Unfortunately, at least in terms of Church members, I suspect this has been one of the most ignored pieces of advice to come from Church leadership. Any historian of Mormonism will tell you that, even among Church leaders, diaries and journals are few and far between. And even when they exist, the events that we see as important now, were too often not seen as important in the diaries and journals of participants. Alas, I am, myself, guilty of this failure.

Wells can perhaps be forgiven for his focus on men in this article, given that it appeared in The Contributor, the organ of the Young Men’s Mutual Improvement Association (equivalent of the LDS Church’s Young Men’s organization today).

Keeping Journals

By Junius F. Wells

THE practice of writing, either for preservation in private journals or publication in current periodicals, is one that every young Elder in the Church should be encouraged to adopt and follow throughout life. Among the earliest instructions of the Prophet Joseph Smith to missionaries, as they were about to start upon their missions, was a powerful admonition “to keep a journal.” The Twelve Apostles were instructed to do so when they were first sent out, and this counsel has ever been enjoined upon missionaries and other official representatives of the Church for more than fifty years.

The object is to gather information and put upon record the dealings of God with His children as they are observed in the ministrations of His servants in these latter days. The great advantage to an Elder in keeping a journal of his travels and ministry is apparent, when we consider the opportunities he has to see the interesting places and persons of the world, to meet the various classes of society and observe the customs which distinguish them, to ruminate about the scenes of historical value and gaze upon the curious collections which scientific studies and research have contributed for the information and education of our race. As in all after life allusions to these will appear in the press and in conversation with intelligent people, knowledge of them to a greater or less extent should form part of our education. We only engage in gathering this kind of intelligence, when upon missions, incidentally. It is not the main purpose of our pilgrimage to foreign countries, but the purpose that takes us abroad gives us the opportunity to collect a useful fund of information upon all these things, while not lessening our usefulness in preaching the word and administering the ordinances of the Gospel.

Another very excellent reason why a journal should be kept by every Elder is that they may have, for convenient reference, lists of all the people they meet and become acquainted with. This is of peculiar value to us, from the fact that the Saints whom we labor among abroad are continually gathering to Zion, and we expect to meet them all again sometime; but unless we record their names and occasionally look over the history of our dealings with them, in most instances, not only the history but the names will pass from memory and leave us in that estranged condition which causes us to meet dear friends and brethren, who have ministered to our comfort when we were far from home, as strangers. There are of course exceptional instances where Elders have such excellent recollection of names and faces that they never forget, but these are far from common. We have observed and heard of many occasions where the failure to recognize the immigrating Saints, who were well known in foreign lands, has caused them bitter disappointment and pain. This would be avoided in a very great degree if journals were carefully kept and occasionally, in after years, read over to “stir up our minds by way of remembrance.”

In regard to what should go into a missionary’s journal, there ever will be great difference of opinion. The journal, if it is faithfully kept, will be the best biography of the man who keeps it that could be written. It is sure to contain characteristic sentiments enough to afford a perfect index, at least, to the character of the writer. Thus the daily journals of President George A. Smith and Wilford Woodruff are altogether superior to any kind of “Life” or “Biography” that could be written of them. But sometimes young Elders fall into a habit of recording unimportant matters in their journals. We recollect seeing a journal in which the following entry was regularly made every day for five years: “I arose this morning and ate my breakfast, after which I”-then followed an account of the day’s labors. That sentence repeated so often, if compiled, would fill a volume of itself, and was entirely unnecessary, as the presence of anything else, whatever, upon the page would indicate all that it tells. Many journals are merely railway time cards and distance tables, reiterating what every guide book contains. So far as this disposition to record time and distances relates to the personal travels of the writer, it is a good feature of his journal. It becomes quite an interesting summary to foot up the miles traveled while upon a mission or for a given number of years. But we consider that next to the faithful record of actual missionary labors, the journals of young Elders ought to be filled up with their intelligent observations of the people, scenes and objects of natural and artificial wonder which they encounter. Suppose the journals of our missionaries contained this class of matter, if they were compiled, they would form an encyclopedia of rare utility and interest. As they are kept, no doubt, the curious would be entertained for months in their perusal.

The habit of writing in a journal grows upon one and becomes a source of much pleasure. We have sometimes heard smokers of tobacco give as a reason-no man can give an intelligent reason for smoking-for indulging in the habit, “that his pipe had become a companion with which he communed and it became a great solace and comfort to him in that capacity.” Now while we cannot say much for the company such an one keeps-a hot, stinking, murky, puffing thing, both offensive and injurious-the idea of companionship which the settled habit suggests is true, and carried in another direction is very delightful, particularly in the direction of a daily journal. We are acquainted with a distinguished official of the Church, who enjoys his daily communion with his journal with all the pleasure and none of the injury that the smoker does with his pipe.

The journal may become in addition to a charming companion-if it is a charming journal-a silent monitor, a guide, a friend to succor and to save. President Woodruff once remarked in this connection, that, “So long as you keep your daily journal and write down the things you do, there is not much danger of your doing much that is wrong.” How true to the mark this observation strikes us. Go! look over your lives, and in nearly every case the mistakes, the wrong doing, the blots, will be found wanting in that period which was recorded in your journals.

From this practice of reviewing the events of each day, the memory becomes strong, particularly in its grasp of names and dates, and the habit of keeping things in order and of pursuing with method whatever occupies our time will naturally ensue. This bears a rich reward in the increased power to do; for by method one may accomplish twofold, perhaps ten-fold what the erratic worker can possibly find time to do.

Many are the reasons that might be named for urging missionaries to keep journals, but at home they will say they do not apply. It becomes insufferably irksome to chronicle the every day humdrum affairs of routine home life! Let us consider a moment what might legitimately go into a home journal that will be of interest. Firstly, the morality of the habit of writing down our acts; then the benefit to the mind in reviewing them at the close of each day, and the pleasure of a confidential companion. These ought to be sufficient, but to make the matter worth recording, if we do not find it in “arising in the morning” and in “eating breakfast,” perhaps if we will take into consideration the natural objects of interest about us, as of animal life, scenery, the people we meet, etc., we may find some entertainment and possibly develop rare powers of observation that will lead to special studies and enable us to do something in the interest of science or art that will be worth the labor, and do good to our fellow men.

The advantage of a journal to one who writes for publication is hardly to be calculated. It not only supplies him with data, but it cultivates the art he has chosen, and is a wonderful help to him when the labor of writing is required but the spirit to write is dormant. His journal then is a treasury from which he may draw in the hour of need. There are journals written in youth that have been, to some of the world’s greatest writers, the source of information, and their mainstay and principal helper in advanced years. So may we all find our journals, if we keep them faithfully now, and write down in truth the things we learn and do to-day.

The Contributor v.4 (April 1883)

I’m not sure I agree with Wells’ suggestion that “The journal, if it is faithfully kept, will be the best biography of the man who keeps it that could be written.” I’m not even sure this would be true of the best writers—often the day-to-day is quite mundane, and most readers would prefer something that concentrates on a higher level. Wells’ comparison of the habit of smoking with the habit our journal keeping is fascinating, and perhaps tells us more about Wells and the time in which he wrote than anything about keeping a journal.

I like the statement “The journal may become in addition to a charming companion-if it is a charming journal-a silent monitor, a guide, a friend to succor and to save.” This idea is, I think, the most attractive reason for keeping a journal–the idea that it will have real utility for us today.

And, in the last paragraph, Wells addresses a literary reason for writing a journal: “It not only supplies him with data, but it cultivates the art he has chosen, and is a wonderful help to him when the labor of writing is required but the spirit to write is dormant. His journal then is a treasury from which he may draw in the hour of need.”

I must admit that I don’t know how much the advice to write a diary or journal is given today — I suspect that the advice given is more along the lines of simply finding ways to write, regardless of where and what form. In a sense, perhaps, there isn’t much difference between writing in a diary and writing some piece of creative fiction each day — both are writing and both provide practice for the writer. Writing creative work may be better practice, but writing a diary is, perhaps, simpler and requires less preparation of a narrative structure, I would think. I’d be very interested in your comments about how common the advice to write a journal is today, and how it might help creative writing.

It seems to me that writing a journal today, at least for those of us in the first world, should be easier than ever. Laptops and smart phones put writing tools at our disposal 24 hours a day. Yet I suspect the frequency that even writers write in journals is no different than it was in Junius F. Wells’ day. After all, it is really about time and priorities, and not the tools, isn’t it?

[FWIW, a quick search on worldcat and in the Church's archives online shows no journal or diary from Junius F. Wells available. Too bad.]

On page 146, a couple of the main characters are speaking about the frontier of Mystria (aka America) and about an encounter they have just had with a young man who was preaching democratic/republican ideas from a Thomas Paine-style book but adding in some of his own extra radical revolutionary fervor, and one of them says:

“Makes a man wonder why a man would be saying them sort of things.”

And the other replies:

“Oh, I don’t know, Magehawk, seems obvious. Men, they come out here, they cut a town from the wilderness, they have an edge to them. The ones that come after, though, ain’t leaders. They’re followers. Sheep. Every now and again comes a wolf looking for sheep. If it weren’t Qunice, it would be some minister or a messiah. Down Oakland I hear a man dug up his own Bible and has been preaching it. Says Mysteria is the promised land and that the Good Lord wants us to make a Celestial City in the hear of the Continent. He says every man should have a dozen wives and they should bear a dozen children and God will come again to bless them all.”

Nathaniel [Wm notes: Nathaniel = Magehawk] smiled. “You going?”

“Cain’t find me one wife, so I don’t reckon there’s a point to it.” (146)

I found the reference amusing. Reductive and not flattering, I suppose, but it works well enough for the scene, and I found it amusing because it was both obvious and very almost inevitable. This is the first in the series so I wonder if it will come up again in the story (although I don’t know if that curiosity is enough for me to read the next book), but even if not, it suggests, yet again, how irresistible the Joseph Smith story is to fiction writers (and even just Mormonism as a movement [cf. all the Mormon references in science fiction]).

Today’s quotation is no exception. Here, in a defense of the Pearl of Great Price, he covers two significant issues in literary criticism. First, he weighs in on how to judge literary work, coming up with an answer that is probably not acceptable to most literary theorists today. Second, he emphasizes the individuality of each author’s style (and, perhaps by extension, the necessity of that individuality).

Here’s what he said in defense of the Pearl of Great Price:

… The passage I have read is from the Book of Abraham, translated by the Prophet Joseph Smith from papyrus found upon mummies exhumed from the catacombs of Egypt. This book was made the object of a rather fierce polemic attack a few years since, its authenticity being questioned by a scholarly gentlemen who then resided among us. His strictures were replied to by quite a number of our brethren, and the replies were published in the daily press.

Subsequently I conversed with this gentleman, and he asked me why I had not replied to him. I told him that I had been replying to him all over the country where I had been traveling, but that my reply had not happened to get into the papers. “Oh, indeed,” said he, “and what have you been saying?” “I have been saying this, in substance: That it matters not where truth is found, whether in the catacombs of Egypt, or in the mounds of North America; whether it comes through the lips of an ancient sage or a modern seer; that it matters not who translates it, or how many imperfections the translation may show; that truth is truth; and that the best criterion of judgment when the authenticity of any literary work is passed upon, is the spirit and character of its teachings.” Said he: “I agree with you; that is the best standard by which to judge the authenticity of such a work.”‘ “Then,” I affirmed, “the Book of Abraham needs no defense. It speaks for itself. It manifests its own divinity; for no one but God could have delivered such splendid teachings in such a majestic and sublime spirit as this book contains.”

There is something in every great author that stamps itself upon his writings and renders them peculiar, or characteristic of himself. There is a Shakespearean ring to Shakespeare’s writings; there is a Byronic ring to Lord Byron’s poetry; and a Miltonic ring to the productions of Milton; and any literary expert can distinguish between them. Many poets have described the sunrise, but when one of them says:

“Night’s candles are burned out, and jocund day
Stands tiptoe on the misty mountain tops,”

we know that Shakespeare has spoken; and no other poet could have worded it in just that way. Another calls upon God for inspiration,

“That to the height of this great argument I may assert eternal providence,
And justify the ways of God to men”

The lines are Milton’s, and the style is peculiar to that mighty son of song. It is the same with all great writers. The creation testifies of the creator. Is it surprising, then, that when God speaks there should be some distinguishing feature to characterize the utterance and make it different from any utterance of mortal man? There is a spirit, an indescribable quality, a divine power in the word of God that cannot be successfully counterfeited. Men have tried to counterfeit it, but have failed ignominiously.

Conference Report,
April 1917, pp. 41-42

I don’t know if I agree completely with Whitney. I do think that literary works can, and perhaps should, be judged in part on the “spirit and character of its teaching.” To me, a work can be beautify and novel in its use of the language, but if it doesn’t inform the reader of some substantial truth, how is it different from watercolors painted on the sidewalk in the rain? Such works are nice for the moment, for entertainment perhaps, but in the end they are hollow. They are too much like cotton candy.

But I’m not quite sure on his contention that there is some spark of the author in everything he writes, and that somehow that spark is unique for each author. Despite Whitney’s claims, many have been fooled with literary deceptions, and authors have been able to write in the style of others. If, indeed, the handiwork of God can be found where he has inspired an author, I’d argue that this happens more on a spiritual level than in any literary fashion. Doesn’t the existence of so many apocryphal books that have been supported by many proponents through the ages argue that it might indeed be possible to fake the “handiwork of God,” at least for those who are not spiritually in tune?

But more importantly, the idea that the spark of the divine is present in inspired works might, I think, raise the question of whether or not the author matters much. If the “spirit and character of [a work's] teachings” is most important, and divine inspiration appears in a work, then does it even matter who wrote it?

I don’t know.

Title: The Jewish Annotated New Testament: New Revised Standard Version
Editors: Amy-Jill Levine and Marc Zvi Brettler
Publisher: Oxford University Press
Genre: Scripture
Year Published: 2011
Number of Pages: 637
Binding: Hardbound in signatures
ISBN13: 978-0-19-529770-6
Price: $35

In II Nephi 29 Nephi pauses in the midst of an apostrophe to future readers who will reject his words to remind them of their debt to the Jews.

4 But thus saith the Lord God: O fools, they shall have a Bible; and it shall proceed forth from the Jews, mine ancient covenant people. And what thank they the Jews for the Bible which they receive from them? Yea, what do the Gentiles mean? Do they remember the travails, and the labors, and the pains of the Jews, and their diligence unto me, in bringing forth salvation unto the Gentiles?
5 O ye Gentiles, have ye remembered the Jews, mine ancient covenant people? Nay; but ye have cursed them, and have hated them, and have not sought to recover them. But behold, I will return all these things upon your own heads; for I the Lord have not forgotten my people.
6 Thou fool, that shall say: A Bible, we have got a Bible, and we need no more Bible. Have ye obtained a Bible save it were by the Jews?

(2 Nephi 29:4 – 6)

Nephi’s connection between hating the Jews and closing the canon is deeply intriguing, especially since Nephi speaks harshly of the Jews, of their refusal to accept his father’s revelations, of their attempts to kill his father, so harshly that he refuses to teach his people “many things concerning the manner of the Jews; for their works were works of darkness, and their doings were doings of abominations” (II Nephi 25:2).

Perhaps Nephi wrote his words to the gentiles partly to remind himself–and maybe to remind Jacob, who had said the Savior would come to the Jews because he had to die and there was “none other nation on earth [so wicked] that [they] would crucify their God” (2 Nephi 10:3)–to tone down his rhetoric, to remind his people of the Lord’s covenant with the House of Israel, which is one thing Nephi means when he uses the term Jew: “I say Jew, because I mean them from whence I came” (2 Nephi 33:8).

(Taken together with I Nephi 5:14, where Lehi tells the family he has examined the brass plates and learned they are descendants of Joseph, this passage suggests Nephi came from a culture that didn’t distinguish between the tribes. Everyone is called Judah, the largest tribe that came back from Babylon. (Not every member of the 10 tribes was lost. See Philippians 3:5, Romans 11:1, and Acts 13:21). So when Nephi uses the term Jew he means the whole House of of Israel, everyone at Jerusalem.)

Browsing the remainder table at the BYU Bookstore one day I came across a book that helped fill in the picture of how developing and setting boundaries to the Christian canon was related to forgetting who preserved the word of God in the first place. The footnotes and commentary for Willis Barnstone’s translation The New Covenant, Vol I, The Gospels and Apocalypse, read like a guided tour of the rift that developed between Jews who accepted Yeshua as Mashiach and those who didn’t, a tour of how Christians forgot their Jewish roots as Yeshua ha maschiach became Iesous the Christos.

Barnstone is very careful to identify what he calls “the voice of Rome,” passages he believes came from a desire to de-emphasize Rome’s part in Yeshua’s execution. You can see clues of the threat the Romans felt from Yeshua in passages like Loukas 23:12, where Pilate and Herod find a common enemy in Yeshua, “Herod and Pilatus became friends on that same day, though earlier they had been enemies.” Maybe the clues are vestiges of things cut from the text, but Barnstone focuses more on things like the phrase “the Jews,” which along with the Greek _Iesous_ imply that Yeshua was not a Jew.

The Prushim and all the Jews will not eat unless they wash, hand against fist, so keeping the tradition of the elders, and eat nothing from the markets unless they wash. And they keep many other traditions about washing cups and pots and copper cauldrons.
(Markos 7:3)

His parents said these things because they were afraid of the Jews, for the Jews had already agreed that anyone who confessed that Yeshua was the mashiah would be barred from the synagogue.
(Yohanan 9:22)

Or at least the passages distance us from Yeshua’s Jewishness. In the first passage the Jews are _they_, and in the second people to be afraid of. One of Barnstone’s projects with the translation is to restore Yeshua’s Jewish/Aramaic voice by using the Hebrew character and place names rather than Greek transl(iter)ations. That’s a valuable service, maybe as valuable as recovering the poetry. He says at one point that Yeshua as recorded by Mattai is one of the great world poets.

I think he overstates his argument at times. Consider this comment on Yohanan 9:28, the Prushim’s words to the man born blind:

And they reviled him and said, “You are his student, but we are Mosheh’s students.

“A reference to the superiority of Yeshua’s teaching over that of Moses and, by extension, of the New Covenant over the Jewish Bible” (340).

Or his comment on Apocalypse 3:9:

I know the blasphemy
of those who say they are Jews and are not
but come out of a synagogue of Satan.

“The demonization of the Jews in the gospels persists in Apocalypse” (317).

To me the passage is about hypocrisy, just as if you said, “those who say they are Mormons and are not, but do their sealings in the temple of Satan.” But the three words synagogue of Satan are so powerful that perhaps they overshadow the rest of the verse, which may be why the editors of The Jewish Annotated New Testament address it in their preface, saying the notes propose that the phrase “is not against Jews at all, but is against Gentile followers of Jesus who promote Jewish practices” (xii).

Their note for John 9:28 reads:

This passage sets up a contrast between the disciples of Jesus and the disciples of Moses. There is no evidence, however, that Jews referred to themselves as disciples of Moses (178).

Generally, from what I’ve read so far, the commentary in The Jewish Annotated New Testament is milder than Barnstone’s, and perhaps a bit more cautious. I particularly like the editor’s comments about how the commentators contextualize some of the more volatile statements “by showing how they are part of the exaggerated language of debate during the first century” (xi). There are a lot of passages like Yohanan 9:28 where Barnstone attributes an intent to the text that I don’t see there. And that’s the value of Barnstone’s commentary, not in giving us insight into the original intent of the gospel writers, but as a guide to how the early Christians, the people who didn’t think of themselves as Jews, reinterpreted the incidents in Iesous-nee-Yeshua’s life to blame and villify the tradition the early Christians had sprang from, far from.

One of my projects during the next few years will be to trace the passages I think were reinterpreted, and it looks like The Jewish Annotated New Testament will be invaluable in giving a sense of what the text might have meant to those first messianic Jews before or maybe after they were first called Christians at Antioch (see Acts 11:26).

The two books are valuable correctives to each other. Barnstone works a lot with the idea that the texts of the New Covenant were altered to amplify “the voice of Rome.” He seeks to diminish that voice. His work with resonate with Latter-day Saints who want to think about what Joseph Smith might have meant with his comment about corrupt and designing priests altering the scriptures.

The Jewish Annotated New Testament approaches the matter somewhat differently. My oldest son said, “Oh, giving cultural context?” when I mentioned the book to him, but others have given a puzzled or apprehensive look that says, ‘Jews don’t believe in Jesus. Is this a book that challenges our belief in his divinity and miracles?’

One can imagine the editors getting the same kinds of quizzical looks. “Many Jews are unfamiliar with, or even afraid of reading, the New Testament” (xii).

When I introduced the book to my Gospel Doctrine class at the nursing home I told the story of Chaim Potok coming to BYU in the early 1980s. Someone asked him the ritual question, “Have you read the Book of Mormon?” (He had been discussing his concept of the core-to-core culture confrontation, and the Book of Mormon is the core of our culture.)

He said he had a copy but hadn’t read it, because Jews read with a commentary and there wasn’t a commentary to guide his reading. The editors of The Jewish Annotated New Testament confirm that practice. The next sentence after the one I quoted above says, “Its content and genres are foreign, and they need notes to guide their reading.”

So the book gives Jews the tools to understand the New Testament and Christians the tools to understand the care and scholarship Jews bring to their study of scripture, including maps, charts, sidebar essays, diagrams, tables, glossary, cross references to Talmudic and other sources, index and nearly 200 pages of essays, starting with “Bearing False Witness: Common Errors Made About Early Judaism,” and including “Paul and Judaism,” “Food and Fellowship,” and “Josephus.”

The editors assure us they are not trying to convert Christians to Judaism, or Jews to Christianity–”It is very possible for the non-Christian to respect a great deal of the (very Jewish) message of much of the New Testament, without worshipping the messenger.”

That word respect is important to the editors: “As professional scholars, the authors of the annotations and essays approach the text with the respect that all religious texts deserve” (xii).

I’ll close with just two insights here. We all realize that John quotes the opening of Genesis in his gospel, but listen to the comment about Matthew’s opening: “Genealogy, Gk ‘geneseos,’ perhaps an allusion to the book of Genesis” (3).

And Luke 2:7 (since I got the book just before Christmas): “_Manger_ feeding trough; the symbolism anticipates the Last Supper (22.19). _Inn_, Luke gives no indication residents rejected the family; there may have been no room for the privacy needed for the birth” (101).

If Barnstone’s translation is the work of a scholar/poet thinking to thank the Jews, to calculate the debt we gentiles owe in gratitude, Amy-Jill Levine and Marc Zvi Brettler and their editors’ work is thinking to thank the Jews for.

From the text below, it is not hard to assume that Bro. Brigham not only encourages the study of evil, but its presentation in literature. How can evil be studied if it can’t be seen or presented? His reaction, apparently colored by an overly strict upbringing (in his view, at least), is that children need to experience life, and that the more we know about everything, the better. Here is what he said:

… Now, brethren and sisters, receive the exhortation and counsel of brother Snow, and profit by it; and employ the rest of your lives in good thoughts, kind words, and good works. “Shall I sit down and read the Bible, the Book of Mormon, and the Book of Covenants all the time?” says one. Yes, if you please, and when you have done, you may be nothing but a sectarian after all. It is your duty to study to know everything upon the face of the earth, in addition to reading those books. We should not only study good, and its effects upon our race, but also evil, and its consequences.

I make these remarks to lay the foundation for principle in the minds of the people; and if you do not yet understand what I would be at, I will try to illustrate it still further. For example, we will take a strict, religious, holy, down country, eastern Yankee, who would whip a beer barrel for working on Sunday, and never suffer a child to go into company of his age—never suffer him to have any associates, or permit him to do anything or know anything, only what the deacon, priests, or missionaries bring to the house; when that child attains to mature age, say eighteen or twenty years, he is very apt to steal away from his father and mother; and when he has broken his bands, you would think all hell was let loose, and that he would compass the world at once.

Now understand it—when parents whip their children for reading novels, and never let them go to the theater, or to any place of recreation and amusement, but bind them to the moral law, until duty becomes loathsome to them; when they are freed by age from the rigorous training of their parents, they are more fit for companions to devils, than to be the children of such religious parents.

If I do not learn what is in the world, from first to last, somebody will be wiser than I am. I intend to know the whole of it, both good and bad. Shall I practice evil? No; neither have I told you to practice it, but to learn by the light of truth every principle there is in existence in the world.

Still further. When I was young, I was kept within very strict bounds, and was not allowed to walk more than half-an-hour on Sunday for exercise. The proper and necessary gambols of youth having been denied me, makes me want active exercise and amusement now. I had not a chance to dance when I was young, and never heard the enchanting tones of the violin, until I was eleven years of age; and then I thought I was on the highway to hell, if I suffered myself to linger and listen to it. I shall not subject my little children to such a course of unnatural training, but they shall go to the dance, study music, read novels, and do anything else that will tend to expand their frames, add fire to their spirits, improve their minds, and make them feel free and untrammeled in body and mind. Let everything come in its season, place everything in the place designed for it, and do everything in its right time. And inasmuch as the Lord Almighty has designed us to know all that is in the earth, both the good and the evil, and to learn not only what is in heaven, but what is in hell, you need not expect ever to get through learning. Though I mean to learn all that is in heaven, earth, and hell. Do I need to commit iniquity to do it? No. If I were to go into the bowels of hell to find out what is there, that does not make it necessary that I should commit one evil, or blaspheme in any way the name of my Maker.

Do you not suppose the Lord is there, and knows all about it? I am satisfied of it. If He is not there, when the wicked inhabitants of the earth begin to inquire where they shall flee to escape from His presence, they will find a hiding place in hell. If the wicked wish to escape from His presence, they must go where He is not, where He does not live, where His influence does not preside. To find such a place is impossible, except they go beyond the bounds of time and space.

…

From Organization and Development of Man,
a discourse by President Brigham Young
delivered in the Tabernacle, February 6, 1853.
In Journal of Discourses, v4, p. 90-96.

I have to admit, I don’t know at all how to square this with the suggestions of others, from Reynolds (and probably earlier) to Elder Boyd K. Packer, who have clearly worried about the presentation of evil and urged Church members to avoid it. But I think the above provides some nice balance to the discussion, and may be helpful the next time I have a discussion with someone about ‘R’-rated films and literature.

In the mean time, I’ll ponder on how to study evil without letting it influence me to do evil.

Today’s “sermon” comes from George Reynolds, who had been released from prison in January, 1881, just eight months before this essay was published. He had served a 5-month-long sentence after losing the test case for the constitutionality of the federal law against polygamy, Reynolds v. United States. He was later called as a member of the First Council of the Seventy.

While Reynolds’ prison sentence may have influenced him, I’m not convinced that his imprisonment was the principle reason for the harsh views against outsiders expressed here. Rather, I suspect that these views were common among the Saints in Utah at that time, at least in part because of the prosecution of polygamy.

Despite the motivations behind this essay, there are some interesting, and some very surprising, points in it. Reynolds’ early suggestion that a theocratic, patriarchal civilization is superior to a democratic government will be quite surprising to today’s readers, as is his suggestion that one of the reasons that outside literature weakens the faith of members is that it presents monogamy instead of polygamy.

I must admit that this latter argument, that the Saints in Utah needed to avoid works that didn’t portray polygamy, had never occurred to me. But, when I think about it, I realize that today we have a counterpart to this logic, something that appears often in our children’s literature — books that aim to make a particular home situation seem normal or mainstream. I’m not just speaking of alternative lifestyles (such as homosexuality), but also what we would consider positive: disabilities, living with grandparents or foster parents or a single parent. Where we see such books as often positive and a good way to help children develop sensitivities towards these situations and see them as normal, Reynolds sees it as crucial that the Utah Saints of his day see polygamy as correct and normal, as opposed to everything else. And, to be frank, this is one of the underlying reasons for Mormon Literature: the desire for literature that portrays our way of life and values.

Reynolds goes on to raise another issue which we debate still today: the portrayal of evil in literature. Just like Church leaders and members today, Reynolds objects to the portrayal of infidelity in fiction, suggesting that familiarity leads to adoption. He even cites Alexander Pope’s dictum, which is still familiar to us today.

So, while Reynolds’ words were written for a different time, much of what he says addresses the same issues we are still discussing and arguing about in Mormon literature today.

I should add, lest anyone think otherwise, that just because I’ve selected this essay and posted it here does NOT mean that I agree with its logic or conclusions.

[I have cut out one portion -- a few paragraphs -- of the essay and inserted an ellipsis (…) where I cut . I have left spelling as it is in the original.]

Influence of Outside Literature

by George Reynolds

“He that is not with me is against me.” — Jesus.

There is a fact, that no one need disguise, (if any, indeed, have such an inclination) as it is felt and realized even more forcibly and vividly by those not of us than by the Latter-day Saints themselves. It is this—that the civilization which we are seeking to establish is widely different, and often opposed to the civilization of the ninteenth century by which we are the most closely surrounded and intimately connected. Ours is theocratic, patriarchal, and based on the recognition of the right of the Supreme Creator of the Universe to direct his creatures in all things. Their’s is an outgrowth, a gradual development, a mixture of Christian ethics and pagan philosophy, practically atheistical in its modes of national government, even when theoretically otherwise, and democratic in its tendency and workings. Their’s is Babylon the Great, ours is the Kingdom of God.

…

One of the most powerful weapons of modern times is the printing press. It is almost entirely in the service of Satan, and well he uses it. Its tendency is almost universally to antagonize the principles, truths and ideas that the Latter-day Saints are laboring to establish. Not, indeed, generally by direct reference to them and their works, but by the dissemination of theories, doctrines and teachings with regard to religion, government, morals, sociology, and every thing else that affects man, that are opposed to the revelations of God. These gain influence over the minds of men in two directions, first by undermining the faith of believers, and secondly by strengthening the skepticism of those who believe not. It is to the first of these two classes that we address our remarks.

Literature bearing an inimical influence, coming into our midst from the strongholds of the enemy cannot fail to have an effect upon us. Its presentment of life so far as it is accepted as the true one, to the same extent stamps ours as false.

As examples of what we mean, we will refer to our governmental and social politics, and draw attention to the fact that the very best works published by the world in science, philosophy, or fiction have a direct influence in weakening our position, if we permit their arguments to have weight with us.

The civilization of the Latter-day Saints recognizes God as the source of all legitimate authority on earth as well as in heaven; that of the peoples by whom they are surrounded, and from whose midst they gather is based on the assumption that men can govern themselves without God’s immediate help, control or direction. Thus their publications treating on civil government and kindred subjects entirely ignores the necessity of the Creator, or the right of his representatives to take any part in human affairs, and whilst some of these writers acknowledge that there is a God, others deny his existence altogether. But so far as the the practical government of the world is concerned they both equally leave Him out of the question. The influence of books of this kind cannot but be detrimental to the spiritual health of those who are not intelligent enough to perceive the weakness of the arguments used, and with such has the direct effect of lessening their faith in, and respect for God’s government on earth; for they ask, “if the machinery of man’s government be so perfect, what need is there of God, if there be a God, overturning the present order of things by revelations which so strongly condemn and threaten all that has not its origin in the divine will;” or “if the world is progressing so rapidly, as is claimed, without the direct interposition of providence, why not let humanity work out its own problems unmolested .and untrammeled ?” Thus we see the axe is laid at the root of the necessity of man living by every word that proceeds from the mouth of God, and doubt and distrust takes the place of faith and confidence.

In no feature is the genius of the Church of God more at variance with that of modern Babylon than in its ethics of social life; pre-eminently with regard to the marriage covenant. Modern Christian writers, when treating upon the subject of marriage, whether viewing it from a religious, legal, or social standpoint, universally (with one or two unimportant exceptions), claim that the union of one man with one woman only, is the true order of matrimony, and that a man cannot honorably and sincerely love two or more women at the same time as wives should be loved. This falsehood is still more strongly though indirectly, enforced in the current works of fiction, whether in prose or song which treat as most of them do, on the affections of the human heart. Literature of this class extols a state of society utterally inconsistent with that which will exist when the government of God holds sway upon the earth. Those of our people who are addicted to the habit of reading this class of works, and of filling their minds with their plots and episodes, insensibly to themselves imbibe a spirit and develop a state of feeling antagonistic to the teachings of divine revelation, which dwarfs their growth in heavenly principles and measurably unfits them for the realities of life. Take, as an example, the young lady whose mind is crowded with thoughts and fancies of the impossible and unnatural heroes and heroines of romance, and whose matrimonial aspirations are turned in the direction of some modern counterpart of her beau ideal of chivalry, then how insignificant, how wearisome, how disgusting become the constantly recurring duties of her every day life as a wife and a mother; whilst plural marriage she personally avoids as utterally incompatible with the notions she has formed of life in its most desirable forms; or if she does enter that order the recollection of her former imaginings and the influence of her early reading will occasionally embitter her daily toil, or add a flavor of unrest to her character which naturally would not exist, but which can be traced legitimately and directly to the vicious mental food on which she subsisted in her girlhood. The effect, more or less, of these things is of course modified by the original strength of character of the individual and the faith, firmness, intelligence and wisdom which distinguish it.

There is a second class of works of fiction, which though reputably respectable, have a very detrimental and injurious effect on the minds of the youth. They are that class on which our popular “Society Dramas” are founded, novels whose plots lie in infractions of the seventh commandment, in the infidelity of husbands and wives to their marriage vows. And though the tale may be told in unexceptionable language, yet the moral is two frequently infamous. They create in the minds of many who read them a familiarity with crimes of this description, and as familiarity breeds contempt, so the youthful learn to regard sexual sins in a far different light to that in which they are exposed in God’s holy word. Again, these works have a tendency to beget curiosity as to things forbidden, and to prematurely develop in the youth feelings and passions which cannot be righteously exercised, and as they cannot be gratified they must be suppressed and conquered. It is well that they should be suppressed, but how much better if they were never unnaturally and artificially developed before the proper age, for even the task of virtuous suppression occasionally leaves the mind scarred with the wounds of the spiritual conflict, besides affecting the unmatured body unhealthily. In matters of this kind it is folly to be too wise in the knowledge acquired through these muddy channels, for they are not the legitimate sources of such information.

Again there is a yet lower and still more dangerous description of literature, which we shall dismiss with a very few words, it is that which is, and is intended to be impure, though it frequently evades the powers of the law. It is to be regretted that periodicals verging on this class are sold by the score in our larger cities, and non-Mormons are not the only purchasers. The suggestive and half indecent pictures alone tell the tale of their contents and intent without any perusal of the letter-press. Such publications are unmitigated evils, rank mental poison, and are amongst the most powerful engines at the command of the Evil One to draw the unweary down to death and destruction. Their influence as a weapon framed against the development of God’s purposes is most potent, as Zion, the pure in heart, can never be built up by any people who permit themselves to be polluted with impurities such as these suggest, and as naturally grow out of their perusal. For to this species of vice most pertinently apply the words of the poet:

“Vice is a monster of such hideous mein,

That to be hated needs but to be seen;

But seen too oft, familiar with her face,

We first endure, then pity, then embrace.”

Admitting the foregoing statements and arguments to be true, it may be well to ask, what lessons do they teach? We answer, first of all the paramount necessity of the Saints possessing a literature of their own, proceeding from themselves; or if not entirely original, selected by wise men from those works which contain the least error. This will be a work of time, and in the meanwhile it becomes our duty to obtain wisdom from the best books, but trusting to them only as the works of man, liable to contain error, and discarding them entirely wherein they deny or throw doubt on the existence of God, or contradict, insult, or outrage any of the laws, principles or truths that it has pleased him in his abundant mercy to reveal unto us.

From The Contributor (2) September 1881, p. 357.

Sacred Poetry

by W. W. Phelps

EVERY thing that comes from the Lord, is sublime; this sublimity clothing the prophecies, and giving the Psalms a glory and sweetness, touching the saint’s heart with thoughts that whisper like the still small voice to Elijah, and delighting the souls with words that moisten, as the dew that descended upon the mountains of Zion: for there the Lord commanded the blessing, even life for ever more; yea, this sublimity, which may be called the beauty of holiness, common writers have never touched: no; never; for that flight of mind which caused the Psalmist to exclaim:

Such knowledge is too wonderful for me;

it is high, I cannot attain unto it.

Whither shall I go from thy spirit?

or whither shall I flee from thy presence?

if I ascend up into heaven, thou art there;

if I make my bed in hell, behold thou art there.

If I take the wings of the morning,

and dwell in the uttermost parts of the sea;

even there shall thy hand lead me,

and thy right hand shall hold me.

If I say, surely the darkness shall cover me;

even the night shall be light about me.

Yea, the darkness hideth not from thee;

but the night shineth as the day,

the darkness and the light are both alike to thee?

For thou hast possessed my reins,

thou hast covered me in my mother’s womb;

I will praise thee;

for I am fearfully and wonderfully made:

marvelous are thy works;

and that my soul knoweth right well:

Psalms 139:6-14

Yes, that peace of mind; that love of divine things; that confidence in the Lord; that saith in the world to come; that dependence upon Jesus Christ; and that joy of heart that gladdens the soul, and happifies the body in every place, and under all the trials and troubles of this present life, can not be found in common books: comfort and satisfaction, like light and truth, come from God. One reason, perhaps, that the sacred poets came nearer the standard of truth, or, in fact, came up to it, with less fancy, and more beauty, than common poets, is because the Hebrew, in which they wrote, was nearer the pure language, with which Adam gave names, than any other since used by man. Another reason, and one, too, that never fails, is that those holy men wrote as they were moved by the Holy Ghost. One of the greatest specimen of Prophetic poetry, is found in the song of Moses. Nothing but the Spirit of the living God could have directed such sublime ideas: the first line is not spoken to earth, or heaven, alone, but is addressed to the heavens; and who can read it without being almost led within the veil; let us read:

The Song of Moses

Give ear O ye heavens, and I will speak;

and hear, O earth, the words of my mouth.

My doctrine shall drop as the rain,

my speech shall distil [distill] as the dew,

as the small rain upon the tender herb,

and as the showers upon the grass:

because I will publish the name of the Lord:

ascribe ye greatness unto our God.

He is the Rock, his work is perfect:

for all his ways are judgment:

a God of truth and without iniquity,

just and right is he.

They have corrupted themselves,

their spot is not the spot of his children:

they are a perverse and crooked generation.

Do ye thus requite the Lord,

O foolish people and unwise?

is not he thy father that hath bought thee?

hath he not made thee, and established thee?

Remember the days of old, consider the years of many generations:

ask thy father, and he will shew [show] thee;

thy elders, and they will tell thee.

When the Most High divided to the nations their inheritance,

when he separated the sons of Adam,

he set the bounds of the people

according to the number of the children of Israel.

For the Lord’s portion is his people;

Jacob is the lot of his inheritance.

He found him in a desert land,

and in the waste howling wilderness;

he led him about, he instructed him,

he kept him as the apple of his eye.

As an eagle stireth [stirreth] up her nest,

fluttereth over her young,

spreadeth abroad her wings,

taketh them, beareth them on her wings;

so the Lord alone did lead him,

and there was no strange god with him.

He made him ride on the high places of the earth,

that he might eat the increase of the fields;

and he made him to suck honey out of the rock,

and oil out of the flinty rock; butter of kine,

and milk of sheep, with fat of lambs,

and rams of the breed of Bashan, and goats,

with waxed fat of kidneys of wheat;

and thou didst drink the pure blood of grape.

But Jershurun waxed fat, and kicked:

thou art waxen fat, thou art grown thick,

thou art covered with fatness;

then he forsook God which made him,

and lightly esteemed the Rock of his salvation.

They provoked him to jealousy with strange gods,

with abominations provoked they him to anger.

They sacrificed unto devils, not to God;

to gods whom they knew not,

to new gods that came newly up,

whom your fathers feared not.

Of the Rock that begat thee thou art unmindful,

and hast forgotten God that formed thee.

And when the Lord saw it, he abhorred them,

because of the provoking of his sons,

and of his daughters.

And he said, I will hide my face from them,

I will see what their end shall be:

for they are a very froward generation,

children in whom is no faith.

They have moved me to jealousy

with that which is not God;

they have provoked me to anger

with their vanities: and I will move them

to jealousy with those which are not a people;

I will provoke them to anger with a foolish nation.

For a fire is kindled in mine anger,

and shall burn unto the lowest hell,

and shall consume the earth with her increase,

and set on fire the foundations of the mountains.

I will heap mischiefs upon them;

I will spend mind arrows upon them.-

They shall be burnt with hunger,

and devoured with burning heat,

and with bitter destruction:

I will also send the teeth of beasts upon them,

with the poison of serpents of the dust.

The sword without, and terror within,

shall destroy both the young man and the virgin,

the suckling also with the man of gray hairs.

I said, I would scatter them into corners,

I would make them the remembrance of them

to cease from among men;

were it not that I feared the wrath of the enemy,

lest their adversaries should behave themselves strangely,

and lest they should say, our hand is high,

and the Lord hath not done all this.

For they are a nation void of counsel,

neither is there any understanding in them.

Oh that they were wise, that they understood this,

that they would consider their latter end!

How should one chase a thousand,

and two put ten thousand to flight,

except their Rock had sold them,

and the Lord had shut them up?

For their Rock is not as our Rock,

even our enemies themselves being judges:

for their vine is of the vine of Sodom,

and of the fields of Gomorrah [Gomorra]:

their grapes are grapes of gall,

their clusters are bitter:

their wine is the poison of dragons,

and the cruel venom of asps.

Is not this laid up in store with me,

and sealed up among my treasures?

To me belongeth vengeance, and recompense;

their foot shall slide in due time:

for the day of their calamity is at hand,

and the things that shall come upon them make haste.

For the Lord shall judge his people,

and repent himself for his servants;

when he seeth that their power is gone,

and there is none shut up, or left.

And he shall say, where are there gods,

there rock in whom they trusted,

which did eat the fat of their sacrifices,

and drank the wine of their drink-offerings?

let them rise up and help you, and be your protection.

See now that I, even I am he, and there is no god with me:

I kill, and I make alive; I wound, and I heal:

neither is there any that can deliver out of my hand.

For I lift up my hand to heaven, and say, I live for ever.

If I whet my glittering sword, and my hand take hold on judgment;

I will render vengeance to mine enemies,

and will reward them that hate me.

I will make mine arrows drunk with blood,

and my sword shall devour flesh;

and that with the blood of the slain

and of the captives from the beginning

of revenges upon the enemy.

Rejoice, O ye nations, with his people:-

for he will avenge the blood of his servants,

and will render vengeance to his adversaries,

and will be merciful unto his land, and to his people.

Deuteronomy 32:1-43

What a prophecy is contained in the last verse! He will be merciful unto his land, and to his people: so he will; and we can exclaim: O that the Lord were come to Zion, that his saints might see eye to eye, and might speak a pure language! But the time is short, for Zephaniah says, the determination of the Lord is, to gather the nations, that he may assemble the kingdoms, to pour upon them his indignation, even all his fierce anger; for all the earth shall be devoured with the fire of his jealousy. For then will he turn unto the people a pure language, that they may all call upon the name of the Lord, to serve him with one consent. From beyond the rivers of Ethiopia his suppliants, even the daughter of his dispersed, shall bring his offering. In that day shalt thou not be ashamed for all thy doings, wherein thou hast transgressed against him; for then he will take away out of the midst of thee them that rejoice in thy pride, and thou shalt no more be haughty because of his holy mountain. He will also leave in the midst of thee an afflicted and poor people, and they shall trust in the name of the Lord. The remnant of Israel shall not do iniquity, nor speak lies; neither shall a deceitful tongue be found in their mouth: for they shall feed and lie down, and none shall make them afraid. Sing, O daughter of Zion; shout, O Israel; be glad and rejoice with all the heart, O daughter of Jerusalem. The Lord hath taken away thy judgments, he hath cast out thine enemy: the King of Israel, even the Lord, is in the midst of thee: thou shalt not see evil any more. In that day it shall be said to Jerusalem, Fear thou not: and to Zion, Let not thy hands be slack. The Lord thy God in the midst of thee is mighty, he will save, he will rejoice over thee with joy; he will rest in his love, he will joy over thee with singing. He will gather them that are sorrowful for the solemn assembly, who are of thee, to whom the reproach of it was a burden. Behold, at that time he will undo all that afflict thee: and he will save her that halteth, and gather her that was driven out; and he will get them praise and fame in every land where they have been put to shame. At that time will he bring you again, even in the time that he gathers you: for he will make you a name and a praise among all people of the earth, when he turns back your captivity before your eyes, saith the Lord.

The Evening and the Morning Star, November 1832, p. 45.

I think the citation of the Song of Moses is interesting, at least. Mormons seem less likely than other Christians to refer to portions of the bible by the traditional names that have developed. Yes, we refer to the Sermon on the Mount and a few others, but there are many, many more passages, like the Song of Moses, that have been given names that we don’t use. I wonder if I could find a list somewhere.

This is, I think, an interesting start for Mormon literary criticism, one that says a lot about where Mormon thought was at that point.

]]> http://www.motleyvision.org/2012/sunday-lit-crit-sermon-w-w-phelps-on-sacred-poetry/feed/ 8 http://www.motleyvision.org/2012/sunday-lit-crit-sermon/ http://www.motleyvision.org/2012/sunday-lit-crit-sermon/#comments Sun, 01 Jan 2012 21:00:27 +0000 Kent Larsen http://www.motleyvision.org/?p=6363 If we define literary criticism as any discussion of literature or its role, then LDS General Authorities have frequently been literary critics, from the beginning of Mormon publishing. Yesterday I came across the following description from Orson F. Whitney, buried, of all places, in his pamphlet/short book, The strength of the “Mormon” position.

The Poet’s Mission

An American poet, Doctor J. G. Holland, has this to say of the poet and his mission: “The poets of the world are the prophets of humanity. They forever reach after and foresee the ultimate good. They are evermore building the Paradise that it is to be, painting the Millennium that is to come. When the world shall reach the poet’s ideal, it will arrive at perfection; and much good will it do the world to measure itself by this ideal and struggle to lift the real to its lofty level.”

In the light of such a noble utterance, how paltry the ordinary concept of the poet as a mere verse builder. His true mission is to lift up the ideal and encourage the real to advance towards it and eventually attain perfection. The poet, in this age of money worship, is often ridiculed as a “dreamer”; but the ridicule, when applied to a genuine son of song, is pointless. The poet is a dreamer; but so is the architect, and the projector of railroads. If there were no dreamers, there would be no builders; if there were no poets, there would be no progress. Poets are prophets of a lesser degree, and the prophets are the mightiest of the poets. They hold the key to the symbolism of the universe, and they alone are qualified to interpret it. There are plenty of rhymesters who are neither poets nor prophets, and there are poets and prophets who never build a verse, nor make a rhyme.

Rhyme is no essential element of poetry. Versification is an art employed by the poet to make his thought more attractive. The rhyme helps the sentiment to reach the heart. A musical instrument, say a piano or an organ, is painted and gilded, not to improve its musical powers, but to make it beautiful to the eye, while its music appeals to the ear and charms the soul. Rhyme has about the same relation to poetry as paint or gold leaf to the organ or piano, and no more.

The essence of poetry is in its idealism. God has built his universe upon symbols, the lesser suggesting and leading up to the greater; and the poetic faculty, possessed by the prophet in fulness, recognizes and interprets it. All creations testify of their creator. They point to something above and beyond. That is why poetry of the highest order is always prophetic, or infinitely suggestive; and that is why the poet is a prophet, and why there is such a thing as poetic prose.

A thing is poetic when it suggests something greater than itself. Man, fashioned in the divine image, suggests God, and is therefore “a symbol of God,” as Carlyle affirms. But Joseph Smith goes further. He declares God to be “an exalted Man.” To narrow minds this is blasphemy; but to the broad-minded it is poetry—poetry of the sublimest type.

In the sacrament of the Lord’s Supper, what is there of sacred efficacy in the bread and water, taken alone? There is not water enough in the ocean, nor bread enough in all the bakeries of the world, to constitute the Lord’s Supper. All that makes it effective as a sacrament is the blessing pronounced upon it by the priesthood, and the symbolism whereby those elements are made to represent something greater than themselves, namely, the body and blood of the Savior. What is done then becomes a holy ordinance, full of force and effect, a poem in action.

The same is true of baptism. Jesus said: “Except a man be born of water and of the Spirit, he cannot enter into the Kingdom of God.” He meant baptism, which symbolizes birth or begetting. The priest when baptizing performs in a mystical or spiritual way the function of fatherhood. Motherhood is symbolized by the baptismal font. “Children of my begetting,” is a phrase used by the ancient apostles to characterize their converts, who are also referred to as “babes in Christ,” fed upon “the milk of the word.” Paul says, concerning baptism: “We are buried with Him by baptism into death: that like as Christ was raised up from the dead by the glory of the Father, even so we also should walk in newness of life.” (Romans 6:4.) This shows that baptism, when properly administered, is a symbol of burial and resurrection—rebirth. But the symbolism must be perfect or the ordinance is void. To sprinkle or pour water upon the candidate for baptism, destroys the symbolism, or the poetry of the ordinance. It does not represent a birth—a burial and a resurrection. When the body is immersed, however,—and that is the meaning of the Greek term to baptize—descent into the grave is typified; and when the body is brought up out of the water, birth or coming forth from the grave is symbolized. To be baptized or resurrected is equivalent to being “born again.” The soul, cleansed from sin, is typical of the soul raised to immortality. Such is the poetry of baptism and the resurrection.

Jesus Christ, the greatest of all prophets, was likewise the greatest of all poets. He comprehended the universe and its symbolism as no one else ever did, and he taught in poetic parables, taking simple things as types, and teaching lessons that lead the mind upward and onward toward the ideal, toward perfection. We must not despise poetry; it is indispensable, even in practical affairs. The Gospel of Christ is replete with poetry. None but the ignorant pass it by as a thing of naught.

Whitney, Orson F., The strength of the “Mormon” position.

Deseret News Press, 1917

Whitney has more to say, of course, but the above is, I think, one of the strongest statements in support of literature from a General Authority that I’ve seen (Whitney was called to the Quorum of the Twelve in 1906, so this statement was written while he was an Apostle.) I particularly like the connect of poet with prophet.

Perhaps, as we start this year, we can find a way to live up to Whitney’s views of literature.

Grant Hardy’s Understanding the Book of Mormon: A Reader’s Guide is unquestionably the most important piece of Mormon criticism in the last few years. The way he has dissected the Book’s text and structure is remarkable. And while of course Book of Mormon criticism has been done before, I don’t think anyone has taken it nearly as deeply.

(Which is funny because, if I have any complaint about Hardy’s book, it’s that sometimes it could have gone on for another thirty dozen pages without boring me. All I want for Christmas is for this book to be twice as long.)As someone who reads the Book of Mormon as seriously as I’ve read any book—as someone who has probably read the Book of Mormon more times than any other book (likely exception)—as someone who finds critical/literary analysis of the Book to be both intellectually and spiritually satisfying—as such a person, reading this deeply serious analysis of the underlying structures of the Book of Mormon has been utterly thrilling.

Ever since, as a high-school student, I read Orson Scott Card’s “The Book of Mormon—Artifact or Artifice?” in Storyteller in Zion, I’ve been aware that there is more to the Book of Mormon than I learned in Primary or by skimming over the verses on those occasional nights my parents remembered to hold family scripture-study.

The Book of Mormon is a delightfully complex book. But outside scholars have generally refused to see its complexity and I saw people at Church focusing more on believing than dissecting; and so outside Card’s essay and my college-era subscription to the Journal of Book of Mormon Studies, I’ve felt pretty much on my own here.

(Note: I know this impression is a. unfair and b. my own fault, but let’s not fixate on my failings here.)

Understanding the Book of Mormon is written to believers and unbelievers alike and Hardy creates a  regular schedule to break from the action and remind people who dismiss the Book of Mormon as fiction that hey! people read fiction seriously! you can read this seriouslyo! Frankly, I thought covering that in the introduction was enough and we didn’t need to be reminded every few pages that, yes, we’re allowed to think Nephi and Mormon are made-up if we want.

Then again, maybe he didn’t do it enough. Here’s some excerpts from the least favorable Amazon review:

This book presents a detailed discussion of the Book of Mormon. However, when one starts from the position of blind faith, accepting Joseph Smith as a prophet and everything he wrote as a revelation from God, much of the discussion ends up being so laudatory it detracts from any of the value judgments the author makes. . . . [Note: although Hardy is a believer, I can imagine plenty of people who would find his openness on some points an attack on their faith.]

The Ostlings . . . [blah blah blah]

The most significant problem with Grant Hardy’s book is that it tries to make the Book of Mormon into something it is not. The Book of Mormon is not great literature, nor is it filled with much wisdom. Regardless of whether you think Joseph Smith a prophet or a charlatan, the Book of Mormon is not pleasant to read; most will find it is poorly written, and has little to recommend it to non-Mormons, especially when compared to the King James Bible. It lacks the poetry of Psalms, the Wisdom of Solomon, or the charity and ethics in The Sermon of The Mount and other lessons in the New Testament. . . . Grant Hardy does not take that view, nor can one expect him to.

Clearly the author of this review did not read Hardy’s book (interesting fact: this is this person’s only Amazon review). Hardy’s book demonstrates the opposite of all of these points quite well. I know that the more I read the Book of Mormon, the better I understand it and the more literary worth I find therein.  A book like this helps my understanding leap forward, but it’s not creating something that is not there: the Book of Mormon has great literary worth and stands up to serious analysis.

Hardy’s strategy is to talk about the Book’s primary narrators, Nephi, Mormon, and Moroni. He describes their apparent and connoted motivations and shows how their writing moves those goals toward fruition. This post is already nearing the overlong, so I won’t spend too much time discussing how the three writers variously use, say, embedded documents; instead I  want to leave you with a heartfelt pitch for this book.

Hardy’s book opened up my own understanding, just as his title promises. Until we understand the writers and characters of the Book of Mormon as people, we can only read them as icons and allegories, which, imho, is shallow and limiting. As real people (or, for you nonbelievers out there, as well drawn fictional constructs), these characters begin to teach and instruct and suggest and inform in the ways we learned about in high school when we read Hamlet or Atticus or Ahab. Reading the Book of Mormon as literature is worthy, fruitful, and fun. And, frankly, as a believer, finding something new is what keeps me reading.

Let Hardy dump a whole load of new on you all at once.

I’ve just read How to Read Literature Like a Professor and I’m pleased enough with it that I’m figuring out how to implement it into my classes. In essence, it’s all the stuff English majors should know by the end of their sophomore year of college—how to read a text to find patterns like journeys and season, what might meaneth the rainbow, or why, to be fully literate, one must know some Bible, some Greek myth, some Shakespeare. In other words, great stuff for the demographic I teach.

The final chapter contains Katherine Mansfield’s lovely short story “The Garden Party” along with analysis from college students, followed by some from the professor himself. I read the story while walking to school and did not spend much time analyzing it myself before reading others’ responses to the story. I had noticed some patterns etc and figured I had a pretty solid grasp on the story. Then it was pointed out to me that it is a Garden of Eden story and I immediately felt hugely embarrassed. As an Eden junkie, how did I miss this? Reading while walking is no excuse.

It’s in that spirit of contrition that I will now discuss Sorensen’s tale (read online).My first sin is that, instead of the story, I was thinking about the introduction’s revelation that this story premiered in The New Yorker (but in 1955—not 1953). And so I have images of Mr Thurber and Ms Jackson and Mr White and Ms Parker and all my favorite old-timey New Yorker writers and here comes one more reminiscent story of rural Utah. And, I don’t know if you’ve heard my whine about this before, but I’m kind of tired of reminiscent stories of rural Utah.

[BREAKING NEWS: Just now, I realized why this story of irrigation ditches and murder was so familiar to me---I'd heard a very similar story once in General Conference. From David E. Sorensen. He's just twenty years younger than Virginia and I need your help: are they related? Could both stories share the same real-life source? Note that the stories have some significant differences but that only one claims to be nonfiction.]

Anyway. As that parenthetical suggests, the story is about a murder committed over an irrigation squabble. The narrator is someone who lives far away and for whom her erstwhile community is now  far away in more than just physical distance.

She is no longer surrounded my hard-working men with white beards and Scandinavian accents (who are now mostly dead anyway); she seems, in fact, to have no connection left other than the clippings her mother sends her from Mormon newspapers. She finds it somewhat difficult to dive back into the past, having to repeat the phrase “the Tolsen trouble” a few times before she can finally relay the story. Then, at the end of the story, she reveals that, out of her family’s respect for the man involved, she had never before told this tale. The story bookends, in other words, within a code of silence.

The story is well written but I did not particularly enjoy it. As a specimen of its type, it is good. But I did  not read it like a professor. I don’t doubt that it’s craft is even better than I realized, trying, as I was, to get through yet another reminiscent rural-Utah story instead of taking more seriously my first reading of an important Mormon author. Of this I am, of course, suitably ashamed. Though not enough to reread yet another reminiscent rural-Utah story to see what I’ve missed. I trust you will forgive me.

As the first story read in this project, this is not my most stellar bit of criticism. On the other hand, I must admit that even though I’m no great fan, I am glad to have read one of the earlier and better versions of a tale type so successful that it’s become a seeming inevitability. And, in all honesty, rural Utah is one of the important story types Mormon culture has to tell. (Sorry that I’m bored with them.)

I go forward with the intention to engage more deeply! Join me!

Next up: Maurine Whipple.

(to see previous posts in this series, try the Bright Angels & Familiars tag)