Notes on The Book of Mormon from a Nineteenth Century Perspective: Enos to Mosiah

 Enos:The Wilderness Again

Heading into the wilderness to gain insight is not merely a product of modern life and Sondheim’s Into the Woods. The ancient world is full of gurus stepping away from agricultural and urban centers to find themselves and effect contact with deity.

However, one major difference exists between then and now. For much of history, that stepping away was a risk, challenge, and sacrifice. The praying petitioner was stripped of day-to-day concerns and self-protection. It is possible that hunter-gatherers included iconoclastic members who traveled alone for the fun of traveling alone. It is also possible that such members were considered practically pathological and usually ended up dead.

When Saint Anthony the Great made his way into the “wilderness”—as numerous gurus had done before him—what mattered was the sacrificial nature of the experience. Nature was not one’s friend. Nature was, quite literally, the thing that would end your life.

Charles G Finney

In All the Trouble in the World, P.J. O’Rourke writes about Petrarch’s hike up Mount Ventoux, “During his brief sojourn upon the Ventoux peak, the poet stood astride the medieval and modern ages—the first European to climb a mountain for the heck of it, and the last to feel like a jerk for doing so.”

Joseph Smith

Acclaims to nature exist in early Western and Eastern literature. In one of my master’s courses, the professor and some students tried to convince the rest of us that nobody was awestruck by the Grand Canyon until Western civilization told them they should be. So much nonsense! (And the reason academic theories like CRT are fundamentally bigoted.) Multiple Native American tribes centered their religious ceremonies in the Grand Canyon. They weren’t exactly doing it in the middle of Kansas.

Okay, maybe they did—but my point stands: a remarkable natural occurrence is a remarkable natural occurrence, from waterfalls to the aurora borealis. Observant humans have always commented on nature’s awe-inspiring products—just look at cave paintings.

What changes are the tropes, the ways in which those wonders are addressed. Human beings are social animals. Once one person goes into the wilderness not to be challenged or be put to death but to be inspired and comforted, everybody is going to start going for the same reason.

Both patterns run through the nineteenth century. Jonathan Edwards—despite terrifying a generation of Congregationalists with “Sinners in the Hands of an Angry God”—was a big believer in nature’s spiritual influence. A Puritan’s goal was to undergo a personal conversion and/or reckoning. Nature could help that individual comprehend God’s glory and God’s love.

The connection between contemplation and nature would take off with the Transcendentalists. Though he likely would have disapproved of some of their notions, they are Edwards’ philosophical heirs.

Nineteenth century readers would have related to both purposes attached to nature: inspiration/comfort—personal challenge/sacrifice. Both run through Enos’s experience: sunk deep into my heart, wrestle, hungered, guilt swept away, pour out, struggling, unshaken, labored.

Mosiah 4: The Poor

The opening of Mosiah, Chapter 4 extols grace. Yet verse 24—"I would that ye say in your hearts that: I give not because I have not, but if I had I would give”—returns to what people do with their beliefs.

I have been in Sunday School classes where verse 24 was used to discuss whether or not people should give money to panhandlers. People in favor of the loose change theory of charity spoke up and darted judgmental glances at others. They could glare at me all they wanted--I rarely have cash on me--but I happened to know that one of the recipients of those judgmental glances has, over his lifetime, donated considerable amounts of money to charitable programs in America and other countries. At the time, I was considerably irritated.

Such judgmental members clearly missed the point. The verse rests on a state of mind as much as an act. Previous verses address assumptions made about those in need, concluding, "Are we not all beggars?" (Mosiah 4:19). The one-road-to-charity folks are actually guilty of the very thing the speaker, King Benjamin, is preaching against. You can’t judge someone else’s circumstances based on what you see or assume.

In our social media-obsessed world of labels and insta-judgments, I think this lesson often gets lost.

More importantly, for the purpose of these posts, the world has changed. 

From the ancient world to the early nineteenth century, the number of aid organizations to which one could contribute was far less than now, by a magnitude of a thousand+. Regarding the nineteenth century specifically, charity organizations in the urban environment flourished as the urban environment took hold. The YMCA began in the mid-1800s, the Salvation Army also in the mid-1800s. Soup kitchens came and went but weren’t going strong as regular city institutions until the mid-1800s.

Most charity for most of history was local and church-based. And brought about almost entirely by face-to-face/door-to-door requests. Such efforts did great work! But the fail-safes that modern people take for granted—something as basic as not being sent to jail for debt—didn’t exist. Most people were one harvest away from not being able to feed their families. There is a reason that Pa Ingalls spent a large amount of Laura’s childhood not at home (no, the reality wasn’t like the television show). When a bunch of locusts eat your wheat, you have to go work on the railroad instead.

A descendant of the original soup kitchens.

The middleclass—and the educated middleclass—was growing in the 1800s. But in the 1830s, most people were still laborers or farmers, which means that most people were poor laborers or farmers. Even the “wealthy” people who helped out Joseph Smith were not what we moderns would necessarily deem wealthy.

Nearly all of history is the history of people trying not to starve to death. Big Brother’s game-based control over the refrigerator is more accurate to the human condition than perhaps appreciated. Historical exceptions such as Ancient Egypt (trustworthy harvests; major works projects) are the exceptions that prove the rule.  

It is notable and touching that even in poverty-stricken circumstances, human beings are capable of great nobility and compassion. An examination of Anglo-Saxon skeletons indicates that elderly peasants who could no longer work were still cared for by somebody.

However, being a member of a functional social community, such as a religious community, was and is a huge personal gain in terms of survival. See King Benjamin's citizens, nineteenth-century experimental communities like Oneida, and, eventually, Joseph Smith’s Nauvoo.

Nineteenth-century readers were well-aware of the benefits of such communities. And well-aware of the daily risks they otherwise faced. The reminder to hold one’s fire regarding another person’s circumstances would have hit home.

Mosiah 12 & 13: The Ten Commandments

In Mosiah 12 & 13, Abinadi quotes the Ten Commandments.

In nineteenth-century America, the Decalogue was a link to the Lost Tribes of Israel, a popular topic of the time that I will discuss in a later post. By the 1980s, when I was growing up in the LDS church, speculation about the Lost Tribes of Israel had veered to the polar ice caps (Mormons, after all, had specific beliefs about which tribes made it to America and which did not). But many scholars and religious leaders and archaeologists in the nineteenth century maintained that some or all tribes had made their way to America, bringing with them important wisdom, most specifically the Ten Commandments.

In the aftermath of the Civil War as the United States become home to more immigrants (from the late nineteenth century to the twentieth century), the Ten Commandments were presented as common cultural beliefs, products of what was referred to as "natural law," the idea that humans are born with an innate sense that certain things are right or wrong.* 

The idea was that this natural law--along with archetypes and legends, such as the Founding of Our Country--could bring various religions and sects (and states) together. Hence, the erection of numerous monuments before and after DeMille/Heston's The Ten Commandments. 

However, the first readers of the Book of Mormon (early nineteenth century) would have perceived the Ten Commandments more in terms of their biblical meaning/importance than their cultural purpose. That is, they would have focused on Abinadi's use of the Ten Commandments to make a larger argument--as when he accuses wicked priests of claiming adherence to a set of behaviors they don’t actually practice: “I perceive that they are not written in your hearts” (Mosiah 13:11).

The argument bears resemblance to an interpretation of ancient texts, Jesus’s words, and King Benjamin’s speech, the latter also from The Book of Mormon:

• Michael Coogan argues that the Ten Commandments are likely extremely old. Documentary evidence indicates that they preceded the various versions that appear in the first five Books of Moses. The classically numbered third commandment—commonly presented as “Thou shalt not take the name of the Lord in vain”—is more accurately rendered as “You should not use the name of Yahweh, your god, for nothing.” 

Both books are worth checking out. Joselit

discusses monuments--see above.

Coogan goes on to discuss how ancient religions customarily paired magic with theology. Speaking the name of one’s god was often part of a spell. Coupled with the classically numbered second commandment about idols, the third commandment of the Decalogue tosses out the idea of propitiation through such appeals: “The Israelites’ new god with the mysterious name was not a god who could be controlled by invoking his name in incantations or magic, any more than he could be localized in a statue” (Coogan). Paul, who knew his scriptures, built on this idea.

• Jesus uses the Ten Commandments to make a series of rather sarcastic points. (There is far more sarcasm in the Gospels than may make some religious commentators comfortable—it is a touching indicator that Jesus had a singular personality, though one can’t help but wonder if Heavenly Father turned to Jesus upon the Ascension and said, “You do realize many humans have absolutely no sense of humor. They are going to take a bunch of that stuff you said very, very literally.”)

Don’t commit adultery becomes If your right eye offend thee (with lustful gazes), pluck it out.

Although some scholars perceive Jesus as increasing the rules, I agree with those scholars who argue that Jesus is actually driving home a point that comes up with the Rich Young Man: If you truly think you are already completely righteous for keeping all the commandments, fine—now, try this on. Are you as good as you say? Are you honestly dedicated to what you claim to follow? If you keep pushing the envelope here, you might find that the essence of the law is better than a checklist. Because cutting out your eye is a dumb idea. Instead, try to use thoughtfulness and commonsense to be a decent human being. It’ll be easier.

As David Mitchell states about the eye of the needle directive, “Jesus was being sarky and going, ‘It’s about as easy for a rich man to get into heaven as it is to get a planet into a shoe.’” Trying to bargain will get a believer absolutely nowhere.

• King Benjamin’s speech early in Mosiah presents a series of if…then statements. The “then” statements are often treated as commandments by readers. They are not. They are “fruits” of adhering to the first commandment:

Believe in God; believe that he is, and that he created all things, both in heaven and in earth; believe that he has all wisdom, and all power, both in heaven and in earth; believe that man doth not comprehend all the things which the Lord can comprehend.

Believe that ye must repent of your sins and forsake them, and humble yourselves before God…(Mosiah 4:9, 10)

If you believe—

You will not have a mind to injure others.

You will treat your children well.

You will help others and have a magnanimous attitude. (Mosiah 4)

In sum, the Ten Commandments in The Book of Mormon connect to larger issues of grace and works. Abinadi chastises the learned because they fail to practice what they claim to know/embrace, which chastisement could be taken as an argument in favor of works. However, as detailed above, the overall argument more resembles the points made by Coogan, Jesus, and King Benjamin: the Commandments only have merit as works if they reflect faith-based beliefs as part of character. 

Abinadi then makes an assertion about knowledge/works that would have signaled a battle-cry to nineteenth-century readers, namely a lack of knowledge does not preclude salvation, when he declares without qualification, “Little children also have eternal life” (Mosiah 15:25).

Such a statement may seem a given to readers now—but a gauntlet is being thrown down.

*Coogan argues quite reasonably that the Decalogue specifically references ancient Israelite culture. I think he has a point, but I also I think there is something rather impressive here about what C.S. Lewis referred to as the Tao; throughout history, people have considered certain things good and bad despite what society considers acceptable and non-acceptable. Slavery has sometimes been acceptable but nobody has ever advocated it as a lifestyle; violence was often far more acceptable but few cultures have ever supported violence/betrayal against a friend...and so on.

Mosiah 18: Baptism

Baptism was under debate in the nineteenth century. Was it necessary? Part of admittance into a particular order (and was that necessary)? Did it regenerate the sinner or simply offer the possibility of regeneration? The issue of authority—does a church need educated clergy/bishops to carry out such rituals?—was also under debate.

The issue was of such importance in the nineteenth century that Joseph Smith paused his translation, likely near Mosiah 18 (or earlier)--Oliver Cowdery as scribe--in May 1829 to receive a series of revelations that resulted in baptism by men holding the Aaronic Priesthood.

If one needs to explain Joseph Smith’s ability to attract members, the events here go a long way towards that explanation. Not only does Joseph Smith use The Book of Mormon to inspire him and Oliver Cowdery to direct action, he resolves several issues at once in the form of a straight-forward ritual carried out by ordinary guys who experience a vision. The act and the accompanying ordination back a belief in revelation/divine intervention as well as the position that the gospel is to repentance while baptism is to a remission of sins (baptism remits sins but doesn't accomplish repentance instantly or permanently).

In effect, Joseph Smith pulled together high church and low church approaches—visions, authority, scriptural deference, personal revelation, lay people, rituals, and long-term progress--with one act.

I will post more about Joseph Smith later. For here, I will say, I doubt he was thinking up some Balder-like “cunning plan.” I think his reaction to most religious queries was to go out and make something—if he was a painter, he would have surprised the world with Under the Wave off Kanagawa. If he was a musician, he would have pulled a Beethoven. 

He was an American populist religious leader with a grounding in New England religious thought: therefore, he had wide-reaching revelations that tackled ongoing religious problems.