All those who have traveled on commercial airlines know the instructions: In case of a loss of cabin pressure, put the drop-down mask on yourself first, and then on your child (or companion or others, I presume). The same idea applies to any disaster: secure your own situation first, then help others. This applies to the Novel Coronavirus aka Covid-19 as well.
In honor of the late business professor and Latter-day Saint leader Clayton Christensen, I’ve been reading his book How Will You Measure Your Life? In many ways, the book is a breath of fresh air: instead of giving tactical advice, Christensen focuses on training us how to view and analyze our situations, our intentions, our actions, and our desires — and then devise our own tactics and strategies to become the people we want to be. This sort of metacognition isn’t based solely on anecdotal evidence (hallelujah!) and is broadly applicable outside of the business context. Even better, Christensen focuses on ensuring that his readers achieve success that matters emotionally — that is, not wealth, or power, or status, but deliberately crafting one’s vocation, relationships, and identity. I recommend the book. However, as I read, I detected an assumption that I’ve seen in many Latter-day Saint contexts: that living reflectively and in accordance with our moral principles will, and should, bring improvements in commonly-acknowledged, measurable categories. If we live life properly, work hard, and work smart, we will achieve success on the Lord’s terms: inner peace, meaningful community, financial security (if not prosperity), and fulfilling family relationships. (Here I move beyond Christensen, identifying tropes common enough that I hope I need not exhaust myself in finding illustrations.) There are two issues I can identify with this framework. First, it might incorporate values that shouldn’t necessarily be assumed to be Christian…
I am always interested in seeing how ideas grow, develop, and take shape of the years. I suppose that is part of why I find the study of theology so interesting. As I was studying the “Come, Follow Me” curriculum this last week, it struck me how the sacrament prayers seem to have developed and formulated alongside the Doctrine of Christ in the Book of Mormon. Early in the Book of Mormon, the prophetic triumvirate of Lehi, Nephi, and Jacob propose a controversial change to the traditional Hebrew religion, a change based on their revelations and their understanding of Isaiah that they called the Doctrine of Christ. Towards the end of his record, Nephi summarizes this doctrine as follows: Wherefore, my beloved brethren, can we follow Jesus save we shall be willing to keep the commandments of the Father? … Wherefore, my beloved brethren, I know that if ye shall follow the Son, with full purpose of heart, acting no hypocrisy and no deception before God, but with real intent, repenting of your sins, witnessing unto the Father that ye are willing to take upon you the name of Christ, by baptism—yea, by following your Lord and your Savior down into the water, according to his word, behold, then shall ye receive the Holy Ghost; yea, then cometh the baptism of fire and of the Holy Ghost; and then can ye speak with the tongue of angels, and shout praises unto the Holy One of Israel.[1] There is the nucleus of the future sacrament…
“If you don’t believe in the historicity of the Book of Mormon, then why are you still part of the Church?” Ivan questioned his brother Alexei. The two enjoyed their gospel conversations, though Ivan left the Church years ago. Oddly enough, they agreed on most of the facts, but never on their implications. “I don’t let what I don’t believe get in the way of what I do,” Alexei replied. “Then what do you still believe?” “I know I had a spiritual experience when I read the Book of Mormon. I asked if it was true and I got a strong spiritual confirmation.” “That sounds like you can’t trust your ‘spiritual confirmation,’” Ivan sipped his coffee. “If your ‘spiritual confirmation’ told you that something was true and it turned out that it wasn’t true, then spiritual confirmations aren’t a reliable source of truth. You shouldn’t trust them anymore.” “Not necessarily. It could be that I misinterpreted the meaning of the experience.[1] Perhaps the spiritual confirmation only meant that the Book of Mormon was leading me in the right direction. Maybe God wanted to point me towards the gospel because that would better align my life with his will.” “You really think God would tell you that the Book of Mormon was true just to lead you down the right path? Even if its historical contents were objectively false?” “God allowed the holocaust to happen. I don’t see how letting us…
In a podcast I listened to recently, a man who had left the church described going to sacrament meeting with his still-believing wife and feeling upset at what was said in church. He had come to believe that certain claims that are regularly stated at church were not true, and hearing them was uncomfortable. Initially, I found this idea strange. Why would it be uncomfortable to simply hear someone say something that you don’t believe to be true?
There is the Christian story, and there is the Mormon story; and we understand them to make up a single story. But which story is primary and which secondary? Which is the whole of which the other is a part? Logically and theologically, it seems, the Christian story ought to be primary. The Mormon story presupposes and depends on the Christian story. Put it this way: You can set aside or bracket or reject the Mormon story and still embrace the Christian story. Lots of people do that. It doesn’t work the other way around. Take the Christianity out of Mormon thought and culture, and what of real value would be left? True, not everyone agrees with this point. I’ve known an occasional member who, if I understood correctly, would hold to and emphasize the distinctively Mormon elements (the material from the King Follett discourse, maybe) while deemphasizing or backgrounding the more standard Christian elements. The idea is that Mormonism will eventually stand to Christianity as Christianity stands to Judaism– an idea I associate with the historian Jan Shipps. But this seems an untenable position. What would Mormonism be if you take away our beliefs in the Atonement and the Resurrection? Maybe some project of elevating ourselves through ongoing self-perfecting into some sort of Nietzschean supermen? Except that without the Atonement and Resurrection, how and when would we manage to do this? It looks pretty grotesque. So logically (or if…
It’s a heart wrenching decision. A beggar asks you for money. You remember the words of King Benjamin: “Ye will not suffer that the beggar putteth up his petition to you in vain.”[1] You also remember Christ’s commandment to feed the hungry, take in the stranger, and clothe the naked.[2] At the same time, you have practical concerns about how the money would be used. A 2002 questionnaire of 54 panhandlers in Toronto found that the median monthly budget of panhandlers was $200 for food, $112 for tobacco, $80 for alcohol and other illicit drugs and $120 for all other items.[3] In the last twelve months, 93% reported tobacco use, 37% reporting cocaine use, 9% reporting heroin use, and 80% reporting alcohol use.[4] Of those that reported alcohol use, 26% reporting daily alcohol consumption, 28% reporting alcohol consumption 1-6 times per week.[5] When you see these statistics, you may feel justified if you refuse a beggar. You might say, “there are better ways to help the less fortunate.” That may be true, but that excuse only works if you find and a better alternative. If not, you are simply justifying yourself in sin (unless you do not have the means).[6] So what are the alternatives? Should you ever give to panhandlers? How well are LDS Christians fulfilling their obligations to the poor? Fast Offerings and Humanitarian Aid For LDS Christians, the obvious place to start is by donating a generous…
This week, the American Choral Directors Association is meeting in Salt Lake City, so choral music is on my mind. While my career isn’t in music, it’s an art form that plays an important role in my life. I have some training in piano, choral performance, and organ while my wife was trained in vocal performance. We’ve spent most of our married life in music-related callings as a result. It’s not a stretch to say that leading a ward choir is, perhaps, the most rewarding and most difficult of the music callings we’ve been involved in. Few people want to put in the extra time at Church or (especially if young children are involved) feel like they can do so, which means that ward choirs are often small. Budgets are limited, so finding music that is usable in sacrament meetings can be difficult. Luckily, however, there is an ever-growing corpus of free or inexpensive choir music available for Latter-day Saint ward choirs online, and my goal here is to gather a good list of those resources into one place here.[1] One of the newest sites to join this list is Ronald Staheli’s sheet music site. Staheli is an internationally known and respected choral conductor who retired a few years ago from leading choirs at Brigham Young University. Apparently, he’s spent a fair amount of time during retirement focusing on writing music for ward choirs. Launched just a few months ago,…
Times & Seasons is pleased to welcome Michael Haycock as our latest guest blogger. Michael was primarily raised in Northwest Ohio and served his mission in Argentina. After graduating with a B.A. in political science from Yale University, he received an M.A. in religion (American religious history) from Claremont Graduate University, where he wrote his thesis on 19th century Mormon masculinity. Having seen the academic job market, he spent several years working for small lobbying firms in Washington, D.C., before accepting a position earlier this year with Georgetown University’s Campus Ministry. He lives in Northern Virginia, where he continues to engage on the periphery of LDS academia.
While I was at BYU years ago one of my best friends asked me to go with him and his wife to Cedar City to the Utah Shakespearean Festival. His wife’s father had served a mission with the founder, Fred Adams, and her family had gone frequently over the years since Adams founded the festival. Thirty-four years later, I still go to the festival each summer with the same group of friends. So when I learned that Fred Adams passed away February 5th at the age of 89, I mourned because of his influence on my life. I was particularly impressed by the human Fred Adams portrayed at his funeral. Fred’s passing is just the most recent of six that have had an impact on me over the past year. I have long admired Fred’s vision and persistence in creating an institution that benefits the lives of hundreds of thousands. Part of me has a longing to create something as significant as the Utah Shakespeare Festival. His death followed close on the passing of Clayton Christensen. He too was someone lauded as much for how he treated the individual as his accomplishments. [I found this podcast tribute notable for pointing out that Christensen practiced what he preached at work as well as at Church.] Like Adams, I admired Christensen for his accomplishments and for his integrity. These losses were significantly less personal than others I experienced. Last year a neighbor,…
This year has been marked out as a bicentennial celebration of the year Joseph Smith experienced the First Vision. President Russell M. Nelson invited us to “immerse yourself in the glorious light of the Restoration,” offering the suggestion to “begin your preparation by reading afresh Joseph Smith’s account of the First Vision as recorded in the Pearl of Great Price.” While he specifically mentions the official account of the First Vision as a starting point, President Nelson encourages each of us to go on from that account and do more study: “Select your own questions. Design your own plan. Act on any of these invitations to prepare yourself.”[1] As part of my own study of the First Vision, I reviewed all the primary accounts of the event to see what could be gleaned from them about what the messages of the vision were. Based on documents we have available, my feelings are that the First Vision was primarily a conversion experience for Joseph Smith and a confirmation that a general apostasy had occurred. In looking at all of the contemporary accounts of the First Vision, the only messages that God presented to Joseph Smith were that (1) God forgave his sins, (2) a general apostasy had occurred, (3) Joseph Smith shouldn’t join any existing churches, (4) Joseph Smith would learn the fullness of the gospel later on, and (5) the Second Coming would occur soon. There are corollaries that can…
My friend Sam called me yesterday and he came right to the point. “I’ve been reading your report of our conversation last week, and I’ve also been reading some of the responses, and I think that there is some confusion that I would like to clear up.” “What do you mean?” I asked. “Well, you remember that I took the view that even in the worst case hypothetical scenario– even if it could somehow be proven that Joseph Smith’s claims were fraudulent– there would still be good reason for people to remain faithful members of the church. The church’s teachings about God and Christ and salvation– and how to live– would still be true. The fellowship and service would still be uplifting. And so forth.” “Yes, I remember.” “Well, a common refrain among the commenters was that the historical claims are our basis for believing what the church teaches, so if those claims were disproven we’d no longer have any reason to put any trust in those teachings, or in the church.” “The commenters raised a lot of different points. But I think that was one of them, yes.” “And I think that’s a mistake. I think it reflects a fundamentally mistaken view of how and why we believe.” “How so?” “Here’s one way of putting the point. The picture in that objection is of a prophet– Elijah, Joseph Smith, Thomas S. Monson– who comes proffering his prophetic credentials and…
We all know that the defining sin of the Nephites was pride. But what about the defining sin of the Lamanites? From the very beginning of the Book of Mormon, Nephi focuses on one particular vice. “[A]fter they had dwindled in unbelief” the Lamanites became “full of idleness and all manner of abominations.”[1] He later calls them an “idle people.”[2] When the Anti-Nephi-Lehies famously buried their weapons of war, they also made a covenant that “rather than their days in idleness they would labor abundantly with their hands.”[3] The Lamanites’ sin of idleness is, in fact, the mirror image of the Nephites’ sin of pride. The Nephites successfully overcame the sin of idleness, but then used their surplus “despising others, turning their backs upon the needy, and the naked and those who were hungry, and those who were athirst, and those who were sick and afflicted.”[4] What is worse: spending the days of your probation pursuing “treasures on earth”[5] or idling it away?[6] It doesn’t really make a difference to the people you could have helped. The sheep don’t care if you forgot to feed them because you were too selfish or because you were too lazy; either way they don’t get fed. It’s the spiritual equivalent of choosing your Mammon in the form of extra vacation days or a cash payment. What’s the 21st century equivalent to spending our days in idleness? It’s allowing the “next episode” timer to…
Times and Seasons hopes you will join us in welcoming our latest guest blogger, William Barlow. He is an attorney and graduate of Harvard Law School, where he regularly wrote for the Harvard Law Record, including a guest appearance on Fox News Business. William received his undergraduate degree in history from Duke University. Following law school, William was an M&A attorney at a New York law firm for over three years before transitioning to North Carolina.
For all their differences, the essential and irreducible historical dilemma of the Old Testament, New Testament, and Book of Mormon is very much the same.
In the neighborhood where I grew up, there was a yard that had landscaping that baffled me. It was a grassy plain with a few small trees, and then about a half-dozen boulders scattered among the grass. The boulders were what baffled me—they didn’t seem to fit in with the landscaping around them and they certainly made mowing the lawn more complicated than it otherwise would have been. I’m sure they made sense to the person who put them there, but as far as I could see, it seemed like the homeowners had survived a meteor shower and then decided to live around the scattered meteorites rather than remove them from their yard. Up until recently, I felt much the same way about the Isaiah chapters in 1 Nephi and 2 Nephi. They seemed like meteorites dropped into the middle of the text, or perhaps strange filler episodes that didn’t help move the plot forward. When I came across them, I generally acknowledged that they were Isaiah, skimmed over them and moved on without trying to understand how they fit into the rest of what Nephi was saying. Watching me read Isaiah in the Book of Mormon would have resembled watching my neighbors mow around the boulders in their yard. That may be a show of my own failings in approaching the scriptures, but I suspect that I’m not alone in taking that approach. Lately, however, I’ve been trying to…
My friend Sam and his family came over yesterday evening; and after dinner Sam and I, social misfits that we are, slunk off and went out on the deck to talk. (Yes, it’s February, but it’s also San Diego.) We started off wondering whether BYU’s narrow one-point win last Saturday over lowly USD (my school) would hurt their chances of making the NCAA tournament. But then somehow the conversation wound around to people we know who have “left the Church,” as we say, because of doubts about Joseph Smith. In a couple of cases these were seemingly faithful members, and their departures have had painful consequences both for their families and for their own lives. I commented that this seemed sad, and Sam said, “Yes. Tragic, really, because so unnecessary.” “Unnecessary why? Because there are satisfying answers to the questions about Joseph Smith?” “There may be,” Sam said. “But even if there aren’t, that’s not a good reason to leave the Church.” “I’m surprised to hear you say that,” I answered. “I didn’t take you for one of these ‘Mormon is who I am, doesn’t matter whether it’s true’ members.” “I’m not,” said Sam. “Truth is the essential thing. It’s just that the truths of the Church and the Gospel aren’t dependent on the truth of claims about Joseph Smith. Joseph isn’t like Jesus. We never believed that we are saved through Joseph Smith. Joseph was just a messenger. What…
The second volume of the Church’s official history, Saints: No Unhallowed Hand, 1846-1893 was released this Wednesday. I just finished blitzing through the book and wanted to share my thoughts on the volume. These official histories walk a tightrope, balancing a lot of goals at one time. This volume, for example, covers approximately 50 years of well-documented history in less than 700 pages in ways that are open, accurate, and truthful while remaining faith promoting and doing so in an engaging and readable manner. That’s a tall order to achieve all those requirements at one time. Having finished reading it, however, I can say that I am pleased overall with the end results and enjoyed reading the book. Volume 2 of the series covers the years 1846-1893. This is the time period when Latter-day Saints left the Midwestern United States en masse and settled the arid region of the Great Basin. Missionaries went abroad throughout the world and converts worked to immigrate to Utah to join their fellow Saints, make the desert blossom as a rose, and build temples. Along the way, the difficult issue of plural marriage challenged the faithful, both because it was difficult to embrace the principle and because of stringent opposition from the federal government of the United States of America. The book explores these narratives through the eyes of individuals who lived at those times, with individuals like Louisa Barnes Pratt, George Q. Cannon, Jane…
I happened to run into my friend Sam a couple of days ago in the food line at Costco, and his first words were, “I’ve been diligently reading your posts on Times and Seasons.” “Thanks,” I said. “I only said I’ve been reading them. I didn’t say I liked them.” “So you didn’t like them?” “Well, some of them have been . . . interesting. But you’re dodging and dancing around the elephant in the room.” “That would be quite a feat,” I said. “But what do you mean? What elephant?” “The elephant,” Sam said obscurely, “is the prevailing paradigm. It isn’t viable anymore. And what you can’t bring yourself to say is that we need to be prepared to enter into the Fourth Age of the Church.” “Well, that sounds pretty portentous, but you’ll have to explain. What is ‘the prevailing paradigm’? And the Fourth Age? I suppose the first three were, maybe, the primitive church of the Apostles; and then the medieval church . . . .” “No, no,” Sam interrupted. “I’m not talking about Christianity in general. I’m talking about our Church. The Mormon Church. The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.” We reached the front of the line, paid for our hotdogs, then sat down together at one of those metal picnicky tables. “To understand what I mean,” Sam continued, “you need to remember the idea of paradigm shifts. Some dominant model or theory or…
The tree of life and its fruit mean many things to many different people. Immortality, eternal life, the presence of God, and Jesus the Christ are all important meanings of the tree in our tradition, but many more could be stated. Among Christians, one prominent meaning of the tree of life is as a symbol of the Christ. One way in which this is the case was hinted at when the apostle Peter spoke of Jesus’s death and crucifixion as being “killed by hanging him on a tree.”[1] The cross is referred to as a tree elsewhere in the New Testament as well, and, as C. Wilfred Griggs wrote, “Some have noticed that the Greek word used in these passages is the same as that used for the tree of life in the Septuagint, different from the usual New Testament word for tree. According to a number of sources, some early Christians thought of the cross as a tree of life.”[2] The tree and its fruit can be seen as a symbol of Jesus the Christ. The New Testament references to the cross as a tree took root and caused some commentary among Christians about the cross being the tree of life. For example, St. John of Damascus wrote that: “The tree of life which was planted by God in Paradise pre-figured this precious Cross. For since death was by a tree, it was fitting that life and resurrection should be…
The story has been told and retold. An earnest young man, intent on escaping the confusion of the world around him, seeks a secluded place to pray, hoping to receive divine guidance. And while praying, he receives a remarkable revelation from God– a commission, really, to restore the church. I’m referring, of course, to Francis of Assisi. Sensing the futility of the world of businessmen (like his father), of troubadours (whom he had admired), and of soldiers (he had been one), Francis retired to the old church at San Damiano to pray. As he was praying, he heard a voice emanating from the crucifix that said, three times,“Francis, go and repair my church, which as you see is all in ruins.” Francis understood this instruction to refer to the crumbling building in which he was praying, and so in the ensuing days he worked to physically repair that structure. But he gradually was led to understand that the commission was a more expansive one. And thus he came to organize the Franciscan order of friars that, accompanied by numerous miracles and heavenly visitations, spread throughout the world, preaching the Gospel and setting an example of sanctity, simplicity, and humility. And of praise: “All creatures of our God and King/ Lift up your voice . . . .” Some elements of the St. Francis story as it has been passed down clearly have a legendary feel to them. (The famous story…
Overheard while eavesdropping in the Deseret Diner: First speaker (let’s call him Adam): I’m not a member of your church, as you know, but I’ve lived among Mormons for most of my life, talked with missionaries, attended lots of meetings with friends. Done a lot of reading. There’s so much I admire about your church– its moral teachings, its family life, its community. And its genuine faith in Jesus Christ. (I’m an Evangelical, and this is important to me.) I don’t know of a church these days that does as much to spread the basic Gospel message– through your missionaries and on-line videos and all. But there’s one thing about Mormons that really bothers me– that is, your insistence that yours is “the only true church,” as I’ve often heard it put. Why do you have to say that? Mormons are annoyed when some Evangelicals say that you’re aren’t Christians. And understandably so. But don’t you see that you provoke this, and that you’re basically doing the same thing, when you say that yours is the only true church– or at least the only church with “the fullness of the Gospel”– and that in order to achieve exaltation everyone will have to join your church, in the next world if not in this one? This tenet actually undermines your efforts to spread the basic Christian message, I think, because people see your Christian videos or whatever and think, “That’s good,…
One of the major points of discussion in recent weeks is over an error in the printed “Come, Follow Me” manual. A Joseph Fielding Smith quote with racist content was included in the discussion of 2 Nephi 5 and it was only noted that it does not accurately reflect Church doctrine after the manuals were printed. The decision was made to change the digital version of the material but to send out the manuals as printed, with the belief that most members would be using the digital version. Church statements to the press have focused on re-affirming that Church rejects racism in any form and disavows racist teachings. At a meeting of the NAACP in Utah, Elder Gary E. Stevenson expressed that the quote was a mistake and that he wants members to disregard the printed version. He also stated that: “I’m deeply saddened and hurt by this error and for any pain that it may have caused our members and for others.”[1] It’s been an issue that has fed into the ongoing discussion of the Church’s efforts to deal with racism. Now, there are many unresolved questions with this error. For example, what exactly is the review process for the “Come, Follow Me” manuals and how did the quote pass inspection? Will the official institute manual for the Book of Mormon also be updated to remove the quote?[2] Will the Church tell members to disregard the printed version via…
I hope I’m not abusing my privileges as a guest blogger with this post, which is not critical or intellectual but more in the inspirational vein. To me, the post is not unrelated to discussions we’ve been having on this blog. In previous posts I’ve referred more than once to a conviction that God is at work in this Church. Without that conviction, what would be the point of making the effort to try to work out some of the difficulties we’ve been discussing here? Still, I admit that the main reason for posting this is just that a man wrote up his testimony and earnestly wanted to share it, and I thought that some readers might appreciate that testimony, as I did. So let me introduce Arnold, who is an inmate at Donovan state prison, near San Diego, about a five minute drive from the Mexican border. Arnold is tall, fiftyish, African-American, thoughtful, well-spoken, with a resonant voice: the first time I met him, a little over two years ago, I told him he should be on the radio, and he said he’d been told that more than once. I could say more about how I admire Arnold, but let me just say that he is a blessing to other inmates and that I never talk with him without feeling uplifted. Arnold composed this testimony and delivered it in the D Yard chapel at an interfaith Day of Peace…
I teach nine-year-olds for Primary, and I’ve started composing new verses to the old primary song Book of Mormon Stories as a way to recap the events before we get into discussion and activities. Here are four verses (which are arguably terrible but also instructive: I’m clearly not a songwriter) that go along with tomorrow’s Come, Follow Me lesson for 1 Nephi 16-22. At the end of many lines are optional interjections (in the style of “Rudolph, the Red-Nosed Reindeer“). I share them in case they might be useful for primary or family lessons tomorrow. The Liahona Lehi and Sariah needed guidance on their way. (in the wilderness) One day Lehi left his tent right at the break of day. (good morning!) There was a ball outside, and it did show them the way. (how curious!) The Liahona led if they lived righteously. Nephi’s Bow Nephi and his brothers went out hunting to find food. (delish!) Nephi broke his bow and his whole family did boo. (boo!) Nephi built a new bow, asked his dad where he should go. Lehi prayed, Nephi hunted, they all ate. (yay!) Building the Ship Then the Lord called Nephi, told him he should build a ship. (wow!) His brothers did make fun of him so that working they could skip. (lazy!) Nephi did remind them of all that the Lord can do! (miracles!) They got mad, then got shocked, and helped grudgingly. (fine!)…
When I signed on to be a guest blogger, I didn’t anticipate writing a post like this one. But several comments on earlier posts have pushed me to say a few words in behalf of sin, . . . or at least of sinfulness, . . . or at least of recognizing the pervasive reality of sinfulness. More specifically, in response to the question of what it is essential to believe in order to count oneself a Christian and a Latter-day Saint, several commenters recently suggested that the answer might be simply: love. Loving God and loving our neighbor. This is surely an appealing position. After all, people disagree about lots of things, but no one is against love. (Or at least hardly anyone. Nietzsche, maybe? And Satan, obviously.) And, the scriptures clearly teach that God is love, and that the two great commandments are to love God and to love our neighbor. Might it be that, as the song says, “Love is all you need”? The suggestion reminds me of a talk I heard last year by a Catholic scholar whom I admire tremendously. She is properly concerned about how the Christian message can be made more accessible and appealing, especially to younger generations. (Younger than me, anyway, which will include most of the people on this planet.) And she suggested that Christians need to emphasize the positive, joyous aspects of the faith, and to back off from presenting…
In a ward council meeting a few years ago, someone mentioned that Brother So-and-So was struggling with doubts about the Book of Mormon. “Tell him to stop worrying about that,” the bishop said, “and think about what the Church does for him in his life.” This bishop (whom I dearly love) was a sort of down-to-earth, commonsensical fellow, and I thought this was wise advice, although– or maybe because– the instruction was ambiguous. It might have meant something like “If Brother So-and-So reflects on the blessings that the Church brings to his life, he will come to realize that this is a divine work, and thus that the Book of Mormon is true.” Or the bishop’s instruction might have meant something like “If the Church is helping him live a good life and get closer to God, it doesn’t ultimately matter whether the Book of Mormon is true or not.” (I doubt that the bishop had ever considered or even heard of the idea of the Book of Mormon as non-historical scripture.) The beautiful thing about the bishop’s advice was that different members with different understandings of the Book of Mormon could accept the wisdom of appreciating the blessings the Gospel brings and not getting hung up on doubts. But what if someone had reported that Sister Such-and-Such was struggling with doubts about the Resurrection. Would it be sound advice to say, “Tell her to stop worrying about that and…
Truman G. Madsen once wrote: “Religious literature, ancient and modern, is replete with images of a tree of life that is to be planted in a goodly land by a pure stream. Some typologies regard it as the link at the very navel of the earth—the source of nourishment between parent and child—and place it at the temple mount in Jerusalem, where heaven and earth meet. The fruit of this tree is most precious.”[1] The tree of life is often portrayed as a tree from heaven, a symbol of paradise or of God’s presence itself. Hence, it is fitting that imagery of the tree of life is often present in the temples—places where heaven and earth meet. The tree of life tends to be found in places where God is present. An interesting article published in the Ensign years ago observed: “Tree of life symbolism permeates the Old Testament. The tree symbolizes not only eternal life but also God’s presence. For example, Adam and Eve’s exclusion from the tree was also exclusion from the presence of the Lord. Thus, whenever man regained God’s presence, a tree of life representation was used to symbolize that reunion.”[2] The initial tree of life is found in the Garden of Eden, where Adam and Eve “heard the sound of the Lord God walking the garden” (Genesis 3:8). When they were cast out from the garden and the tree, they were “cut off both temporally…
Call him Ishmael. The man has been coming to church with the missionaries for six or eight months now, and he seems a bit different from other investigators and recent converts we’ve seen in our ward. Most of these people have been, let us say, humble in their financial circumstances and educational attainments. Ishmael, by contrast, seems like someone who will not be needing welfare assistance: he is a doctor, mid-30s, good health, thoughtful and well-spoken. Before today, you had introduced yourself to Ishmael but had not talked with him at any length. But as it happens, it’s the third Sunday of the month, and you and I find ourselves seated next to Ishmael at the “Linger Longer” in the cultural hall after the meeting block. Following a bit of friendly conversation, you feel bold enough to ask: “So, Ishmael, you’ve been coming to church for a while, and we love having you here. Have you given any thought to . . . being baptized?” “Of course,” he says. “A lot of thought. Hmm. . . . Part of me really wants to belong to this community. Not because I need a social group or anything– I’m actually more of an introvert– but because, well . . . I hope this doesn’t sound overly dramatic, but I really feel the presence of God here. In your testimony meetings, in your interactions with each other. I think that belonging to this…
In Matthew 13, Jesus compares the kingdom of heaven to a mustard seed which, though tiny, grows into a tree in which the birds can nest. A verse later, Jesus compares the kingdom to yeast that the baker “hid” in a loaf of bread, causing the bread to rise. The comparisons seem to reflect quite different conceptions. In one, the kingdom is large and conspicuous, visibly structuring and supporting those who knowingly depend on it. In the other, the kingdom is a tiny and mostly imperceptible part of the mix. It is not and will never become a very substantial part of the product: the bread will be mostly composed of flour, sugar, water. Not of yeast– a loaf of bread consisting mostly of yeast would be inedible. And yet the yeast– and the kingdom?– will have an essential influence that permeates the whole, quietly lifting and sustaining it. From the outset, it seems, in thinking of the Latter-day kingdom, Church members have embraced the mustard seed/tree conception. Expectations were high, even grandiose. A striking instance is the proclamation written by the Twelve Apostles in 1845 and addressed “To all the kings of the world, to the president of the United States of America; to the governors of the several states and to the rulers and people of all nations.” The proclamation in effect audaciously announced, and demanded acknowledgment of, a new sovereign. “Therefore we send unto you with authority…
