ME&C: A Deliberate Savior (Mosiah 11)

As things go downhill for the people of Zeniff (now ruled by Zeniff's son, King Noah), an intriguing prophet begins to cry repentance using no uncertain terms.

In the midst of his preaching, Abinadi uses a phrase that used to trouble me. In repeating the words of the Lord, Abinadi says the following about the efficacy of the people's prayers once they get around to repenting:

"Yea, and it shall come to pass that when they shall cry unto me I will be slow to hear their cries..." (v. 24)

One of the many delightful episodes of The Office involves the character Michael Scott dressing up as Jesus to out-Christmas a coworker dressed as Santa. Things, as they so often do when Michael is competing for affection and attention, spiral out of control, and Michael-as-Jesus heckles the office Christmas party. One of the lines that always strikes me occurs when Michael, now dressed in sweatpants and over his mood swing, declines to take responsibility for the emotional havoc he's caused:

"That was a different guy. That was Jesus. Jesus sort of ruined the party. Hurt, petulant Jesus."

I remember laughing so hard because of how absurd the staccato phrase "hurt, petulant Jesus" seemed to me. But read at face value, this verse from Abinadi's sermon seems to imply that if we sin, Jesus will plug his ears and petulantly pretend to not hear our cries until he's decided we're invited back to his birthday party.

And that's what troubled me.

Luckily, using a little tool called "ze cross reference" I read the 10th Psalm where the psalmist asks the Lord how much longer he will hide his face and allow the wicked to abuse this world. Reading that psalm and the other cross-referenced passages, I came to the understanding that the Lord is always slow to hear our cries --at least from our perspective.

Instead of the word "slow," I think deliberate better captures this sense. When I hold the door open for someone carrying loads of boxes, I'm not immediately blessed by the visitation of angels. When I trip that same person as he passes through the door, I'm not immediately smitten.

The Lord doesn't petulantly drag his feet, but rather strides ever forward with measured and wise steps. He acts when it's appropriate and isn't swayed by convenient changes of heart. I think that understanding lends greater intensity to Abinadi's initial sermon.

ME&C: Stereotypes and Mediocrity (Mosiah 10)

To pump his people up before another bloody battle with invading Lamanites, Zeniff stands before his people and uses the same strategies that have been used for thousands of years in preparation for conflict--he dehumanizes their adversary to make it easier to look them in the eye and shed their blood. He even does so by telling his people about the stereotypes that all Lamanites believe that in turn cause them to dehumanize the Nephites.

Dizzy yet?

One of the most effective comes at the end of Zeniff's invective ("they" refers to Lamanites, "them" to Nephites): "...they have taught their children that they should hate them, and that they should murder them, and that they should rob and plunder them, and do all they could to destroy them..." (v. 17). 

Even the children are poisoned against us! Zeniff has come a long way from sabotaging a Nephite war expedition because he wanted to enter into peace talks with the Lamanites. Something tells me that the fireside family chats he talks about above were not the aspects of Lamanite culture he found so endearing 30 years earlier.I also doubt Zeniff had spent much time observing Lamanite parents teaching their children. He was pretty busy running a frontier community and being a demi-king.

Are there bits of truth wound up in this? Absolutely. But Zeniff's statements about the Lamanites as a people ignore the nuance and complexity endemic to a single person's experience, let alone an entire society's.

Dehumanizing stereotypes are most easily spotted in hindsight, and they are not the sole province of the past. But I think that's the point. These two posts I've written in Zeniff don't cast him in the nicest light, but it's my belief that Zeniff, Noah (whom we'll meet shortly), and Limhi form a three generation trifecta of imperfect leadership to contrast sharply with the inspired leadership of King Benjamin and Alma, whose accounts book-end the sad tale of Zeniff's people.

Zeniff isn't as immediately off-putting as a Sherem or Nehor (sorry for all the name dropping), but deep reading reveals a story of warning and uninspired leadership just as important to learn from as the warnings of Jacob 7 or Alma 1.

ME&C: Slanted Narrative (Mosiah 9)

One of my favorite Emily Dickinson poems is "Tell All the Truth."

Tell all the truth but tell it slant,
Success in circuit lies,
Too bright for our infirm delight
The truth's superb surprise;

As lightning to the children eased
With explanation kind,
The truth must dazzle gradually
Or every man be blind.      

I don't think it's blasphemous to believe that parts of the Book of Mormon aren't quite telling 100% of the truth. In fact, the title page written by the prophet Moroni admits as much, saying "And now, if there are faults they are the mistakes of men; wherefore, condemn not the things of God..." In  other words, men wrote these records and were subject to all the imperfections suffered by men from time immemorial. That doesn't mean we cast the baby out with the bath water, though. The truths from God contained in this book are still precious and numerous.

Chapter 9 of the Book of Mosiah takes us on a time warp back to the time of Limhi's grandfather, Zeniff, but I have a hard time believing 100% of what our friend Zeniff says. Both the beginning and the end of the chapter are perfect examples of victors writing history.

Zeniff was a spy in the Nephite army, sent out to identify Lamanite weaknesses that could be exploited in an attack.

"...but when I saw that which was good among them I was desirous that they should not be destroyed. Therefore, I contended with my brethren in the wilderness, for I would that our ruler should make a treaty with them; but he being an austere and a blood-thirsty man commanded that I should be slain; but I was rescued by the shedding of much blood...until the greater number of our army was destroyed in the wilderness..." (v. 1-2).

Zeniff makes it back, though, to relate the why and how of a massacre where not a single enemy unsheathed a sword or fletched an arrow.

Maybe it happened like that. Methinks we're missing a key component of the story.

That feeling is exacerbated by the death toll in a later battle with the Lamanites.

Lamanite dead: 3043
Nephite dead: 279

Maybe he learned to count casualties from U.S. central command in Vietnam, but that sounds a little like propaganda, especially when, unlike other times, the Nephites had no real technological advantage.

Why is this important? It's not, really. Despite his slanted truth, Zeniff succeeds in relating his history in a way that can be applied to our lives today. But the biggest lesson I learn from Zeniff in this chapter is that all stories are told from imperfect memories using imperfect words and imperfect tongues. I can embrace the lessons learned from Zeniff without staking my family's honor to the truthfulness of his every word.

ME&C: The Fullness Trap (Mosiah 8)

I often think there's a curse of arrogance that accompanies any group of people convinced they have all of something. All the gold, all the ability, all the knowledge.

The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints professes to have received, directly from our Father in heaven via modern day prophets, a "fulness of the gospel". In other words, all the truths that are required to teach men and women the way to salvation. I believe this is 100% true.

However, members of the Church's cultural community often interpret "fulness of the gospel" as "all the truth about God, his plan, and his actions." This is demonstrably false, as you will find for yourself if you ask anyone, from the prophet to your Mormon neighbor, hard questions about life. They can give you answers with a lot of truth...but they can't tell you why all things are the way the are.

I see this same curse manifest in Limhi's discourse throughout the chapters of the Book of Mormon that portray him and his people. Case in point--one of the more awkward exchanges in scripture.

Ammon from Zarahemla is talking about how King Mosiah, back home, has been given power from God to interpret languages that no one else can interpret. This power from God qualifies him as a "seer" or one who sees things beyond the ken of normal human ability.

"And the king said that a seer is greater than a prophet.
And Ammon said that a seer is a revelator and a prophet also..." (15-16)

Limhi doesn't try to interrupt Ammon again.

There examples in these chapters that show that Limhi is trying his darnedest to be a righteous man. He quotes scripture; he teaches his people in front of the temple. At the core he really is a good man and a good king.

But he doesn't know everything. As soon as he turns his king voice on and starts making pronouncements, conflating his thoughts with the Lord's thoughts, Ammon shoots him down. He does it with tact, but his answer is also saying, "You don't really get it, so I'll teach you."

My experiences have taught me very intimately what answers the truth revealed in the Church has (and does not have), so I no longer tend towards this mistake when it comes to theology. But I make it all the time in other realms (parenting, marriage, work, blogging, etc.).

So the lesson from Limhi is: know what you know, know what you don't know, and if it's worth learning, shut up and listen.

ME&C: Negotiating Race (Mosiah 7)

One of the greatest tests of my faith involved the seemingly racist bent of the Book of Mormon. For those unfamiliar with the book, a quick explanation:

A prophet named Lehi takes his family and neighbors away from Jerusalem before its destruction at the hands of Babylon around 600 B.C.E. The community thrives upon its arrival in the Western Hemisphere, but after Lehi's death, the family splits. One branch following one of Lehi's sons, Nephi, takes the holy scriptures brought from Jerusalem and takes off in the night. For the first couple hundred years, this branch does a decent job of maintaining righteousness with the help of lots of prophets. The other branch, led by another of Lehi's sons (Laman), doesn't fare so well, and their society quickly degenerates, always hating Nephi and his descendants for what was stolen.

That doesn't seem racist, right? Except for this. After the split of the two peoples, Nephi records the following:

"And he had caused the cursing to come upon them, yea, even a sore cursing, because of their iniquity. For behold, they had hardened their hearts against him, that they had become like unto a flint; wherefore, as they were white, and exceedingly fair and delightsome, that they might not be enticing unto my people the Lord God did cause a skin of blackness to come upon them." (2 Nephi 5:21).

Yikes. I don't believe in a literal acceptance of this verse. I don't believe dark skin to be curse. I don't believe God ever darkened anyone's skin to punish them. Dark skin is neither ugly nor inferior. In God's perfect eyes, it's just skin.  Any other meaning ascribed thereto is just us being imperfect.

Instead, I believe in a figurative interpretation of this verse that uses skin as a metaphor for appearance. I read it like this: God allowed their appearance to change in some way that the evil in their hearts was also visibly manifest in their appearance. Whether a cultural marking, a tattoo, or the physical dissolution that accompanies a dissolute lifestyle, the Lamanites' disobedience led to some kind of barrier between them and the Nephites. The fact that Lamanites were always trying kill Nephites (and vice versa) probably contributed more to that division than physical appearance. But the Lamanites weren't black. And the Nephites sure as heck weren't Caucasian. They were the same race.

Note that I'm not saying the verse was mistranslated. The translation came from God through the Prophet Joseph Smith. However, the easy literal reading of this verse, which the Church's culture has accepted unthinkingly for far too long, has caused a great amount of evil and hurt in this world.

This was mostly a long preamble to explain that I have spent many years reading the Book of Mormon to find textual evidence in support of my interpretation. That evidence is of two kinds. The first demonstrates the impossibility of vast racial difference between peoples in early America. The second demonstrates the likelihood of my interpretation of skin as a metaphor for appearance.

This chapter has some of the first kind. If Nephites were white and Lamanites black, then enemies in this Manichean power dynamic would be easily recognizable. And yet, when Ammon the explorer meets King Limhi outside the city walls (both Nephites), Limhi is startled and caught off guard. He orders Ammon and his comrades (ostensibly a bunch of fellow white guys that he should have racially recognized as his skin-tagged allies) bound and almost sentences them to death without another thought.

The only reason they're spared is because, as Limhi says, "I desire to know the cause whereby ye were so bold as to come near the walls of the city when I, myself, was with my guards without the gate?" (v. 10)

Not an earth-shattering addition to my quest. But worthwhile in its little way.

ME&C: Non-burdensome Leadership (Mosiah 6)

Like his father before him, King Mosiah makes a point in the records to note that he "did till the earth, that thereby he might not become burdensome to his people..." (v. 7)

Both Benjamin, Mosiah, and (later) Alma make this point, which leads me to believe that they were the exception rather than the rule in their community's governmental history.

What is a burdensome leader? I've been in situations of leadership from time to time in church, work, or school. At church, my preoccupation with avoiding burdensome leadership often caused me to lead (and therefore do) little. I was afraid the activities or processes I implemented would be a burden to those whom I temporarily looked after.

But I don't think that's the message here. 

At work, I've learned a little more about burdensome leadership. There are some leaders who simply delegate everything. They sit back and watch as each gear performs its task, confident that they are expert examples of managerial leadership since the mechanism runs so well. What happens, though, is that they learn little by watching others work. They lose knowledge; they lose the edge of expertise that placed them in a position of leadership in the first place. Those they lead begin to resent this leader who asks his team to perform relatively easy tasks that should really be done by the leader. The leader becomes more and more useless, the team members more and more disenchanted, and dysfunction is born.

Other leaders, non-burdensome leaders, take a different approach. They see themselves as an integral part of the team. They may not master every task, but they become well-acquainted with it. They take on new, visionary tasks; sometimes keeping them, sometimes delegating them to a team member who can or will learn to perform them better than the leader could. The non-burdensome leader makes sure that if there's something she can do to make her team members' lives a little easier, she's doing it. And more than anything else, this kind of leader always makes sure she's doing something to help further the team's goals and well-being.

There are opportunities I have to be a non-burdensome leader at work and in church, but I think the most important opportunity is at home. I would like to become a less burdensome husband. I'm sure the Mrs. has a nice list of ways I could jump in and "till the earth." And hopefully, that experience will prepare me to become that rare breed--a non-burdensome father.

ME&C: Disposition (Mosiah 5)

At the end of King Benjamin's address, he does very few speakers today do--he finds out if they get it.

They got it.

"They all cried with one voice saying: Yea, we believe all the words which thou hast spoken unto us; and also, we know of their surety and truth, because of the Spirit of the Lord Omnipotent, which as wrought a mighty change in us, or in our hearts, that we have no more disposition to do evil, but to do good continually." (v. 2)

This verse has alternately inspired, tormented, and puzzled me.

How can I get to that same point, a point where I will have no more disposition to do evil, but to do good continually?

In dark times, I have used that phrase as a mantra, repeating these words under my breath to fight off temptation and remember the joy the comes from living the right way.

In darker times, when I have sinned or hurt another, the phrase is a bitter reminder that my disposition is still, sometimes, to do evil. A reminder that I still don't quite grasp the possibilities of the Atonement.

In neutral and good times, I am in awe of the prospect of a disposition that seeks to do good continually. I've met several people like this in my life. They usually are no more that acquaintances (or old friends who have since become acquaintances), since the evil part of my disposition precludes the friendly intimacy that results from doing good in the world together.

Instead, I watch them from afar, basking in their goodness, sometimes yearning to be like them, other times finding their rigid goodness overbearing or pompous. I am not equating rigid goodness with dogmatism, conservatism, or unthinking zealotry. Rather, rigid goodness is a thoughtful and compassionate obedience to all commandments, but especially to those that teach us to love and serve all around us.

That rigidity of purpose and standard is galling to the world in general, but refreshing to its inhabitants. "Therefore, I would that ye should be steadfast and immovable, always abounding in good works..." (v. 15).

In the clinical world, a clinical disposition is what a medical provider determines to be your next steps. For example, if you go to the emergency room, you hope that (after 5 hours of tests) the doctor assigns you a disposition of "discharge" so you can go home rather "admission" or "transfer to psych". It has a sense of inevitability to it.

I want to inevitably be a good servant of the Lord. But I've got a few more tests before the Great Healer assigns my spiritual disposition.