Jesus Christ.

Place or Location – Kolob is a place that typifies Jesus Christ.

“And I saw the stars, that they were very great, and that one of them was nearest unto the throne of God; and there were many great ones which were near unto it;

And the Lord said unto me: These are the governing ones; and the name of the great one is Kolob, because it is near unto me, for I am the Lord thy God: I have set this one to govern all those which belong to the same order as that upon which thou standest.” (Abraham 3:2 – 3)

Jesus stands next to the Father and is certainly one of the great ones. And at the Father’s right hand, He is the nearest to Him.

Signs – “something material or external that stands for or signifies something spiritual or  something indicating the presence or existence of something else.”  ( http://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/sign)  Signs are typically given to show or warn the people of, a future event. The sign can mark a good event or a bad event. The most common usage for signs is to inform the people of the impending Savior’s birth, or to describe how the last days before the second coming of Christ will play themselves out (i.e. the Signs of the Times).

Examples of Signs

The birth of the Savior – “Therefore the Lord himself shall give you a sign; Behold, a virgin shall conceive, and bear a son, and shall call his name Immanuel.” (Isaiah 7:14)

To show the power of God – “And thou shalt take this rod in thine hand, wherewith thou shalt do signs.” (Exodus 4:17)

Keeping the Sabbath Day Holy – “Speak thou also unto the children of Israel, saying, Verily my sabbaths ye shall keep: for it is a sign between me and you throughout your generations; that ye may know that I am the LORD that doth sanctify you. Ye shall keep the sabbath therefore; for it is holy unto you: every one that defileth it shall surely be put to death: for whosoever doeth any work therein, that soul shall be cut off from among his people.” (Exodus 31:13 – 14)

Token – an outward sign or expression (http://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/token) The token is usually a physical thing that represents a covenant between God and man or the sealing of a covenant between God and man.

Examples of Tokens

The rainbow – After the Flood, The Lord told Noah, “This is the token of the covenant which I make between me and you and every living creature that is with you, for perpetual generations: I do set my bow in the cloud, and it shall be for a token of a covenant between me and the earth.” (Genesis 9:12 – 13)

Circumcision – And ye shall circumcise the flesh of your foreskin; and it shall be a token of the covenant betwixt me and you. (Genesis 17:11). This token was done away with by the Atonement of Jesus Christ.

The blood on the door post during the Passover – The Lord instructed the Israelites to take the blood of the lamb and apply it to their door post as a token of their obedience to the Lord’s instructions. Did the Angel of death or the Lord need the blood on the door to identify the faithful?  Of course not. But the Israelites needed to do it to show their obedience.

“And the blood shall be to you for a token upon the houses where ye are: and when I see the blood, I will pass over you, and the plague shall not be upon you to destroy you, when I smite the land of Egypt.” (Exodus 12:13)

These are but a small example of the symbols, types and shadows, signs and tokens contained in the Old Testament. As you study them, please keep in mind these guidelines given by Gerald Lund in the Book, “Literature of Belief: Sacred Scripture and Religious Experience,” edited by Neal A. Lambert:

1.   Look beyond the symbol for its intended meaning.

2.   Look for the interpretation of the symbol in the scriptures themselves.

3.   Look for Christ in the symbols and imagery of the scriptures.

4.   Let the nature of the object used as a symbol contribute to your understanding of its spiritual meaning.

5.   Seek the reality behind the symbol.