*Update: The title of this post--about the old news--comes off a bit snarky, which was not my intent. I'm bad at titles, and was trying to sum up my post in a few words. A better title would be: "Not Quite a Secret." I would change it, but that can mess up URLs and stuff.
Yesterday, the Church released the pictures of Joseph Smith's seer stone and there has been a great deal of furor, with some people saying that they felt lied to, or at least that the truth was kept from them.
I don't mean to minimize these concerns, and I'm sorry that some people feel so troubled by this news. I am not trying to argue with anyone's feelings, nor address larger issues. But a lot of the discussion I've seen seems based on the premise that the Church has been covering this story up, and that's the idea to which I want to respond, because it's a fairly factual sort of thing.
This seer stone/hat thing has been public knowledge, at least since at least 1993 when then-Elder Nelson's talk to the Mission Presidents was printed in The Ensign. It may well have been out there before that, but I started paying attention to stuff like this in 1993.
In the talk, "A Treasured Testament," Elder Nelson acknowledged, "The details of this miraculous method of translation are still not fully known. Yet we do have a few precious insights. David Whitmer wrote: 'Joseph Smith would put the seer stone into a hat, and put his face in the hat, drawing it closely around his face to exclude the light; and in the darkness the spiritual light would shine. A piece of something resembling parchment would appear, and on that appeared the writing. One character at a time would appear, and under it was the interpretation in English. Brother Joseph would read off the English to Oliver Cowdery, who was his principal scribe, and when it was written down and repeated to Brother Joseph to see if it was correct, then it would disappear, and another character with the interpretation would appear. Thus the Book of Mormon was translated by the gift and power of God, and not by any power of man.'(David Whitmer, An Address to All Believers in Christ, Richmond, Mo.: n.p., 1887, p. 12.)"
The Ensign is a pretty public forum, so this doesn't seem like the Church was hiding much to me.
Beyond that, the account published in the text of The Book of Mormon talked about the Urim and Thummim. It is the account I learned in Primary and Seminary. Is a seer stone all that much more unusual than the old account, which basically amounts to two seer stones attached to an ancient breastplate?
In other words, it's not like the Church has been putting forth a rational, logical explanation for years and was suddenly caught suppressing the bizarre truth. Now, if Joseph had claimed to have translated this according to his own knowledge of ancient languages, or to have written it himself, this would be shattering to those claims.
But Joseph claimed to translate this by the gift and power of God, including various seeric objects (the presence of which are mentioned in The Book of Mormon) Is the specific method or instrument really that important?
The coming forth of The Book of Mormon has always required a degree of faith and suspension of disbelief. It required believing in angels, visions, and the translation of an ancient record by an uneducated boy on America's frontier. It required faith to believe yesterday. It requires faith to believe today*.
I sincerely believe it to be the word of God. It's power in my life is beyond dispute. I feel closer to God when I read. It feeds my soul and convinces me that I want to be more like the Savior, Jesus Christ. It teaches of grace and love and mercy, of the hope for redemption, and of the physical reality of Jesus in persistent and profound ways. But these feelings have always had to be arrived at in a way that had nothing to do with the physical creation of the book.
**Update: Based on a comment, I want to make it clear that I'm not saying this doesn't matter at all, nor do I mean to imply that if someone is struggling they simply need to have more faith (in a glib sort of way. All of us need more faith, I suppose). But I did want to point out that this account has been published in an official, very public Church source and is, technically, not something new. And, that accepting The Book of Mormon has really never been a strictly rational proposition.
Wednesday, August 5, 2015
Monday, August 3, 2015
Tender Mercies on the Spiral Staircase: A Personal Reflection on Struggles, Blessings, and the Eternal Round
Fifteen or sixteen years ago, we lived in New York City, where we had moved so I could pursue a doctoral program. We had three small children, lived in a tiny apartment, and because of serious concerns about the local school, my wife home-schooled. We both had demanding Church callings in our small branch, and I worked full-time and went to school full-time, taking as may credits as possible to graduate as soon as possible.
We loved the people we met--neighbors, members of the Church, and colleagues at school and work. They were kind to us and so wonderful. But, we were far away from home and our accustomed support network, doing difficult things in a place that was so different than what we were used to, it seemed like a foreign country some time.
All of these factors took a heavy toll. These years were incredibly difficult in just about every dimension of life: financially, emotionally, physically, and that included a lot of stress on the marriage. It triggered some pretty severe depression and anxiety in me, and things were very bleak. (It was hard for my wife as well, but she's a private person so I'm not going to talk about her as much).
I don't mean to imply it was all bad. God certainly walked with us, and supported us, mostly by sending some of the wonderful people I mentioned above. We had some great adventures; our children were exposed to the richest cross-section of people I can imagine, saw some important historical sites, and had a bonding experience we still reference. It was hard, but it also served as crucible in some important ways.
Early on in this adventure, our district had a visitor, Elder Craig W. Zwick of the Seventy. Many of the members of our little branch had never seen a General Authority. Our branch took in some of the worst projects and areas in Brooklyn, and probably New York City. People lived very humbly, and it was beyond exciting to have a visitor from headquarters.
Because I played the piano, I was usually asked to be the accompanist at any meeting, and this was no exception. I played the hymns for a priesthood leadership meeting, the Saturday night adult session, and then the two general sessions (we always had two of everything: one in English, one in Spanish). Elder Zwick was inspiring and he fed our souls, helping us feel the Spirit, and conveying the love of God in such a powerful way it nearly felt tangible.
And then he left, and life went back to normal. Back to the day-to-day difficulties and the challenges and the intense stretching as we struggled to be parents, and struggled to pay bills, and struggled to go to school, and struggled to homeschool, and struggled to work, and struggled to be there for each other and on and on. Suffice it to say, we struggled.
For a large part of that time, we lived next door to a senior missionary couple from Utah, Elder and Sister Hymas. They adopted us and showed us great kindness in so many ways. A number of other couples did the same thing, but Elder and Sister Hymas were closest to us geographically, and also had the longest tenure there.
Sister Hymas did her laundry at the same time as my wife and she became an anchor for her. This wise and loving woman had lived through hard times, had raised a family and was now well into grandchildren. She gently gave advice sometimes, but mostly, she listened and just allowed my wife to have someone to talk to.
Well, fast-forward sixteen years or so. Saturday, I was asked to play the piano at a large Church training meeting. Because of other callings I've had, I haven't played the piano at a meeting in eight or nine years. But I was happy for the chance.
The visiting authority was Elder Craig W. Zwick. He was accompanied by Elder Hymas, also of the Seventy--the son of the Elder and Sister Hymas we loved so much.
The meeting itself was good (and that is saying something since I generally don't like meetings). But more than that, I was overwhelmed with powerful emotions.
Playing the piano in a meeting with Elder Zwick reminded me of that meeting years earlier, and I could not help but note the contrast in our lives.
Those three children have grown up now; all three of them will be heading off to college this fall, two on full scholarships. Two have returned from missions, and the other isn't old enough, but has a list of academic accomplishments that make me proud. They have all worked incredibly hard this summer, saving money and giving every indication of being successful adults.
We've since been joined by two more children, both of whom bring life and joy to our home and hearts. They will be our companions now, and we are excited to have an adventure with just the two of them.
The doctorate is done, and it has gone on to bless our lives in more ways than I can name. It has been profoundly helpful and positive for our family. Likewise with the experience I gained working full-time as a teacher in NYC.
We live now in a quiet, tree-filled place. It is a modest house, but it is more comfortable and much nicer than the old apartment where we lived. Our yard is larger than the entire block we lived on in NYC. I still go out at night and enjoy the silence, the lack of smells from uncollected garbage, and the silence--the absence of yelling or sirens or honking, or the loud garbage truck with flashing lights that came every Wednesday night at 1:00 AM to empty the dumpster in the factory across the street.
Perhaps most of all, the stress and difficulty of those years formed a bond between my wife and I. We are not perfect, nor is our marriage. But it has gone from being something we had to constantly work at, to being something we enjoy. The comfort we have with each other, the connection, and the confidence bring deep stability and comfort to us.
God has blessed us in ways I never could have imagined, and probably wouldn't have dared to dream. Our life isn't perfect, but it is so good. And so much better. In addition to the tender mercies he gave us, then--and there were many of those--I am struck by another things.
The choices we made in those years have yielded tremendous dividends. Because we were desperate for blessings, we lived the gospel as best we could, following prophetic counsel, keeping commandments and covenants. All those things--covenants, counsel, and commandments were enormous gifts from God because they taught us how to receive blessings we didn't even know were possible. They were investments in long-term blessings and happiness.
I believe Stephen Covey was the one who suggested that when the Lord says his course is "one eternal round," we might consider that as an upward spiral.
I have noticed over the years that my spiritual life often seems circular, or at least cyclical. A wonderful scriptural example of this is the fact that the angel who was originally sent to reprove Alma the Younger was the same angel who came years later to comfort him during a trying time in his ministry (Alma 8:14-16).
I suppose the point of these experiences is to encourage us by allowing to look down that long spiral staircase and see just how far we've come. This pattern seems to me to be one of the tenderest of the tender mercies of the Lord.
We loved the people we met--neighbors, members of the Church, and colleagues at school and work. They were kind to us and so wonderful. But, we were far away from home and our accustomed support network, doing difficult things in a place that was so different than what we were used to, it seemed like a foreign country some time.
All of these factors took a heavy toll. These years were incredibly difficult in just about every dimension of life: financially, emotionally, physically, and that included a lot of stress on the marriage. It triggered some pretty severe depression and anxiety in me, and things were very bleak. (It was hard for my wife as well, but she's a private person so I'm not going to talk about her as much).
I don't mean to imply it was all bad. God certainly walked with us, and supported us, mostly by sending some of the wonderful people I mentioned above. We had some great adventures; our children were exposed to the richest cross-section of people I can imagine, saw some important historical sites, and had a bonding experience we still reference. It was hard, but it also served as crucible in some important ways.
Early on in this adventure, our district had a visitor, Elder Craig W. Zwick of the Seventy. Many of the members of our little branch had never seen a General Authority. Our branch took in some of the worst projects and areas in Brooklyn, and probably New York City. People lived very humbly, and it was beyond exciting to have a visitor from headquarters.
Because I played the piano, I was usually asked to be the accompanist at any meeting, and this was no exception. I played the hymns for a priesthood leadership meeting, the Saturday night adult session, and then the two general sessions (we always had two of everything: one in English, one in Spanish). Elder Zwick was inspiring and he fed our souls, helping us feel the Spirit, and conveying the love of God in such a powerful way it nearly felt tangible.
And then he left, and life went back to normal. Back to the day-to-day difficulties and the challenges and the intense stretching as we struggled to be parents, and struggled to pay bills, and struggled to go to school, and struggled to homeschool, and struggled to work, and struggled to be there for each other and on and on. Suffice it to say, we struggled.
For a large part of that time, we lived next door to a senior missionary couple from Utah, Elder and Sister Hymas. They adopted us and showed us great kindness in so many ways. A number of other couples did the same thing, but Elder and Sister Hymas were closest to us geographically, and also had the longest tenure there.
Sister Hymas did her laundry at the same time as my wife and she became an anchor for her. This wise and loving woman had lived through hard times, had raised a family and was now well into grandchildren. She gently gave advice sometimes, but mostly, she listened and just allowed my wife to have someone to talk to.
Well, fast-forward sixteen years or so. Saturday, I was asked to play the piano at a large Church training meeting. Because of other callings I've had, I haven't played the piano at a meeting in eight or nine years. But I was happy for the chance.
The visiting authority was Elder Craig W. Zwick. He was accompanied by Elder Hymas, also of the Seventy--the son of the Elder and Sister Hymas we loved so much.
The meeting itself was good (and that is saying something since I generally don't like meetings). But more than that, I was overwhelmed with powerful emotions.
Playing the piano in a meeting with Elder Zwick reminded me of that meeting years earlier, and I could not help but note the contrast in our lives.
Those three children have grown up now; all three of them will be heading off to college this fall, two on full scholarships. Two have returned from missions, and the other isn't old enough, but has a list of academic accomplishments that make me proud. They have all worked incredibly hard this summer, saving money and giving every indication of being successful adults.
We've since been joined by two more children, both of whom bring life and joy to our home and hearts. They will be our companions now, and we are excited to have an adventure with just the two of them.
The doctorate is done, and it has gone on to bless our lives in more ways than I can name. It has been profoundly helpful and positive for our family. Likewise with the experience I gained working full-time as a teacher in NYC.
We live now in a quiet, tree-filled place. It is a modest house, but it is more comfortable and much nicer than the old apartment where we lived. Our yard is larger than the entire block we lived on in NYC. I still go out at night and enjoy the silence, the lack of smells from uncollected garbage, and the silence--the absence of yelling or sirens or honking, or the loud garbage truck with flashing lights that came every Wednesday night at 1:00 AM to empty the dumpster in the factory across the street.
Perhaps most of all, the stress and difficulty of those years formed a bond between my wife and I. We are not perfect, nor is our marriage. But it has gone from being something we had to constantly work at, to being something we enjoy. The comfort we have with each other, the connection, and the confidence bring deep stability and comfort to us.
God has blessed us in ways I never could have imagined, and probably wouldn't have dared to dream. Our life isn't perfect, but it is so good. And so much better. In addition to the tender mercies he gave us, then--and there were many of those--I am struck by another things.
The choices we made in those years have yielded tremendous dividends. Because we were desperate for blessings, we lived the gospel as best we could, following prophetic counsel, keeping commandments and covenants. All those things--covenants, counsel, and commandments were enormous gifts from God because they taught us how to receive blessings we didn't even know were possible. They were investments in long-term blessings and happiness.
I believe Stephen Covey was the one who suggested that when the Lord says his course is "one eternal round," we might consider that as an upward spiral.
I have noticed over the years that my spiritual life often seems circular, or at least cyclical. A wonderful scriptural example of this is the fact that the angel who was originally sent to reprove Alma the Younger was the same angel who came years later to comfort him during a trying time in his ministry (Alma 8:14-16).
I suppose the point of these experiences is to encourage us by allowing to look down that long spiral staircase and see just how far we've come. This pattern seems to me to be one of the tenderest of the tender mercies of the Lord.
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