In defense of praying for humility

So there's a proverb in the church, sometimes tongue-in-cheek, sometimes not, that says that you should not pray for humility because then you might get it. I remember missionaries in the MTC and in the mission field who would repeat this without any sense of irony at all as though they actually believed it. Yesterday it was repeated over the pulpit.

I have a problem with that.

It reminds me of Augustine's prayer (Give me chastity, but not yet!). It's a rather selfish attitude, really. It's an attitude of fear, fear of being humbled. But what if what you really need is humility? Then you shouldn't pray for it because being humbled might be hard? Doesn't all repentance have the same potential to be hard? If I pray for charity, what's to say that I won't have to go through something difficult to learn charity? Why is a plea for humility any more susceptible to hard answers than a plea for any other trait of a Christian life? What if pride is the reason I have a hard time learning charity? Should I then not pray for charity because I might have to be humbled to get it?

And it takes a odd view about what it means to be humbled. It assumes that being compelled to be humble is something that will only happen to you if you pray for it. That ignores reality. Most people in the world live lives that make our North American lifestyle look like the height of luxury. Alma said this:

it is because that ye are cast out, that ye are despised of your brethren because of your exceeding poverty, that ye are brought to a lowliness of heart; for ye are necessarily brought to be humble. And now, because ye are compelled to be humble blessed are ye; for a man sometimes, if he is compelled to be humble, seeketh repentance; and now surely, whosoever repenteth shall find mercy; and he that findeth mercy and endureth to the end the same shall be saved. (Alma 32:12-13)

I find it interesting that Alma uses the word necessarily, like it was some incontrovertible decree. Is it likely that the people Alma was talking to had asked to be humbled? Some of them, maybe, but not all. (See verse 25). It happened to them anyway. Do we really think that the majority of the world's population that lives in "exceeding poverty" got where they are because they made the dumb mistake of praying for humility? How arrogant is it to think that not asking for humility is going to stop anyone from being "necessarily brought to be humble"?

Compulsion to humility is not a bad thing. Why do we talk about it like it is? Alma calls it a blessing. Why in the world would be ever tell anyone not to seek repentance? But isn't that essentially what we do when we repeat the maxim: don't pray for humility?

But telling someone not to pray for humility goes beyond just being afraid of being compelled to be humble. It actually increases the need to be compelled to be humble. Alma also said this:

And now, as I said unto you, that because ye were compelled to be humble ye were blessed, do ye not suppose that they are more blessed who truly humble themselves because of the word? Yea, he that truly humbleth himself, and repenteth of his sins, and endureth to the end, the same shall be blessed—yea, much more blessed than they who are compelled to be humble because of their exceeding poverty. Therefore, blessed are they who humble themselves without being compelled to be humble. (Alma 32:14-15)

What does it mean to humble oneself? If it is done sincerely, isn't a prayer for humility an act of humbling oneself? If so, then doesn't refusing to pray for humility actually make me more likely to have to be compelled to be humble? Not only is it selfish, it is ultimately self-defeating. It brings on the very consequences it sulkily seeks to avoid.

And given the interrelation between humility and charity, teaching that we should not pray for humility runs the risk of directly naysaying one of the most sublime injunctions of the Christian life:

pray unto the Father with all the energy of heart, that ye may be filled with this love, which he hath bestowed upon all who are true followers of his Son, Jesus Christ; that ye may become the sons of God; that when he shall appear we shall be like him, for we shall see him as he is; that we may have this hope; that we may be purified even as he is pure. (Moroni 7:48)

Those of use who claim to understand and believe the Book of Mormon should be the last people to breathe a discouraging word about praying for humility.

The best Joseph

Followers of Mormon film are aware of the difficulty of casting and playing the role of Joseph Smith, the prophet. It is somewhat similar to Richard Bushman's dilemma in writing a Joseph Smith biography. (See the preface to Rough Stone Rolling.) No matter what you do with the role, someone will be disappointed. The zealously faithful will complain that it wasn't laudatory enough. The cynics and skeptics will claim that it's too hagiographic. If you split the difference, everyone will complain that it is boring and stale.

Fortunately, the church has gotten better at casting the prophet's role over the years. I think it's safe to say that the recent (within the last two years or so) film is probably the best church-produced Joseph Smith picture and Nate did the best job of playing Joseph.

Part of the problem in playing Joseph Smith is that the man is a bundle of paradox. You have to be a mystic, but you have to be a down-to-earth Yankee and a frontier mayor. You have to be a visionary, but also a wrestler. You have to be a radical and also a man of power. It can seem schizophrenic. Mormons who play the prophet are even more keenly afflicted by the paradox, even if they are not conscious of it. The result can be paralyzing. Another problem is that for us Mormons, there is often so much emotion involved that you can easily get an over-the-top beyond Kenneth Branaugh-style portrayal---so emotionally charged that it borders on manipulative.

Non-LDS actors fare a bit better. Paradoxically, because they don't have the intimate personal experience with Joseph's legacy that Mormons do, they are not bound by the awful burden of trying to portray revelation---which no tongue can tell---on screen.

Oddly enough, my opinion is that the best Joseph Smith on the screen was Vincent Price in the 1940 picture Brigham Young. What I like about Price's acting is that he is otherworldly and mystic (this is Vincent Price, after all), but in a subtle and guileless, and natural way. He doesn't use overmuch emotion. He keeps it cool and collected, but not spookily so. He also portrays the friendship that Joseph had with his friends. Mormon Joseph's too often have had some kind of sacred distance between them and the rest of the cast that gets in the way. (Although more recently, this is better).

And a few years back there was the rumor that Richard Dutcher was going to bill Val Kilmer in his treatment of the prophet's life. Who knows how that would have gone. I'm inclined to think he'd do okay with it, but I think his performance would be more physical. I'm not convinced of his ability to really capture the charisma, though.

But if I could pick someone that would have played Joseph well but never did, I would have to pick Gene Wilder. Yes, yes, I know, that sounds absurd. But hear me out. Think of Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. Maybe this is just because when I was young I saw an awful portrayal of Joseph Smith in a very low-budget 1970s-era BYU student production. At the end of the film, a dead Josph Smith appears to Brigham Young in vision wearing, of all things, a purple tuxedo. Maybe it was this association between Joseph Smith and purple tuxedos that makes me think Gene Wilder would do a good job.

But think of Wilder's Willy Wonka. A man full of secrets, a man who loves children, values loyalty, a man who loves creativity. A visionary man who creates whole worlds in his factory. And think of Joseph Smith, a man who likewise revealed worlds, a man who loved to innovate, and who, like Willy Wonka, envisioned sending the fruits of his visions to bring joy to the whole world.

The chocolate factory itself (at least in the version Wilder appears in) is in some ways like the temple. You can't get in without a golden ticket (though, of course, the qualifications for getting one are just a little different from the temple recommend). Once inside you can't go anywhere unless directed. You are essentially taken on a journey by your guide through different worlds. There is a sin, some forbidden thing is taken, and it is only through admitting guilt and accepting responsibility that reconciliation with the creator can be achieved.

Yes, of course, that's a strained analogy. And yes, of course, I'm being half facetious. But when I say that Gene Wilder would have been a good Joseph Smith, I'm only half joking. I think he could have done it.

The Center Place

Romney raised some eyebrows a few months back when George Stephenopobopobopolous asked him about the Mormon belief that Jesus, at some point during his second coming, will end up in central Missouri. Romney responded that no, he believes, just like all good Bible-belt evangelical Christians, that Jesus' second coming will be in Jerusalem.

In reality, both Romney and that journalist with the hard-to-spell Greek name were hedging a little bit. It is true that Joseph Smith and others have taught that the Savior will be in Missouri when he comes again. However, he and others also taught that the Savior will come to Jerusalem. It is generally assumed that he will initially appear at Jerusalem, and then come to this continent, but the exact chronology is not a defined point in Mormon doctrine or theology. The problem for some was that they felt like Romney was being less than honest, and trying too hard to look like a typical Southern evangelical Christian (i.e. Republican voter).

But whatever you think about that, the idea that Joseph Smith taught is intriguing in its own right. Essentially, it is that Adam-ondi-Ahman, or the place where Adam and Eve went when they were kicked out of Eden, is near a farm in Northwestern Missouri. It is also taught that this place will also be the place of a great reunion meeting attended by Jesus, a resurrected Adam, and others. (See Doctrine and Covenants 116). It is extrapolated that since the place where Adam and Eve ended up was in Northwestern Missouri, than the Garden of Eden was also nearby. Recently, this article chronicled the quest of one non-Mormon to find the Garden of Eden. The tone is somewhat flippantly glib, but the article itself is interesting. (The one thing I find odd is that the author seems compelled to include the hair color of every sister missionary he meets).

Yes, the Mormon beliefs about Adam-ondi-Ahman seem strange. But I love them. What I think is so cool here is the idea of center places. The Holy Land---Jersualem, Mt. Moriah, Arauna's threshing floor, Sinai, Eden---was considered in early and medieval Christianity and Judaism to be the center of the world. Early mapmakers, influenced by this idea, called that area the "earth's middle" or medi-terranean. It is said that Jerusalem was "the navel of the world," the place where humanity would receive constant nourishment from the heavens. (Incidentally, the term "navel of the world" is not unique to Jerusalem. The same term has been used to describe temples, altars, and significant cities throughout the world, including, the Temple and Oracle at Delphi, the Incan Temple of Cuzco, the ancient city of Rome, and even Easter Island.)

When most Christians lived in the near east, proximity to these ancient sites was a fact of life. But as Christianity became a western European phenomenon, it gradually removed itself from its past and in the process became less and less literal and more and more ethereal. As Christianity moved from Europe to America, some Christians tried to recover the past. The pilgrim fathers were obsessed with overlaying their present on the pattern of the Biblical archive, comparing their journey across the sea to the Exodus, and calling themselves God's people---the "shining city on the hill," even taking some of their penal codes right out of Leviticus. The Salem Witch Trials were at least in part, precipitated by a desire to literally obey Exodus 22:18. You see the same attitudes early in the book of Mormon, where Nephi constantly compares himself and his father's family to Moses and Israel, and Laban to Pharaoh.

In the Book of Mormon, the importance of recovering the past is illustrated by the fact that even after traveling quite some distance, Lehi's son's were asked to go back for the historical record. They probably knew the stories, at least the most important ones, and probably could have written them down themselves. After all, Nephi did have to learn himself how to make metal records. It was apparently important not just to have a written record, but to maintain some physical connection to the past itself. The necessity of this connection comes into focus when Lehi's family runs into the Mulekites, who had failed to recover their past and as a result, their language had become corrupted.

The cool thing about Joseph Smith's Adam-ondi-Ahman teachings, though, is that they recover the past---or perhaps restore the past---much more completely than these earlier attempts. In addition to the restoration of authority, doctrine, ordinances, etc., Joseph also restored the proximity to antiquity that was enjoyed by early Christians. Consider the juxtaposition of cosmic center place and quotidian courthouse in this revelation: "Behold, the place which is now called Independence is the center place; and a spot for the temple is lying westward, upon a lot which is not far from the courthouse" (Doctrine and Covenants 57:3). Instead of placing Eden at the center place of what was the known world a few millenia B.C., Joseph placed it at the center of his world, the new world, which is also my world. And that is cool.

Seeking by study and by faith in Nauvoo.

We visited Nauvoo last weekend. Being only half a day's drive away and having Grandparents (free lodging and food) left us with little reason not to do it eventually. Last weekend we had the time, and we availed ourselves.

We saw the LDS sites Saturday. Sunday we drove down to see Carthage (also run by the LDS church). Monday we saw a few LDS sites in the morning before taking the Community of Christ tour in the afternoon. At the LDS sites we saw the blacksmith shop, the family living center (demonstrations on how they made bread, rope, rugs, baskets, etc.), the Heber C. Kimball Home, the Wilford Woodruff home, the Brigham Young home, and the Sarah Granger home. We also saw a play put on by the performing missionaries at the visitor's center and went on a wagon ride around old Nauvoo. The LDS sites are open on a walk-in basis, which gives a lot of freedom to the visitor to be flexible with what he wants to see. The Community of Christ sites (with the exception of the Red Brick Store) are open only as part of a tour of the whole area. The tour starts off in the visitors center, goes to see the graves of Joseph, Hyrum, and Emma Smith, then to the Smith Homestead, then to the Nauvoo House, then the Mansion House, and ends at the Red Brick Store.

Dave had a good post over at T&S about what goes into the management of historical sites. It's worth reading and leads one to appreciate the complexity of that job and the relative competence with which it is done. Right now, though, I'm more intrigued by the differences in historical presentation between the two latter-day saint tradition churches in Nauvoo.

I.
First the LDS sites. The one difference between the LDS sites in Nauvoo and other church history sites I've seen is that this time the missionaries made no effort to get us to fill out referral cards. I heard at least two missionaries specifically say that the Nauvoo Mission is a mission more to "strengthen the members" than to proselyte. I wonder if this is a recent change in emphasis. Other than that, it was pretty much what you see at most Church history sites: a tour, a story, and a testimony. There was more emotion, more sentimentality, more personal connection, and more passion. In the blacksmith shop and the family living center, however, there was less spiritual emphasis and more of a focus on hands-on experience and getting an idea of what life was like in the 19th Century. The Visitor's Center was similar to most LDS Visitor's Center's I've seen. There was a big information desk with lots of pamphlets, a diorama of Nauvoo, a few theaters, some art exhibits, and a huge copy of the Christus right in the center of the room. It was also full of loud families with lots of kids. There was no souvenir shop, nothing for sale. Altogether, it was a pleasant, fun, family-oriented building.

The first difference I noticed when we entered the Community of Christ visitor's center is that it was much quieter. Acoustic arrangements of some of the early Mormon hymns were played in the background. It made for a more reverent atmosphere (though this might have been because we were the only ones there). A young bearded man greeted us, told us when the tours would begin, and invited us to have a look around. First we had a look at the small gift shop. I was surprised to find some real historical titles. I expected some fun little story books, but instead, they had Bushman's and Donna Hill's Joseph Smith biographies, Dan Vogel's and Grant Palmer's books, a two volume set of the original manuscript of the Book of Mormon, and lots of other serious academic studies. In the main room, there was an original sunstone and moonstone. They also had the southeast cornerstone from the temple on display. The cornerstone was fashioned as a stone box, inside of which was placed a time capsule of sorts containing a copy of the original Book of Mormon manuscript, some periodicals, some coins, other memorabilia. Most surprising to me was that they had an original first edition Book of Mormon on display and it was only behind a regular glass display door, not like the sealed glass case that houses an original first edition at the LDS-run Grandin Printing Press in Palmyra. In keeping with the academic orientation of the books at the gift shop, the Community of Christ tour was very historical, very fact-oriented, not at all emotional, sentimental, or spiritual. Our guide was knowledgeable enough to answer specific questions about names and dates by citing historical authorities. There was no testifying. We were not invited to learn more about the spiritual or doctrinal message of the Community of Christ.

II.
On the one hand, I really appreciated a break from the sentimentality and seeming emotional manipulation that you sometimes get from the LDS tour guides. I appreciated being able to get good authoritative answers to specific historical questions, answers that I could look up and verify. I enjoyed hearing more about the surrounding economic and social context of the events described to create a fuller picture combined with the spiritual context. I was glad to learn more about the Smith family that stayed in Nauvoo. I liked the relaxed nature of a tour without a proselyting goal. We were treated very politely and respectfully.

But I missed some of the passion and personality that you get from the senior couples at the LDS sites. I missed hearing about why this is important to the person speaking. I missed the spiritual conviction that we felt at Carthage. This sense of missing something became most poignant in the upper room of the Red Brick Store. Sitting in the room where endowments and sealings were first introduced, I wanted hear about it. But the endowment and sealing ordinances, the most complex and interesting and the most exalting of the ordinances revealed by Joseph Smith, were reduced to a footnote, almost an afterthought; no more notable than the muslin covering on the desk where Joseph would record his purchases. It was here especially that I felt that something important had been lost along with all the sentimentality and emotional gushing.

III.
Emotions are a funny thing. They are so easily confused with the promptings of the Spirit that they are often mistaken for them, and sometimes missionaries, both the proselyting and the tour guide kinds, try to invite the spirit by tugging at the emotions. Usually, it doesn't work, and usually it leaves someone feeling awkward and uncomfortable. (Remember, the Spirit is called the Comforter). By contrast, the Spirit is supposed to edify. I've seen too many people mistake a rush of emotion for a spiritual manifestation of some kind, putting their faith in it, only to have it come up shallow later on and conclude that the spirit is all a farse and the gospel isn't true. It's for these reasons that I wish we could purge ourselves from sentimentality and emotional manipulation.

I'm also reminded that, according to Joseph Smith's prayer at the dedication of the Kirtland temple, were should not seek spiritual experiences alone; we are also supposed to seek learning as well---not just by faith, but "by study, and also by faith." I don't expect a tour guide to present the tour with the knowledge of a professional historian. It would be long, boring, and irrelevant to most of the patrons. But a tour guide is a teacher and a teacher ought to know his material more deeply than he teaches it. Truth, according to the revelations, is not just an abstract spiritual experience, but is knowledge of things as they are, and as they were. Truth, especially historical truth, is inherently fact-based. It is true that often we can do no better than approximations and guesses, but our guesses ought to be as good as we can get, as faithful to the historical record as we can be. Joseph Smith, taking a cue from Paul, warned the early saints to avoid zeal without knowledge (see Nibley's discussion of Joseph's warning).

The Community of Christ tours seemed to have a better handle on this kind of fact based history. But on the other hand, as Paul says, "knowledge", unchecked by charity, "puffeth up". Spiritual things cannot always find expression in the language of the knowledgeable. The omission of endowments from the Red Brick Store left me feeling like I had missed out. The LDS missionaries were less knowledgeable, but more personal; less accurate, but more memorable; less academic, but more passionate. Something was gained, and something was lost.

So my question is this: does a re-orientation towards a more historically accurate approach necessarily lead to a loss of conviction? Or is it possible to be both knowledgeable and spiritual? Is there something that the LDS site missionaries and the Community of Christ tour staff could learn from each other? How can we both improve our presentation of history?

Mitt Unplugged, or Oedipus Romney: Why Romney's best virtue may lose him the nomination.

This video has been getting some mileage around the 'nacle (and the rest of the internet to a lesser extent) as of late.

Those who read this blog will probably know that I am leery of Mitt Romney. On the other hand, my opinion of Romney went up when I watched the video. The general consensus both on the 'nacle and elsewhere seems to be that Romney did a great job defending himself and his church. I agree that the video shows us Romney at his best. My interest lies in why Romney seems so much better in this video than on the regular campaign trail.

My political misgivings about Romney I've explained elsewhere. But stylistically, my criticism of the regular campaign trail Romney is that he is always on script. He doesn't seem to know how to give an answer that directly addresses the question rather than giving an answer that addresses the question enough not to be evasive but that is really an attempt to get back to the campaign talking points. Romney is hardly the only political candidate to fall victim to this vice. But he has mastered the technique so well that he arouses suspicion. Add to that the fact that he is a successful wealthy businessman, handsome, and has a nice family, and you can really begin to understand that criticism that he is "too perfect."

But here, perhaps because he might not have known the camera was on, he was engaged with the issue, not with the talking points. He realized that the interviewer was was not going to let him get back to the talking points unless he resolved the issue, so he took it head-on, not backing down. It gives us a chance to see Romney thinking on his feet, and being articulate, not just drawing on a catalog of sound bites. It was refreshing.

So what made Romney get off his robotic message tricycle? Was it just the fact that the interviewer was an irritating Skousenite? (He's got to be the only non-Mormon Skousenite out there.) That might have had something to do with it. But it seems more likely to me that Romney was more personally engaged because he had more personally (as opposed to politically) at stake. Let me explain: when people attack Romney for being inconsistent or for changing his mind, (aka "flip-flopping") he has political clout to lose. But when a non-Mormon with a mistaken understanding of the church's position on abortion accuses Romney of having violated that position, he attacks Romney's personal religious commitment and also, his mis-characterization of the policy falsely represents the church. Therefore, Romney's church and his faith, two things closer to his heart than his politics (hopefully) are attacked. This is why Romney says "I don't like coming on the air to have you go after me and my church."

So it's an irony worthy of Greek tragedy that Romney, trying to win the Republican nomination, is at his best when defending a the moderate position of the church against the more right-wing fringe of the party. I say its ironic because those are the people he needs to play to if he's going to have a prayer at getting the nomination. This is not because republicans as a whole are extremists, but because, unfortunately, the extremists turn out to vote in the primaries in larger numbers and exert more influence on the nomination process.

Some politicians cannot think off message. Romney demonstrates that he can. It's a rare talent; and he ought to show that off by responding more directly and being more honest and passionate. It was one of a few a smart moves his campaign has made (you can count them on one hand) to release the video. Most Americans, I think, will respond better to this Romney than campaign trail Romney. The only question is whether the right-wing party hacks in St. Paul this year will think like most Americans.

Is it unethical to preach the gospel?

I asked myself this question last night. My job (a law clerk for a legal services organization that serves migrant farmworkers) is constantly inviting me to make comparisons with my missionary service. Like my time as a missionary, I work with Latinos, mostly Mexicans, in the U.S., who live off of field work. Like missionaries, I visit my clients in their homes. Like missionaries, I have to gain my clients' trust. Heck, I even drive a 1999 Sentra like when I was a missionary.

9:00 PM. Last night was a late night. As I met with a client family in a trailer park in a small town in western Minnesota, I couldn't help but be brought back to my mission service. Especially when my client asked me: ¿Cómo aprendiste el español? I explained to him that I was a missionary for my church a few years ago in Arizona. His face glowed with recognition and he said that he had had visits from Mormon elders at his home in Texas. At that point, I would have responded with a follow up question: how did you like it? Or, why did you stop meeting with them? Or, did you ever go to church? Or, would you like me to have the elders here visit you?

I would have. But I stopped myself. I hesitated. It didn't feel right. Somehow, it had the feel of an abuse of authority, or an impermissible blending of church and state, or a violation of the legal services non-solicitation policy, or some other verboten thing. Even though it wasn't strictly any of those things, it felt like something of that nature.

9:15 PM. We finished up our interview and I packed up my client files securely. We shook hands. ¡Que Diós te bendiga! I heard my client exclaim as I got in the car. As I drove to my temporary 3-day-a-week apartment, I wondered why it was that I felt like it was wrong of me to preach the gospel at that moment. The best answer I came up with was that my relationship with my clients, is one of professional advice and counsel, and that the gospel is outside the bounds of that relationship. They come to me to find out what to do. I, after conferring with a licensed attorney, then give them the advice they seek. Even though I explain that I am only a law clerk, not a licensed attorney, they still see me as some kind of professional authority figure. I am entrusted with that authority for the specific purpose of giving them legal advice and counsel. To give, unsolicited, religious counsel would seem like a breach of that trust.

I don't mean that I would never speak about the church with a client. If a client asked me about the church, I would respond. If a client asked me about a non-legal matter, I would be likely to draw on relevant gospel-related experiences. But somehow, it feels wrong to "look for an opening" to share the gospel like I might do in another situation.

But is that just an attempt to artificially separate my gospel self from my professional self? At some level, my understanding of the law is founded on my understanding of justice, which is founded on my understanding of religious truths. The gospel really does infuse everything I do, like it or not. So is my attempt to banish it a Canute-like futility?

Or again, is my sense that it would be wrong to preach the gospel in that situation nothing more than an excuse? Is it really my human reluctance to share personal things (what could be more personal than religion) with people I've just met? Maybe I'm justifying after the fact my failure to share the gospel by rationalizing that I probably shouldn't have anyway.

Or is my hunch right? Is it unethical in some situations to preach the gospel?

I know that sometimes it is illegal to preach the gospel. And I suppose that some might argue that given our belief "in being subject to kings, presidents, rulers, magistrates, and obeying honoring and sustaining the law," the very fact that it is illegal makes it wrong. But I can't accept that as an absolute. That would mean that Daniel and the three Hebrew children were wrong to disobey their king. It would also mean that Helmut Hubner was wrong to oppose Hitler. Scripture and conscience don't allow those conclusions for me.

Maybe a discussion of "ethical" would be helpful. I've always liked Kant's expression that it is unethical to use a human being for the benefit of another because it is a nice critique of hard materialist utilitarianism. I'm not sure how that relates to my question, though. Preaching the gospel is not using anyone. I suppose I am using the situation, but it is not for my benefit, but for the benefit of the other. Then again, perhaps I am not qualified to decide what is in another's best interest because that would rob him of a sacred autonomy. A utilitarian ethicist would simply balance the potential harm from me preaching the gospel against the potential good it would do. But this doesn't work here because the potential good is infinite, great enough to justify the spilling of God's blood. How can you balance anything against infinity?

Ethics is weird for me because I feel like I have a pretty strong sense of right and wrong, but it is highly intuitive sense, not a rational sense. For me, the abuse or misuse of authority of authority is important to ethics. The idea of trust and its betrayal is also an important ingredient. Maybe this idea subsumes the former; a misuse of authority is fundamentally a betrayal of trust. If it is unethical to preach the gospel, maybe it is ethics that is flawed. Ethics for me is a matter of conscience, but is defined to most of the world by philosopher and scholars working in rational proofs.

Should ethics be defined by reason or by intuition? Is religion (and with it the injunction to preach to all the world) superior to ethics because it is revealed truth rather than merely rational or intuitive truth? Then again, given what we Mormons believe about the light of Christ, what is the difference between revealed truth and intuitive truth?

Or is it just that there are exceptions to the command to take the gospel to all the world? I don't like the idea of there being exceptions because it might lead us to assume that some people's immediate spiritual salvation is worth less than others' to God. The Lord certainly doesn't qualify it in scriptural language. But then again he also doesn't qualify "thou shalt not kill" and yet we accept that he appears to command Abraham, Joshua, Nephi, and others to do just that. If there are exceptions to the mission to proclaim the gospel, is there a way to recognize these exceptions without giving room to justify laziness in our mission?

But maybe the exceptions idea isn't the right approach. Maybe it's not a matter of if this particular person or group should hear the gospel, but when. I think of the 11th hour laborers. The fact that they were called later did not devalue their labor. In fact, their work was worth more to the lord per hour in strict economic terms. Given what we believe about our post-mortal life, the universalism of the command can still stand even if current circumstances render it impossible, impractical, or even unethical.

But there's always that nagging voice in the back of your mind, telling you that you're still just trying to justify yourself.

The Book Revue: The Politics of American Religious Identy, by Kathleen Flake

Since it's been a few weeks since I finished it, I owe an installment to the Book Revue. Kathleen Flake's The Politics of American Religious Identity: The Seating of Senator Reed Smoot, Mormon Apostle is worth a read for anyone who has interest in Mormon history, the decline of the Protestant political establishment, or church-state issues in the U.S.

What you have to know about Kathleen Flake is that she is incredibly smart. She possesses not only a historian's ability to survey huge amounts of material, but also the analytical gift of distilling a clean, precise, conclusion. She combines these scholarly gifts with the faith and experience of living inside the Mormon church. As a result, her writing is simultaneously challenging and uplifting to faithful and outsiders alike. I was first introduced to her through her 1992 Essay "Supping with the Lord: a Liturgical Theology of the LDS Sacrament." Her thoughtful analysis of one of the core ordinances of Mormonism takes a look at the similarities and differences between the two prayers, and between this ordinance as compared to other Eucharistic rituals. The combination of close textual analysis and thoughtful faith is rare in a world where writing about religion too often devolves into criticisms or apologetics.

This book is no different. In it, Flake examines how the church went from being an isolated polygamous, theocratic sect holed up in the Rocky Mountains to being the integrated conservative, uber-American, ultra-patriotic, nuclear family centered church that it is today. The traditional narrative accepted in Mormon studies placed the crux of that transition at the moment of President Woodruff's manifesto.

But one major problem with the traditional narrative is that the manifesto was in many ways a non-event. The church was locked in a fight with the republican federal government, both sides committed to win, and the situation changed very little immediately after the manifesto. Though we take it seriously today, it wasn't always regarded as so binding. While "the church" didn't sanction or solemnize plural marriages after the manifesto, several apostles did, with knowledge (and some have argued, implicit approval) of the President of the Church. While the excerpts appended to the manifesto in the current printing of the scriptures uses the language of revelation and vision, The language of the manifesto itself presents itself not as binding, but as "advice," and grounds itself not in revelation, but in the fact that plural marriages are "against the law of the land." (Greg Smith's article gives a more comprehensive view of post-manifesto polygamy). There were enough Mormons still continuing to marry polygamously that President Joseph F. Smith issued what is sometimes called the "Second Manifesto" in 1904. The major difference from the 1890 manifesto is that it specifically threatened excommunication to solemnizers of plural marriages. The fact is that the 1890 manifesto was not the colossal moment that some historians have made it out to be.

Flake's book asserts that it was Reed Smoot's election to the Senate that precipitated the change associated with the Second Manifesto. She details how the Senate at the time was dominated by a powerful but weakening protestant establishment; not an organization, but the informal cooperation of individuals and groups with a shared understanding and agenda. The Smoot hearings were the clash between the (largely) republican protestant movement and the Mormon church. Bent on destroying the remaining "twin relic of barbarism," the republican party was not going to back down. However, this time the fight was political; it was fought in committee rooms rather than on the battlefield and in the courtroom and the jailhouse. The result was compromise and accommodation on both sides.

But most surprising to me, was the portrait that Flake paints of Joseph F. Smith. I came away from this book viewing President Smith not just as a prophet, but as a brilliant strategist who was forced to act as an intermediary between the hostile federal government and his own people. Flake explores how at the same time he committed the church to the eradication of polygamy, President Smith also began to place renewed emphasis on the First Vision to ensure that the church would not lose its uniqueness. With its commonwealth assimilated, its independence a thing of the past, and its most distinctive practices abolished, President Smith turned the church to its distinctive doctrines.

And one need not worry that Flake's book is damaging to Mormon faith. While I wouldn't make it part of the Sunday School curriculum, it tells a faithful, honest story. It must be remembered that Flake is a Latter-day Saint, which makes it clear that while the issues raised by this period of church history may challenge the understanding, they do not have to destroy or weaken faith. Recently, even Elder Dallin H. Oaks of the Quorum of the Twelve spoke favorably of this book, calling it "the best thing ever written on [the church's transition from isolation to assimilation]." On Joseph F. Smith's role in the transition, Elder Oaks says that Flake "wrote about that so movingly, and I’d never thought of it. That was something that was new to me, but it rang true." (Read the whole interview here.)

Bottom line: The Politics of American Religious Identity: The Seating of Senator Reed Smoot, Mormon Apostle is a great, well-researched, and thoughtful book. It ought to be required reading for anyone interested in studying Mormon history at the turn of the century.

Happy Pioneer Day: They of the last wagon.

I have a love-hate relationship with this holiday. I love my ancestors who are remembered on this day, and the sacrifice that they went through to preserve the church. I hate the fact that sometimes it is an excuse to perpetuate the cultural aristocracy that we sometimes see whereby those who descend from the famous families in church history are seemingly more important than rank-and-file members.

I know, I know, there's also lots of talk about modern pioneers. But sometimes, the modern pioneer thing sounds to me more like an apologetic afterthought than sincere praise. It's not that I'm bitter or jealous, either; I have a pretty rich church history pedigree myself. I just don't like the aristocratic tendencies it creates. It seems at odds with the democratic and egalitarian attitudes the gospel seems to espouse. God could raise up children of Abraham from inanimate rocks if he wanted to.

That's why I love this talk. Given by J. Reuben Clark in 1947, it should be read every July 24th.

Civitate Dei

As I shuttle back and forth between the farmland of western Minnesota and the concrete island of Minneapolis, I've been thinking about the difference between the city and the country. Specifically, what role does the city/country dichotomy play in the gospel?

Christianity has always seemed to hold some kind of pastoral aesthetic as an ideal. David's cry that "The Lord is my shepherd" resonates with Christians still. This pastoral theme begins almost immediately after the fall. Abel, the first martyr, was a keeper of flocks. Abraham and the patriarchs were also keepers of flocks. The Law of Moses, with its myriad of animal sacrifice requirements was a law for shepherds. Moses himself receives his prophetic call after forsaking Egypt and taking on the life of a herdsman with Jethro.

Then there's also this intertwined idea of the wilderness (and mountains in particular) as sacred space. Think of Eden, Ararat, Sinai, Canaan and even Israel's travels. The prophets are always calling the faithful out of the civilization of Egypt to the ascetic purification of the wilderness. It continues in the New Testament, where Jesus' birth is first announced to Shephards. John the Baptist is descried "as one crying in the wilderness." Jesus preaches his greatest sermon on a mountain. Even Calvary is outside the city. Eden was a garden, and Gethsemane, even though it was inside the city, was a garden, a sacred green space.

This idea is even stronger in Mormonism where the Book of Mormon explicitly says that the Lord "leadeth the righteous away into precious lands." Think of the Jaredites, the Mulekites, Lehi and family, and even Nephi doing it again to get away from Laman and Lemuel. Both Nephi and Jared's brother have spiritual experience on mountains, separated from civilization. Both take their followers out of the city and into the wilderness. The same exodus motif is re-enacted in LDS history as well, with the saints leaving one place after another. Not just the trek to Salt Lake, but the departures from New York, from Harmony, from Kirtland, from Missouri, and from Nauvoo all replay the same pattern.

Then, in addition to the pastoral ideal and the sacred wilderness/exodus motif, there is the recurring image of evil represented by a city or a building. Babel is the earliest example, then you have Sodom and Gomorrah and Babylon. In the New Testament Babylon is resurrected as a type and applied to hedonistic and oppressive Rome. Jerusalem, though it is the Holy City, is depicted a the nest of Herod's corrupt regime and the Pharisees' religious oppression. Again, the Book of Mormon follows the same pattern, where in Lehi's vision goodness is represented as a tree and evil, "the pride of the world" is a building, not just a humble dwelling, but a "great and spacious" building full of "all manner" of people whose "manner of dress [is] very fine." It is a cosmopolitan place. Then you have the voice of Christ in the darkness declaiming the destruction of wicked cities. The Doctrine and Covenants reinforces the Babylon motif by using Babylon as a type, but also by issuing warnings to specific American cities.

So there are three interweaving themes going on: the pastoral ideal, the wilderness motif, and the Babylon motif. These together create a kind of preference for rural life and a distrust toward the city. Even Augustine's city of god was not a physical place, but a transcendant community of believers.

But even though the anti-urban mood does seem to predominate, there is another side to the story. Jerusalem is kind of ambivalent. On the one hand, it is the holy city; on the other, it is still corrupt. But there is Enoch's city, even older than Jerusalem. Zion stands out as a foil to the Babylon motif. In the advance of metropolitan Babylon, the righteous always seem to flee. The exodus motif does this. John's apocalypse gives us the image of the church, symbolised as a woman, fleeing into the wilderness. But Zion is different.

In the case of Zion, the righteous did flee, but not into the wilderness. Instead, the saying "Zion has fled" meant that the city itself was taken up into heaven as a city proper, not as a nomadic group of strangers and pilgrims. Zion seems to be the only example of an uncorrupted holy metropolis. The righteous didn't leave the city, they took it with them.

Part of the genius of the restoration is that it tapped into this almost-forgotten Zion myth (myth in the positive sense). Early Mormonism was a metropolitan, even cosmopolitan endeavor. Today, we lionize the pioneers as pilgrims and idealize their peregrinations. But no matter how much we see the exodus parallels in the wesward trek, the Pioneers were different from the nomads of the Old Testament because they didn't go to the wilderness to get away from the city, they went there to build a city. Joseph Smith was a city planner and builder. Kirtland and most especially Nauvoo demonstrate his metropolitan tendencies and abilities. The Mormons' Missouri and Illinois antagonists were not the cosmopolitan sinners of Sodom and Gomorrah, they were the unwashed "border ruffians" of the American frontier. Nauvoo was bigger than Chicago, it was not a quanit town, it was a city. Mostly easterners and immigrants from the great cities of Europe, the Mormons were the cosmopolitans.

And Mormonism, because of the missionary program, has a tradition of holy and sacred events taking place in cities. In the larger Christian tradition, missionary work is most often taken to far-off, benighted lands, the far east and Asia. Though this is starting to change as Europe gets less religious, the idea was that the "Christian" nations didn't need missionaries. Mormonism (along with the Witnesses and a few other small sects) is unique in that it sends its missionaries to America's great cities. So when Joseph Smith sends Brigham Young and Heber Kimball to England, they go straight to the heart of the industrial center of England, Manchester. Here they wrestle with Satan and baptize hundreds. Sacred history is created, in the city.

So is the city a place to celebrate, or a place to flee out of? Are all cities evil if they are not Zion?

I'm reminded of Ninevah. That great city took three days to walk across. Jonah is interesting because he is in many ways the anti-prophet. The Book of Jonah flips things around. He runs away from his prophetic call, he preaches only grudgingly, and then he's upset when the people repent. The Ninevites don't play their role in the expected way because they actually repent. The whole prophet narrative is backwards. The topsy-turvy world of the Book of Jonah also flips around the traditional city/wilderness dichotomy as well. Near the end of the book we find the prophet outside of the city, in the wilderness, being childish, petty, ethnocentric and melodramatic, while the city-zens are inside the city, repenting in sackloth and ashes. The sacred space is inside the city. The wilderness is not the sacred space.

So is Ninevah just anomoly? What attitude do our traditions and sacred texts take toward the city? Is the city only capable of Zion when it's also a theocracy, or will our secular cities be redeemed like Ninevah?

Independence Day: ¡Viva la revolución!

In Church on Sunday we sang the “Battle Hymn of the Republic” to open the meeting. The “Battle Hymn” has a kind of earnest Victorian-esque zeal worthy of Shaw’s Major Barbara. Until recently, I always thought that this rousing Christian hymn predated the uncouth and irreligious “John Brown’s body lies a-moulderin’ in the grave” and that the good Christian version was the original.

But I was wrong. “John Brown’s Body” was a folk song, and like all good folk songs, has no identifiable author, but is the anonymous collective product of the great mass of un-elite humanity. It originated during the civil war among union troops who would sing it to lift their spirits and to convince themselves that they were fighting for the end of slavery.

Later, the daughter of a Lieutenant Colonel in the Continental Army Christianized “John Brown’s Body” by rewriting it, removing those pesky, possibly idolatrous references to Osawatomie Brown and replacing the marching of Brown’s soul with the marching of God’s truth. But even with these variations on the original theme, the origins of Howe’s “Battle Hymn of the Republic” are anchored squarely in the Civil War and specifically, with the call to end slavery. When Howe admonishes “as he died to make men holy, let us die to make men free,” it isn’t just some abstract kind of freedom she is talking about, but real physical, freedom. This makes the hymn more visceral to me, and therefore, more powerful.

And it seems, to quote another Civil War text “altogether fitting and proper” that I should commemorate Independence Day by remembering not just Lexington and Concord, Valley Forge, and Yorktown, but also Harper’s Ferry, Antietum and Gettysburg. 1776 was the birth of American freedom, but Lincoln hoped the Civil War would bring a “new birth of freedom.”

His hope was prophetic. It is not hyperbole to call the Civil War the second birth of this country. The country we live in now owes as much to the Civil War and the subsequent reconstruction as it does to the Boston Tea Party and the Constitutional Convention. The Civil War did two things: it created the legal system that defines questions of individual rights in this county, and it unified a loose group of states into one solid nation. Brown vs. Board of Education, arguably the most impactful court decision of the century, was based in the civil war amendments. Virtually any Supreme Court decision dealing with individual rights goes through the 14^th Amendment. Before the Civil War, history books said that the United States are or were. Now, we say that the United States is or was. Ungrammatical, but significant. The revolution made us free, but the Civil War made us a nation.

But isn’t just the impact of the Civil War, it is also the substance of what that war was about that makes it meaningful to our independence. The second paragraph of the founding document of independence codifies what was later called our creed, that all are equal. If equality is the creed our independence, then slavery was our great national blasphemy. The causes of the Civil War are complex. It is too simplistic to just say that the Civil War was caused by slavery. But even if the war wasn’t about slavery when it started, it soon became a war about slavery. It was about slavery to the troops who sang “John Brown’s Body” and it was certainly about slavery to the emancipated African-Americans.

And it was about slavery to the confederate leadership itself. It is often said that the confederacy was only concerned about states rights. But the right the secessionist states were asserting was the right to keep human beings as property because of race. Consider confederate Vice President Alexander Stevenson’s assessment of Jefferson's Declaration of Independence:

His ideas, however, were fundamentally wrong. They rested upon the assumption of the equality of races. This was an error ... Our new government is founded upon exactly the opposite idea; its foundations are laid, its corner-stone rests, upon the great truth that the negro is not equal to the white man; that slavery—subordination to the superior race—is his natural and normal condition.

The secessionists were not just conservatives who failed to progress beyond slavery with the rest of the country; they were reactionaries who had actually repudiated the first of the self-evident truths that were articulated to justify American independence. This position essentially killed the revolution in the secessionist states. Its defeat, then, is appropriately called a “new birth of freedom.”

So tomorrow I will not just celebrate the war that won our political independence from a foppish monarchy. I will celebrate the war that won our economic independence from a racist ideology anathema our national creed. Together with the birth of freedom, I will celebrate the new birth of freedom that caused us to take that creed seriously enough to make it a part of our constitution. For those who, like me, believe that the principles of the Revolution are God's truth, and that they apply to all people, not just to America, Howe's prophetic phrase is hopeful and optimistic. Racism isn’t dead yet, but “His truth is marching on.”

Adlai Stevenson vs. Alma, Son of Alma?

This month-old post got me thinking about the role of diplomacy in missionary work. As Natalie points out, we often see ourselves, when engaged in missionary work, as representatives of the church. This is natural enough. We’re putting ourselves out there to tell people what we believe, so they would assume that we’d be qualified to talk about it. We are necessarily placed in the role of representatives.

We even call ourselves representatives. How many times did I tell people in Phoenix “somos representantes de La Iglesia de Jesucristo de los Santos de los Últimos Días”? We tell our missionaries that they are representatives not just of the church, but of Jesus Christ himself. That’s huge.

But as representatives, we often cast ourselves as diplomats. When someone asks us about the church and its doctrines, we want to give an appealing, diplomatic answer; we try to reveal as little as possible of what might be problematic or difficult to understand (milk before meat, after all). And to the extent that we do reveal any such thing, we turn apologists to give some very reasonable sounding explanation (anyone ever heard the tannic acid Word of Wisdom apologia?).

One problem that arises is that each diplomatic attempt to produce the “official position” results in a different official position. Recently, I visited a couple with the missionaries who had a lot of questions about Mormon doctrine and beliefs. They had also gotten a lot of answers that seemed official from the missionaries and from another couple in the ward. I thought many of these answers were right, I thought many of them were flat out wrong, and I thought many were technically correct statements of what many Mormons believe, but were misstatements of what Mormon doctrine actually says.

Diplomatic answers are probably appropriate if you're being interviewed by Larry King or Mike Wallace. But in a missionary setting, it can cause problems. A big part of the art of diplomacy is the art of negotiation, which is to a large extent the art of concealing information and strategy while pretending to reveal it. It’s not about communicating truth, but about getting the other side to do what you want. The diplomat-negotiator always wants to maintain control over the situation.

I suspect that to the extent that we let the rhetorical posture of diplomacy creep into missionary work, we undermine ourselves and ignore our mission to “proclaim the gospel.” That call requires us to do just the opposite of what a seasoned negotiator would do: to communicate the truth as precisely as we can, seeking understanding and leaving the decision in the hands of the other party.

So I see at least four problems with the diplomat-negotiator approach to missionary work: 1) The attempt to create a well-reasoned answer creates unauthorized dogma. 2) Diplomacy conceals the truth, and to the extent that it does, it is not fully honest. 3) Diplomacy tries to exercise control or influence over the other party, and in doing so, its goal is not understanding, but compliance. 4) Because the goal is compliance, rather than understanding, diplomacy relies on superficial rational explanations to explain away and dismiss doubts rather than honest discussion to resolve them.

I think we can represent the church and the Savior without taking on the role of the diplomat-negotiator. But not it if we insist on having a rational answer for every question---a line that plays, a well-reasoned response that we can utter, smooth as oil, and then smile into the camera from under a well-combed coif. The kind of representation that invites the spirit comes not from the well-prepared answers that we repeat, but from the sincere saints that we actually are. The true representative does not have to repeat the official party line; he is himself a representation of his Master. The force of our testimony comes not from our well-composed diplomatic responses, but is, as Paul says, “written in the fleshy tables of the heart."

While I visited with the couple I mentioned, I felt myself falling into the posture of the diplomat. But after answering a few questions beginning with “the church’s official position is” or “most Mormons read that to mean” or something like that, I felt a bit frustrated. I stopped attempting to present myself as a diplomat on behalf of “most Mormons.”

Instead I told them that in Mormonism there are no creeds. While there is plenty that a Mormon must do, there is, in comparison with creedal Christianity, very little that you must believe to be a Mormon. It requires a belief in God, in the Atonement of Christ (i.e. Grace), acceptance of the Book of Mormon and the other revelations as scripture, and a willingness to sustain church leadership.

I told them that the lack of creedal definitions places significant responsibility on the individual, and that this is why the Gift of the Holy Ghost is so important to us. I said that some Mormons, just like human beings in any religion, are uncomfortable with the responsibility and risk that come with this freedom of thought and belief, and so they try to define the doctrines, pin them down, parse them, taxonomize them and codify them. Some even want to regulate and enforce them. But the reality is that from the moment Joseph Smith experienced his first vision, creeds were declared an abomination. God wants his people to come to him for answers. He wants us free.

Having explained this, I told them my own personal thoughts on the questions they asked, but told them also that my opinions were no more valid than any other member of the church, and that in most cases, they would have to decide for themselves how to interpret the doctrines of the church. I told them that if they would seek the spirit, they would find the right answers.

It felt so good to not be locked into a sales pitch.

Ever notice that Romney ryhmes with OMNI?

And by OMNI I mean spanish UFO's, not Book of Mormon prophets or defunct provo dance clubs.

This rich guy newspaper that apparently can't afford to pay for real photos and instead uses old-timey drawings ran a pretty good story on Mitt Romney.

Honestly, I'm getting a little tired of the Romney-Mormonism discussion. How many ways can we say "Kennedy already settled the issue, religion doesn't matter"? And how many ways can we say "Mormons are a wierd, scary, quaint, and ridiculous cult"? It pretty much boils down to those two sides.

But it got me thinking. What kind of effect would a Romney nomination have on the Republican party? What kind of effect would a Romney victory have on the United States. What kind of effect would both have on the church?

I.
My view is that a Romney nomination would bring a fantastic change to the Republican party. It would show that the majority of Republicans are not paranoid anti-science fundamentalists, but decent people who hold conservative values but are reasonable and willing to compromise. It would re-enthrone religious tolerance as a conservative virtue. It would have the effect of banishing the extreme evangelicals (not most evangelicals, just the extreme ones) to the outer wings of the party. This would be a much better Republican party.

II.
On the other hand, I have my doubts about Romney. He seems very willing to shift his views depending on the audience and the race. He is too willing, in my opinion, to embrace people like Ann Coulter, and to identify with them. But he is bright, he is competent, and in the past he has demonstrated the ability to see both sides and be moderate. I have also heard by hearsay from people who know Romney personally, that he is not nearly as right-wing as he is now appearing to be. One man in particular said that he had no idea why Romney was acting this way. I know its a campaign strategy, but it smacks of dishonesty. Romney's support for Bush's foreign policy decisions is probably the thing that mystifies me the most. I would have a difficult time voting for anyone who supports the recent accretion of executive power and wants to "double Guantanamo." Bottom line: I think the old Romney, the one that ran against Teddy Kennedy, or even the one that ran for Governor of Mass. would be a pretty decent president. The new Romney worries me. I suspect that an elected Romney might shed the new Romney, but I'm not sure I'd want to bet on it.

III.
A Romney nomination would have a mixed impact on the Church. On the one hand, it would signal that the church is more acceptable to Republicans as a group. This could also mean that traditionally very conservative religious groups may soften up on their anti-mormon bent. Or they might just leave the Republican party. The point is, it would force a choice: stop hating Mormons so much, or give up your political clout. Either option would be good, either for the church or for the GOP. On the other hand, a Romney nomination may strengthen the already too-strong tie between Mormons (note: not the Church) and Republicans and embolden and seemingly legitimize Mormons who believe that GOP stands for God's Own Party. These folks are rare, but there's usually one or two in every ward who think that the UN is the Gadianton Robbers, that the civil rights movement was an attempted Communist takeover, that the First Presidency and all the Apostles are closet republicans, that the church's political neutrality is only a PR front, and/or that the temple recommend interview is designed to ferret out liberals. A Romney nomination might add fuel to their fire. On the other hand, this very possibility might prompt the institutional church to emphasize neutrality even more, and could clarify it for many.

IV.
A Romney presidency would, in my opinion have terrible effects on the international church. It's no secret that the U.S. is not so well liked in the world these days. If President Romney did indeed continue to push Bush's foreign policy ideals, these horrible ideas would be connected in the minds of many with the church. Not such a good missionary tool. I also wonder about even the physical safety of missionaries in places like Latin America if the world at large began to see U.S. foreign policy as Mormon-inspired in some way. I don't think it would be entirely disastrous, or that it would kill the missionary program. After all, no unhallowed hand can stop the work from progressing. But it would be a significant and substantial challenge for the church.

What it all comes down to for me is that I want Romney to get the nomination. But I don't want him to win unless perhaps Clinton is the alternative.

In 1844, the democrats were split...

Bjorn recently left a comment on one of my old posts about Mitt Romney reminding us that "Romney wasn't the only Mormon candidate for president" and including an excerpt on Joseph Smith's political platform. (You can read Joseph Smith's platform unabridged, here. It is titled "Views on the Powers and Policy of the Government of the U.S.) Indeed Bjorn is right. Most recently, Utah's Senator Orrin Hatch (taking some time off from his bizarre music career, apparently) made an embarrassingly short-lived bid for president in 2000. Before that, Romney's own father put himself in the race for the republican nomination in 1968. A strong supporter of civil rights, Romney was a moderate republican, and as such was a bit of a dying breed. The general consensus is that his strong anti-war stance cost him the nomination. A Romney nomination (in 1964, that is) would have raised interesting constitutional questions because Romney was a U.S. citizen by birth, having been born to U.S. citizens living in Colonia Dublan, Chihuahua, Mexico. The fact that he was born outside of the U.S., some argued, made him a U.S. citizen, but not a "natural born citizen" as the constitution requires.

The excerpt Bjorn included comes from 1902 book written by William Linn called "The Story of the Mormons, From the Date of their Origin to the Year 1902. Though I have seen Linn's name mentioned in other Mormon history texts, I am unfamiliar with him and his work. Just cursorily skimming his preface I saw what seemed like a fairly unabashed anti-Mormon agenda with a moderate dose of sarcasm. But having not read the book, I am probably unqualified to make a an informed judgment. (You can read it, among other places, here.) My knowledge of Joseph Smith's candidacy comes mostly from Richard Bushman's and Donna Hill's work. Linn's final assessment of Joseph Smith's candidacy (in the part that Bjorn excerpted anyway) is that "there was nothing modest about Mormon political ambition."

It is this final comment that interests me. In some ways, he's absolutely right. Joseph Smith did have a vast amount of political clout in local politics and was a considerable force in state politics as well. While he always preserved the forms and the procedures of democracy, his concurrent positions in political and ecclesiastical leadership blurred the line for many people. The Nauvoo charter gave the city government considerable (though not unheard-of) independence from state government. Nauvoo itself was bigger than Chicago in its heyday. Fears of a Mormon bloc vote and the substantial political power of the Mormon community (along with dislike of the fact that most Mormons opposed slavery) were in large part what fueled anti-Mormon sentiment and politics years before in Missouri.

But on the other hand, Linn's comment makes it seem like Joseph Smith was not just a political force to be reckoned with, but that he was delusionally ambitious as well, which I'm not sure is accurate. It is true that when Joseph declared his candidacy, the whole church got involved. Missionaries became campaign canvassers, church papers took up the call, and amid the frenzy of hyperbole that characterized 19th-century politics, many Mormons probably believed that their prophet would actually win. Joseph himself postured and strutted in earnest like any candidate worth his salt. But did he actually think he had a chance of winning?

I don't think he did. That would have been so quixotic as to make Ralph Nader a paragon of pragmatism by comparison. Bare political ambition is too simplistic a motive. Early in the election, Joseph wrote each of the candidates then running asking what would be his policy toward the saints. The candidates essentially dismissed the question. Most notably, John Calhoun and Martin Van Buren cited concerns of federalism and state sovereignty to say that the "Mormon question" did not fall under federal jurisdiction. Joseph thought it was unreasonable that the President could call out the militia to suppress an insurrection at any time, but not to protect the lives and property of the citizens of a state unless requested by the governor. Unsatisfied, Joseph ran for president not because he expected to win, but to deprive unworthy candidates of the Mormon vote.

That's my take on it anyway. What do you think? Why did Joseph Smith run for president in 1844?

Interview with Elders Nelson and Wickman

The Pew Forum recently interviewed Elder Russel M. Nelson (of the Quorum of the 12) and Elder Lance B Wickman (Church Legal Counsel). They discussed the church's public relations, specifically, how they are affected or not affected by all the recent and upcoming media attention to the church (Romney, PBS documentary, MMM movie, etc.).

I think Elder Wickman's response to the question about Americans being generally reluctant to vote for a Mormon did not do a very good job of reinforcing the church's political neutrality stance. However, I only found one doctrinal error in the article:

"The church considers the quorum second in ecclesiastical authority to the church's First Presidency..."

(Emphasis Added.) Not according to the Doctrine and Covenants we don't.

The Book Revue: Rough Stone Rolling

Joseph Smith: Rough Stone Rolling (Knopf, 2005) has been long awaited. Years ago, I read Bushman’s Joseph Smith and the Beginnings of Mormonism (1984, U of Ill. Press). It was fantastic. More thoroughly researched and more objectively and insightfully analyzed than most Joseph Smith bios, it was a great read.

So when RSR came out, I was excited to read it. School and finances delayed me a bit, but several months ago I received RSR as a gift and read it as quickly as 1st year law courses would allow.

Overall, it is great. As well researched as JSBM was, RSR begins with a biographical survey of Joseph Smith’s maternal and paternal ancestors and the cultural climate of New England at that time. It then moves through Joseph’s early life and continues with the founding of the church. The rest is, of course, history.

The overall theme of RSR is progressive development, or in very Mormon terms, line upon line. Sometimes we Mormons tend to think of the church and the priesthood as having sprung, Minvera-like, fully formed from Joseph’s revelatory head. In reality, Joseph himself learned the organization of the church and the priesthood one step at a time. Bushman looks at the different versions of the first vision as an expression of Joseph’s growing understanding of that experience and his growing confidence in his calling leading him to reveal more and more of what had happened to him. He also examines the ways in which the Book of Mormon itself contributed to Joseph’s view of himself as a prophet called of God rather than just another visionary preacher.

The challenge in writing about Joseph Smith is that he is such a divisive figure. Everyone has an opinion and everyone has an axe to grind, an agenda, or at least a bias. Bushman readily acknowledges that he views Joseph as an inspired prophet and regards the church and priesthood as authentic. But this does not prevent him from taking a close, critical look at the stories that have surrounded Joseph and using an astute historian’s eye to separate undocumented folklore from documented fact. For example, Bushman makes no effort to de-emphasize the fact that most of the Book of Mormon was likely translated not looking directly at the plates with the Urim and Thummim, but using a seerstone in a hat with the plates out of sight. This model can be challenging to those who have grown up with the seminary video version with the sheet hung between Joseph and Oliver, but it does emphasize that the translation was a revelatory experience. In addition, the seerstone version is actually more consistent with the Book of Mormon itself. (See Alma 37:23).

RSR is heavy on analysis and a bit lighter on facts. It is still well-sourced, and it won’t be incomprehensible to a novice, but it will be better if you already have some foundational knowledge of Joseph’s life. For a less analytic, more factual bio, Donna Hill’s Joseph Smith: The First Mormon (1977, Signature) is a great choice. Bushman puts emphasis on the cultural context of the events in Joseph’s life, but also seems to want to explore the aspects of Joseph’s character that transcend 19rh century America. The book would be incomplete without looking at these transcendental strands, but Bushman waxes philosophical, almost rhapsodical at times. It is a different, though no less valuable approach than Hill’s very journalistic style. I recommend it.

A good reminder

The SLTrib's Bergera gives us all a reminder of a few things that will probably be ignored over the coming year.

Is the new Mitt Romney more conservative than his own church?

That's what this Boston Globe article from December argues. The church links to the article on its own "newsroom" website. While that does not mean endorsement, it probably does mean that the church considers the article to be credible. Bennet, the author of the piece, makes the point among other things that both the current ardent pro-life Romney and the 1994 pro-choice Romney have a welcome place within the church, and that on the issue of stem-cell research, Romney's vehement opposition has placed him outside the mainstream of church members. The article actually does a very decent job of explaining the church's political neutrality and the church policies and doctrines that inform Mormon political opinions. It's worth a read.

Whitney's "The Mormons": Reactions

After watching Parts 1 and 2 of Helen Whitney's documentary last night and the night before, I have a few observations. Overall, I thought it was well done and fair. I found myself frustrated at times that she wasn't telling the whole story. For example, the section on Polygamy presented the manifesto as something that was universally excepted by the whole church at that moment and ended polygamy in an instant. In reality, Mormon polygamy died a slow death. Even two Apostles, John W. Taylor, and Matthias F. Cowley were eventually excommunicated because of their refusal to abandon "the Principle." Greg Smith's FAIR article on post-manifesto polygamy gives a thorough and well-informed treatment. Though I'm not so sure about his conclusions, he tells the story well.

Giving the simplistic view, I think, cheapens the experience of Mormon polygamy and the inspiration of the manifesto. It is important to understand how much the pioneer saints had given and sacrificed for polygamy, and how long their leaders had preached it, to understand how hard it was to give up. Against this cultural background the courage and vision of the manifesto becomes clear. The simple view makes it seem like Wilford Woodruff was left with no choice and pressured into renouncing polygamy. In reality, the pioneer saints had "endured many things and hope[d] to be able to endure all things" to preserve what they believed was right. They would have gladly submitted to exile. It is too simple to say that the church dropped polygamy to get statehood. Polygamy was several orders of magnitude more important to men like John Taylor and Wilford Woodruff than was statehood.

Instead, a more holistic view takes the manifesto against that background as a visionary and progressive document. To essentially put aside 5 decades of church practice that had been tempered in the fires of Missouri and hardened through the plains and the deserts had to be more than mere capitulation to the federal government. Recognizing this, I think, recognizes the majesty and vision of the revelation behind the manifesto.

On the other hand, to tell the whole story would have been impossible in Whitney's medium. Polygamy would take the entire 4 hours. Her treatment was probably appropriate given the constraints.

Another criticism is that on a macro level, there was too much emphasis on the Mountain Meadows Massacre and on the September Six. These stories are important, but Whitney's states purpose was to give an outsider an insider's look at the Mormon experience. Many if not most Mormons know very little about the MMM and are not plagued by it. Whitney's devoting an entire 1/6 of Part 1 to the MMM made it seem like Mormons still have a guilt complex about it. I appreciated that Will Bagley's view was countered by Glen Leonard, but it would have been helpful to know that Bagley is on the fringe of the scholarly consensus on the MMM.

One last criticism: too much screen time given to Margaret Toscano and Tal Bachman. I've read most of Toscano's work. But her excommunication was not for her work and opinions as much as it was for her refusal to recognize that her own thoughts were not revelations to the entire church. She told the horror story of her church court but there was insufficient presentation of the other side. Part of that is the practical reality that disciplinary councils are confidential and the church does not publish those proceedings, so there really is only one side of the story out there. Whitney did acknowledge this, but it was brief. You could have easily missed it if you weren't paying attention. Bachman's remark that as a missionary he would have been willing to be a suicide bomber was inflammatory and totally unnecessary. It would have been helpful to counter that with a sane returned missionary. I was also annoyed by Bachman's insistence that he daily risked his life as a missionary. Sounds like a martyr complex to me.

Overall, though, I thought it was well done. The ending was great. I recommend it, but with the caveat that it is only a superficial treatment, a survey of sorts, and that only further reading will give you a more complete view. If "The Mormons" is the basis for all your knowledge of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, your understanding will be superficial and lacking. But if you use "The Mormons" as a starting place for further reading, you will find it a great appetizer for a meatier meal.

What did you think?

Other resources:

Dave over at DMI has a nice list of the people interviewed with some info on each.

"The Mormons" website on pbs.org is a great resource with full transcripts of the interviews and more information.

The NYT gave it a positive review.

On Washingtonpost.com, Filmmaker Helen Whitney took part in a conversation with readers about the film. Her comments are worth reading.