Testimonies

I Am a Mormon

I am a Christian: I believe that Christ is my savior and redeemer. I am a Mormon: I believe that Christ has spoken and appeared many times beyond what is documented in the Bible; I do not deny him the willingness or capacity to do that. I love and cherish the extra-biblical records of Christ’s dealings with people in the Americas, and what he said to them, especially during the 1800s in the United States. I delight in the enrichment that Mormonism provides me about Christ’s purpose, character, and love for God’s children all over the world.

In 2006 my wife and I visited the American University of Armenia. The president of that university oriented me to the country and its history with the aid of a large map, explaining the early meaning of the names of key territories. When he was finished he had left out one territory – a part of ancient Armenia that now lies within the borders of Turkey south of Mount Ararat. Instead of a one- or two-word designation, this area had a phrase for its title.

“What about this area?” I asked.

“Oh, that’s a very old name” he said.

“What does it mean?”

“It has a very traditional meaning.”

“What would be the literal translation?”

“It could be translated different ways.”

“Are you reluctant to tell me about this area?” I asked.

He looked at me, and then at the map. “One interpretation is ‘The land where the people of God descended from the mountain.’ The other is ‘The land where the Son of God appeared to his people after his resurrection.’” When he said that he looked at me again as if to monitor my reaction; I smiled and almost together we said “other sheep” [John 10:16; 3 Nephi 15:21; 3 Nephi 16:1-3].

I was then, and still am, grateful for my willingness to study beyond what the world considers the limits of conventional Christian literature, where can be found more of the words of Christ and his prophets. Mormon scriptures challenge my intellect and provide me with an abundance of mind- and soul-satisfying insights that enrich the literature of the entire world.

One simple example is the words of Christ given to Joseph Smith in Missouri in 1832. They clarify that Christ gives commandments to men “that you may understand my will concerning you; Or, in other words, I give unto you directions how you may act before me, that it may turn to you for your salvation.” [D&C 82:8-9]

I haven’t found any other place in holy or wisdom literature that provides such a simple clarification of what a commandment is—a directive to guide me to salvation. But Mormon scriptures provide more; they explain that God’s directives and associated blessings are based on irrevocable laws that have their origins in the depths of the eternities.

There is a law, irrevocably decreed in heaven before the foundations of this world, upon which all blessings are predicated – And when we obtain any blessing from God, it is by obedience to that law upon which it is predicated. (Doctrine and Covenants 130:20-21)

For all who will have a blessing at my hands shall abide the law which was appointed for that blessing, and the conditions thereof, as were instituted from before the foundation of the world. (Doctrine and Covenants 132:5)

My profession is biology and agriculture. I earned my PhD in plant physiology at the University of Minnesota. I worked for thirty years in Minnesota, researching some of nature’s laws, and have documented how an attempt to manage an ecosystem contrary to those laws always proves to be unwise. Although such management might be appealing in the short term, long-term studies confirm that practices contrary to the laws of nature eventually damage the farmer’s pocketbook as well as his surrounding landscape and communities.

I’m not a sociologist, but I have observed nature’s laws operating in societies much as they do in agriculture. I have worked in several countries of the world, mostly in those that are poverty stricken. I confidently conclude that what the poorer peoples of the world need most is not monetary or technical assistance; they need virtue. Data from Cambridge University documents an overwhelming negative correlation between a country’s corruption and its prosperity.

I testify that within the scriptures that are unique to Mormonism are many not-to-be-found-elsewhere directives and insights based on irrevocably-decreed natural laws that, if followed, will not only bless people’s lives and their lands and cultures, but will also improve the welfare of their eternal souls.

I have found that many of us are prone to challenge scriptural-based directions to long-term happiness, or to criticize them because we find them inconvenient to our fashionable desires. We may declare a doctrine to be debatable in order to justify our preference to disobey it for short-term pleasure. In fact we go about gathering evidence, stories, and “proofs” that will help us sustain our defensiveness and contrariness. I appreciate the insight offered in the Book of Mormon from the prophet Alma, who said to his wayward son Corianton, whom he loved:

And now behold, my son, do not risk one more offense against your God upon those points of doctrine, which ye have hitherto risked to commit sin. (Alma 41:9)

The Book of Mormon is an astounding book filled with great stories and profoundly-worded devotions to Christ. It is the most compelling book I have come across. Just one example is Alma chapter 36, which is a masterful presentation of the centrality of Jesus in our lives. It’s an intricately-composed completely-original literary masterpiece that never fails to move me.

The Doctrine and Covenants is amazing. In it we repeatedly find the nineteenth-century words of Christ, spoken in the first person, giving explanations of his character, his purpose, and his methods—with words and insights that cannot be found anywhere else, although comparable to the writings of Isaiah. Consider:

Hearken, O ye people of my church, to whom the kingdom has been given; hearken ye and give ear to him who laid the foundation of the earth, who made the heavens and all the hosts thereof, and by whom all things were made which live, and move, and have a being. . . . Listen to him who is the advocate with the Father, who is pleading your cause before him—Saying: Father, behold the sufferings and death of him who did no sin, in whom thou wast well pleased; behold the blood of thy Son which was shed, the blood of him whom thou gavest that thyself might be glorified; Wherefore, Father, spare these my brethren that believe on my name, that they may come unto me and have eternal life. (Doctrine and Covenants 45:1-5)

In hundreds of Mormon scriptures I find similar insights and enrichments to my understanding of the Bible, including the nature and attributes of the Holy Ghost and how I can qualify for his companionship, the worth and value of souls, how the devil operates, how I may more fully receive personal revelation, and so much more.

In summary, I believe that Christ has shared his irrevocably-decreed laws and directions for happiness and salvation with his disciples in many lands and at many times. I believe that Christianity is vibrant, and living, and open to fresh revelation right now in the twenty-first century. I look forward to learning more about what he has said. (When will we get those Armenian records?) To date I am yet to encounter such a mother lode of wisdom and guidance as I find in the combined scriptures of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.

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R. Kent Crookston was raised on a wheat and dairy farm in Magrath, Alberta, Canada, and served as a missionary for the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints in New Zealand. He received a B.S. from Brigham Young University in agronomy, and then earned an M.S. and a Ph.D. from the University of Minnesota in plant physiology. After a 1972 postdoctoral fellowship with the Canada Department of Agriculture and a two-year stint as a research associate at Cornell University in Ithaca, New York, he taught for twenty-five years at the University of Minnesota. From 1984 to 1986, he served as resident coordinator of a USAID / University of Minnesota project in Rabat, Morocco, where he was also an adjunct professor at the Institut Agronomique et Vétérinaire Hassan II. While at the University of Minnesota, he was the founding director of the Minnesota Institute of Sustainable Agriculture (1988-1992) and the head of the Department of Agronomy and Plant Genetics (1990-1998).

In 1998, Dr. Crookston accepted appointment as a professor in the Department of Plant and Wildlife Sciences and dean of the College of Biology and Agriculture at Brigham Young University. Having completed his tenure as dean in 2005, he currently serves as associate director of the University’s Faculty Center.

A fellow of the Crop Science Society of America and the American Society of Agronomy, and the holder, since 1999, of an honorary professorship at the Institut Agronomique et Vétérinaire Hassan II, in Rabat, Morocco, Dr. Crookston has consulted on projects and with organizations in Mexico, the Philippines, Senegal, Niger, Nigeria, Rwanda, Ghana, France, Oman, Morocco, England, Ecuador, and Armenia, and at various places in the United States of America. His research has focused on such areas as photosynthetic physiology, photosynthate partitioning and grain growth, applied crop management (e.g., of corn and soybeans), and academic administration. His publications have appeared in numerous volumes of acts and abstracts, and in such journals as Plant Physiology, Annals of the Missouri Botanical Garden, Canadian Journal of Plant Science, Crop Science, Planta, Agronomy Journal, Berichte der Deutschen Botanischen Gesellschaft, Journal of the American Horticultural Society, New Phytologist, Plant Growth Regulator Bulletin, American Journal of Alternative Agriculture, Journal of Production Agriculture, Actes Editions – Institut Agronomique et Vétérinaire Hassan II, Journal of Natural Resources and Life Sciences Education, Renewable Agriculture and Food Systems, Academic Leader, and The Department Chair. He is the co-author of Decision Cases for Agriculture (Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 1992), and the author of chapters in books published in the United Kingdom, the Netherlands, France, Germany, and various places in the United States. He has written numerous popular articles on various subjects; has, on four occasions, won the Excellence in Agricultural Journalism Award from the American Society of Agronomy; and is co-holder of a patent for a method of increasing corn yields.

Posted November 2010

Faith of an Historian

My early memories are of a home where answers were clear-cut. My dad was an adamant critic of FDR and he saw most other things just as firmly. Nonetheless, he seemed to have no reservation about my attending the University of Utah. In fact, there was no question about it.

Perhaps one reason was Henry Eyring. When I was a deacon, the famous scientist spoke in our stake conference as a member of the Deseret Sunday School Union Board. Dad and I sat together, listening. Brother Eyring said that we believed in truth—and truth was to be found widely. “If you want to be an anthropologist, become the best you can be. If you want to be an astronomer, do not hesitate to pursue the subject to the limit. But do not set the gospel aside in your pursuit of truth. Live it every day and attend church regularly and pray daily as you pursue truth in the gospel and in secular settings.” I was excited to my limit. That was what I wanted to do.

Another influence was J. Hazel Whitcomb. She was my high school history teacher. She had us read competing textbooks, and we discovered that they didn’t always agree. We also prepared research papers where we had to propose ideas, not just recite others’ findings. Then there was Valois Zarr’s debate class, where we learned to argue both sides of a question and took the state championship while doing it.

So I registered for summer quarter at the University of Utah right after graduation from high school. My four professors that quarter were Drs. G. Homer Durham, Sterling McMurrin, Emil Lucki, and Lowell Bennion. In my ten years of higher education following that first quarter, I never had a greater cast, despite being at a university in another state and one in Europe.

Toward the end of that summer quarter in G. Homer Durham’s class on American Political Government, we reached the topic of Franklin Delano Roosevelt. Professor Durham built a case both for and against the New Deal. I listened patiently, taking detailed notes and expecting a conclusion where we would settle on Dad’s side. That never happened. He left that to us. I was stunned. He had become an icon for me during that quarter but he was not to be an icon like my father. I couldn’t imagine that he might choose either side. For me there was only one side where truth resided.

That was the beginning of a whole new life—one that would lead away from dogma and toward suspended judgment.

The experience with Sterling McMurrin was more predictable but equally unsettling. His course was the “Philosophy of Religion.” I took it because I was brash. I felt I could safely encounter the most distinguished secular Mormon without being unsettled in my faith. And I wasn’t unsettled. McMurrin didn’t intend to unsettle me. What happened was that I became sympathetic to his views without abandoning mine—more suspended judgment.

Then there was Emil Lucki. He was a Jesuit-trained medievalist and a practicing Catholic. Catholicism was a long way from where I wanted to be but Lucki embodied top level scholarship, not a crusader but insightful. I came to revere him and he took an interest in me.

Finally, there was Lowell Bennion. He was the Director of the LDS Institute of Religion at the “U.” Ironically, he and Sterling McMurrin were close friends despite their conflicting views. In all the many hours I spent in his classes over six years, I do not recall him advocating the things I expected of him. He was known as a Mormon who was critical of the church policy of withholding the priesthood from Blacks. But he never said a word about it in or outside class. No dogma, no crusade. Instead he involved us in service projects for widows and immigrants and those who were ill and, yes, some of them were black. In religion classes he had us consider Jesus. What would Jesus have us do?

As a graduate student I took a seminar from him called, “Your Religious Question.” He had us prepare a question on paper with many dimensions of its implications. He went over it with us individually. Then he sat in the back of the room as we conducted the seminar after giving our colleagues our paper. I chose to discuss “The conflict between the sacred and the secular.” When I wrote that question, I thought it was original. Yet Dr. Bennion reminded me that it was the center of intellectual life in the Middle Ages.

I adopted Lowell Bennion as my mentor. That he did graduate work in Germany impressed me and I chose to do the same.

When Elaine and I became engaged to be married, my father had just died and was not available to give us a marriage interview. I asked Dr. Bennion to counsel with us. We went, anticipating some advice about sexual relations. Instead he talked about careers. He said, “Doug, you will soon be looking for an academic teaching position. Don’t take a job at Dixie College, for example, with the intent of moving on to Cedar City and then to Utah State. Instead, look seriously at that first place. Do you have what they need? Could you be fulfilled by staying there for decades?” I realized he was lifting my view from “get-aheadism” to service. Ethical professional-ism was the right goal. At that interview I asked Dr. Bennion to be a witness at our marriage, in place of my father. He kindly obliged. Imagine how many students he had and how many of them asked him for such favors.

More changes came as I moved out of state to doctoral graduate training. One of my professors was a committed socialist. He was the top scholar dealing with socialism in Belgium. That was not where I felt comfortable, but he took an interest in me. He helped me learn to write and invited Elaine and me to their home for a European dinner. We were required to do a significant research paper for his class.

Because of his specialty, I chose to write about socialism, not in Belgium but in Austria, because I knew a lot about that country where I had served an LDS mission. I knew he could open some doors for me and he did. I knew he would be a great guide. It ended up that my paper led to a dissertation on that topic. He sent me to the Hoover Institution at Stanford University and to the University of California at Berkeley to meet colleagues of his and they led me to excellent sources. That research had me examining the clash between Socialists and Catholics in the 1920s in my beloved Austria. Again I was examining doctrines well beyond my comfort zone. With his and my German History professor’s help I was able to win a Fulbright Fellowship to go to the University of Vienna and do my dissertation research on the site where it happened.

There were other professors at the University of Oregon who influenced me. In a European History seminar one day, Dr. Pierson looked at me and questioned me: “Douglas, do you think you could ever be a Socialist?” It took me five seconds to respond, “No, that’s not me.” Nonetheless, that did not mean that I could not be objective about understanding socialism. Another professor, Quirinas Breen, was a Calvinist. In his year-long Medieval History class there were four Mormons, four Lutherans, three Catholics and four United Brethren and about fifteen of no religious commitment. That year for us was a spiritual feast as well as a rigorous experience writing three research papers.

In the first quarter I chose to write on the Cathedral school at Chartres. I discovered that the best book on the subject was in French. I told him about it and he said that I should learn French well enough to read the book and he would give me an incomplete until I did. That was my motivation to pass the French test.

Once I won that Fulbright Fellowship, Elaine and I and our three year-old son, Scott, moved to Vienna and lived most frugally. I was a committed Latter-day Saint, attending and serving in the church there, and at the same time delving into the historical documents about the Socialist and Catholic political parties right after World War I. I knew that my biases had me feel critical about both views so I labored to be objective. I came to be respectful of Otto Bauer, the brilliant head of the Austrian Social Democratic Party, as a well as being objective about his opponent, Ignaz Seipel, a masterful Catholic priest and head of the Catholic party. I worked every day at being objective as I read the documents in the archives and even interviewed colleagues of these two learned but dogmatic opponents.

I shall never forget the experience I had defending that dissertation before my doctoral committee at the University of Oregon. As I entered the room they were laughing. I was taken aback. Upon my inquiry about their reaction, they said they were laughing at my bias. I stopped them short and explained that, yes, I was not a committed Socialist nor a devoted Catholic. I had worked hard to be objective. Their reply was: “Oh no. You achieved that well, but you were so pained to see the Nazis destroy both parties and end democracy in Austria in the early 1930s.” I was shocked, realizing that my objectivity did not include being neutral about the Nazis. Try as I might I could not find virtue in Adolf Hitler and his destruction of democracy. I felt fine about that limit to objectivity—and so did the committee.

When I began teaching European History at Utah State University and publishing my research, I was finally in the setting for which I had so long prepared. It was the fulfillment of nearly two decades of desire to become a scholar/teacher. Now, however, I was no longer a student, but there were students looking at me as I had looked at G. Homer Durham. That transition was humbling. Almost unknowingly, I took his stance—arguing objectively on both sides. One example was most memorable. I taught a seminar in the Honors Program about Utopias. I had each student choose a utopian society and do a research paper and present copies to the other students to read and then we would discuss it. We considered the Shakers, the Oneida Community, the Hutterites, Sir Thomas More, Plato, Fourier, St. Simon, Robert Owen, Cabet, and others. Many utopian experiments were quite socialistic. I worried that people in the community might become alarmed, but they didn’t. Hopefully both the students and the community respected the possibility of objectivity.

During my first year as a faculty member at USU, I came to know Leonard Arrington. He reawakened my interest in Mormon history. My master’s thesis dealt with the immigration of German-speaking Latter-day Saints to Utah from 1850 to 1950. It took me to the LDS Church Archives where the documents were available.

Prior to that I had a good dose of Utah history as an employee at the University of Utah Library. I shelved books in the Utah Room where Dr. John A. Widtsoe’s personal library was housed. It had a few thousand books, many of which were of an anti-Mormon viewpoint. I became aware that Mormon history was steeped in controversy. While there I also read some recent books of a more balanced view, such as Juanita Brooks’ Mountain Meadows Massacre.

At Utah State, Professor Arrington and Professor S. George Ellsworth helped me realize that something was changing in Mormon history. Leonard’s book, Great Basin Kingdom, was published by Harvard University Press and Juanita Brooks’ famous book came out through Stanford University Press. I knew enough about university presses to understand that they would not publish “defenders of the faith” kinds of writing nor would they accept diatribe attacks such as I found in Dr. Widtsoe’s collection of nineteenth century books. The presses were secular. They wanted history that was objective, based on factual documents, not dogma. For many decades Mormon history writing had been mainly partisan.

Stimulated by Juanita Brooks and promoted by Leonard Arrington, a new approach emerged. It came to be called “New Mormon History.” It aimed at being genuinely objective and acceptable as such to the scholarly community. Though it had some critics, it has proven to be successful and prolific. This development fit right into my evolution, beginning with G. Homer Durham. I have associated closely with the scores of scholars who write this kind of Mormon history, even serving one year as President of the Mormon History Association.

At the end of my first academic teaching year I was completely surprised to be called to serve as Bishop of the USU 2nd Ward (single students). I was thirty-two years old, barely a decade older than the ward members. Elaine held the hand of our five-year-old son, Scott, at the meetings in the LDS Institute of Religion on Sundays. A year later she brought our baby daughter, Elise, with her. I mention this bishopric experience because it was a spiritual high, spending about thirty hours a week counseling students who came to their bishop for guidance. They pulled me into a much greater understanding of the Gospel.

This bishopric was the fulfillment of my years as a youth and high school student. I had marvelous friends through those formative years. They made righteous decisions and kept me on that path. I had powerful seminary teachers and that same level of spiritual virtue carried on to college. When the Korean War came along the Church found it necessary to stop calling full-time missionaries. That was a shock to me because I assumed that I would soon be called.

Our cohort of friends had to figure out what we would do instead of being called on full-time missions. Some volunteered for the military service rather than be drafted. A few of my friends and I decided to go to the temple as though we were going on missions. For me that was a highlight I still revere.

Then a savvy stake president called many of us on a stake mission. I had a great companion, John Harmer, and we took it seriously. Two years later we did in fact get to go on full-time missions. I am still closely connected to the Saints in Austria where I served.

Amazingly, one of the most powerful spiritual experiences I had was serving on active duty in the U. S. Army following the mission. There I saw the dramatic contrast in the lives of those who lived virtuously and those who did not.

That topic of virtue is one of deep meaning to me, having experienced that virtue in high school and college, in the mission field and in the army. I encountered it among my students at USU and especially in the two singles wards where I served as bishop. My marriage to Elaine Reiser is my greatest treasure of virtue. Living in preparation for that marriage and in loyalty to it is sacred. This is where my faith has multiplied—in experiencing the beauty and power of gospel living in the lives hundreds of people I know well. Every day as a professor and bishop and temple sealer, I feel the spiritual radiance of those who live their sacred covenants.

This has little to do with scholarship or objectivity but I know personally that one who works in secular ways can be spiritually attuned also. It goes back to what Henry Eyring said sixty-five years ago. We believe in truth and must pursue it wherever it can be found. But we do not set the Gospel aside during that pursuit. We live by faith and commitment. We dedicate ourselves to the Lord. We experience tensions but we pray. We set virtue as a vibrant standard and keep ourselves open to the Lord’s spirit.

I remember a moment in my early teen years. I read that Hugh B. Brown wanted a witness that the Gospel is true. He prayed and received an answer. As a thirteen-year-old I also wanted such an affirmation. I wanted to be like my Dad—absolutely firm, no doubting. I prayed and did not receive such an epiphany.

I am so blessed.

Instead it has been my path to live by faith. I have been privileged to be able to venture into secular searching but also to experience the Gospel spiritually all the way because of obedience, teachers, friends, callings, and especially my great companion and family. Suspended judgment and spiritual commitment have worked for me. Thanks, Dr. Eyring.

Oh that cunning plan of the evil one!
Oh the vainness, and the frailties,
and the foolishness of men!
When they are learned they think they are wise,
and they hearken not unto the counsel of God,
for they set it aside, supposing they know of themselves,
Wherefore their wisdom is foolishness.
And it profiteth them not. And they shall perish.

But to be learned is good if they hearken
Unto the counsels of God. (2 Nephi 9:28-29)

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Douglas D. Alder earned bachelor’s and master’s degrees in history, political science, and German from the University of Utah, 1957-59. He was awarded a doctorate in modern European history at the University of Oregon (1966), following a Fulbright grant that allowed him to pursue research at the University of Vienna for his dissertation on the First Austrian Republic (1919-1932). He was appointed Assistant Professor of History at Utah State University in 1963, where he taught German history and modern European history and, in 1974, was appointed director of the Honors Program. He published articles on Austrian history and on social science education, and edited Cache Valley: Essays on Her Past and People (1976).

In 1986, he was appointed President of Dixie College, in St. George, Utah. He returned to teaching history in 1993, this time at Dixie College, and continued until 1998, when he was called to be a counselor in the presidency of the St. George Temple for three years. Afterwards, he resumed his teaching, now as an adjunct history professor at Dixie College. In 1996, he and Karl Brooks wrote A History of Washington County: From Isolation to Destination (which was reissued in a second edition in 2007). In 2010, he published A Century of Dixie State College of Utah, for the college’s centennial. Professor Alder has also published numerous Mormon-related articles, reviews, and essays, as well as fiction including the novel Sons of Bear Lake (2002). He and Richard Schmutz have completed a manuscript about the history of the St. George Temple.

Dr. Alder has been active in the Mormon History Association (serving as president, 1977-1978), the Utah Historical Society, the Utah Humanities Council, the Utah Arts Council, the Grafton Restoration Association, Historic St. George LIVE, and the Washington County Historical Association.

Posted November 2010

Je viens d’une famille juive non pratiquante. Mes parents et quasiment toute ma famille indirecte ont été déportés et assassinés au camp de concentration d’Auschwitz. Ayant été recueilli par une famille belge non juive juste avant les grandes rafles de 1942 à Anvers (Belgique) par les Allemands, j’ai échappé à leur sort. J’avais alors six ans et la perte de mes parents — j’ai pris conscience très tôt du caractère définitif de leur disparition — m’a profondément affecté. Quand je me revois, enfant, je suis étonné de constater à quel point le déracinement (adaptation à une autre famille, à un autre milieu, apprentissage d’une autre langue) peut mûrir même un enfant de six ans. Avec le temps, je me suis mis à rechercher un sens à la vie. En avait-elle un ? À quoi rimait-elle ? Était-elle, comme Shakespeare l’exprime amèrement dans Macbeth, « une ombre qui marche ; un pauvre comédien qui s’agite et se pavane une heure sur scène et puis qu’on n’entend plus… une histoire, racontée par un idiot, pleine de bruit et de fureur, et qui ne signifie rien » ou y avait-il un Dieu, comme celui dont on me parlait au cours de religion catholique à l’école primaire, et si oui, que nous voulait-il ?

Dans mon adolescence, je me suis mis à étudier la religion de mes ancêtres grâce à une tante qui vivait en Israël et qui m’a envoyé des livres et m’a mis en contact avec un rabbin. Mais le judaïsme n’avait pas de réponse à me donner. Pendant cette même période, je suivais les cours de religion catholique à l’école et j’étais fasciné par Jésus-Christ, mais le reste de l’enseignement ne répondait à aucune de mes questions, au contraire. Une année, l’ecclésiastique qui nous donnait le cours de religion avait trouvé le moyen d’éliminer les problèmes de discipline qui sont la plaie de ce genre de cours en nous obligeant à écrire sous sa dictée pendant les cinquante minutes de chaque période de cours. Le sujet était la conception chrétienne traditionnelle de Dieu : sa nature, la Trinité et la question de l’existence du mal. La conception de ce Dieu, un tout immatériel sans parties, qui pouvait être entièrement dans chaque particule de matière tout en n’étant qu’un, qui était un mais aussi trois, dont un élément (qui n’était pas un élément puisque Dieu est un tout sans parties) était sorti de Dieu pour venir sur la terre nous sauver (pour satisfaire quelle justice ?) et ensuite rentrer en lui, qui avait tout créé de rien, qui, situé hors du temps, avait à un moment donné (d’un temps qui n’existait pas ?) créé (dans quel but ?) un univers imparfait (pourquoi imparfait ?) et autorisé/voulu/été incapable d’empêcher le mal, cette conception qui défie toute logique et qui, de surcroît, était en contradiction avec la Bible et n’était pas le produit de la Révélation mais des cogitations des théologiens du IVe siècle, n’était pour moi qu’un tissu d’invraisemblances. Comment pouvais-je aimer de tout mon cœur, de toute mon âme et de toute ma pensée, comme le commande Jésus, et considérer comme « mon Père céleste » ce Néant tout-puissant qui est le Totalement Autre ? Comment pouvais-je accepter que cet Être, qui m’avait créé de rien et à qui je devais donc d’être comme j’étais, puisse me rendre responsable des imperfections que lui-même avait mises en moi ? Et surtout, cela ne répondait pas à ma question fondamentale : La vie a-t-elle un sens ?

En fait, j’avais déjà reçu ma réponse. Dès l’âge de douze ans, j’avais décidé de devenir professeur d’anglais. Mon père adoptif, rencontrant un jour les missionnaires de l’Église de Jésus-Christ des Saints des Derniers Jours, qui avaient installé un stand en ville, et ayant remarqué qu’ils étaient de langue anglaise, les invita à la maison. Leur message ne l’intéressait absolument pas, mais il se disait qu’ils pourraient parler anglais avec moi et m’aider à apprendre la langue. J’étais alors dans ma quinzième année et en pleine recherche spirituelle. Je les interrogeai sur leur religion et je découvris que Joseph Smith avait vu Dieu le Père et son Fils, Jésus-Christ, et que la description qu’il faisait d’eux était celle d’un témoin oculaire et non celle d’un théoricien de la religion. Ses révélations m’apprenaient que les hommes, dans leur état fondamental, et la matière, dans son état non organisé, existaient par eux-mêmes et n’avaient pas besoin d’être tirés du néant. Dieu avait pris en charge les intelligences primitives que nous étions, nous avait dotés d’un corps d’esprit, faisant ainsi de nous littéralement ses enfants, et avait conçu un Plan de Salut grâce auquel nous allions pouvoir connaître une évolution qui nous mènerait en bout de course à l’état de perfection divine et de bonheur divin atteint par Dieu-lui-même. Tous les problèmes rencontrés par la théologie chrétienne traditionnelle étaient résolus : Dieu était notre guide, pas notre cause et l’organisateur de l’univers pas un magicien tirant tout de rien. Il n’était pas le Totalement Autre, mais notre Père aimant s’efforçant de nous conduire à l’épanouissement et au bonheur de la perfection. Quant au mal, il était inhérent à notre nature comme le verso d’une feuille est indissociable de son recto et devait être neutralisé pour que nous puissions accéder au bonheur parfait. L’accession à cet idéal était subordonnée à l’alliance avec Jésus-Christ par le baptême et au respect de ses commandements, qui étaient ceux dont l’observation était indispensable pour nous amener à notre épanouissement et à notre bonheur parfaits. Et dans ce processus, les morts qui n’avaient pas eu l’occasion de connaître l’Évangile et de se prononcer à son sujet n’étaient pas oubliés, l’Évangile leur étant annoncé dans le monde d’esprit postmortel et les alliances nécessaires étant faites pour eux dans les temples. Non seulement j’avais mes réponses, mais je savais que je reverrais mes parents et qu’ils seraient toujours mes parents.

Mais tout cela pouvait n’être qu’une belle théorie, ingénieusement conçue par un esprit particulièrement habile. Était-ce uniquement une affaire de logique ou de conviction ? N’y avait-il pas quelque part un ancrage dans la vie réelle ? Je n’allais pas tarder à en trouver un dans le Livre de Mormon. Pendant que j’étudiais avec les missionnaires, l’un d’eux me donna un jour un exemplaire du livre du professeur Hugh Nibley de BYU, Léhi dans le Désert et Le monde des Jarédites. Ce livre ancra mon témoignage tout neuf. Il montrait que le Livre de Mormon était tout à fait à l’aise dans le contexte historique dont il se réclamait, excluant toute possibilité qu’il ait été imaginé que ce soit par Joseph Smith ou par l’un quelconque de ses contemporains. De plus il m’apprit quelque chose qui allait jouer un grand rôle dans mon étude future des écrits sacrés : le fait que chaque mot, chaque bout de phrase, chaque structure un peu surprenante dans les Écritures peut cacher un détail historique ou doctrinal important et que les Écritures doivent donc être étudiées minutieusement. Le Livre de Mormon était manifestement un document historique authentique et les personnes, les lieux et les faits qu’il mentionne étaient réels. Je ne le savais pas encore, mais cette découverte n’était que le début d’une longue histoire d’amour entre le Livre de Mormon et moi .

Je me suis fait baptiser à ma majorité et j’ai fait une mission en France. À l’époque (1960-1962), tout ce qui était manuel et livre de leçons était traduit et imprimé au bureau de la mission à Paris. Je faisais déjà des traductions pour l’Église depuis environ deux ans et au bout de quelques semaines en mission, le président de mission m’invita au bureau de la mission pour faire de la traduction. Ce travail m’amena à comparer les citations du Livre de Mormon anglais avec leur traduction française de l’époque. Je ne tardai pas à constater qu’il y avait des contresens et d’autres inexactitudes dans la version française, qui était la traduction originelle faite en 1851 sous la direction de Curtis E. Bolton. J’en fis un relevé et allai trouver le président de mission pour le lui présenter. Rapport fut fait à la Première Présidence, à la suite de quoi je fus invité à faire une révision du texte français du Livre de Mormon (et, dans la foulée, une retraduction des Doctrine et Alliances et de la Perle de Grand Prix), révision toutefois strictement limitée aux erreurs les plus flagrantes. Mon travail déboucha sur l’édition française des Écritures de 1962.

Ce travail me laissa insatisfait. Il y avait, dans la traduction française originelle, trop de libertés que je n’avais pas pu corriger. Curieusement, toutefois, j’avais la certitude qu’une révision complète de cette traduction aurait lieu un jour et que ce serait moi qui la ferais. Je n’avais absolument aucun doute là-dessus. Il fallait donc que je me prépare en étudiant l’ouvrage de manière approfondie. D’autres livres de Hugh Nibley tels que An Approach to the Book of Mormon et Since Cumorah continuèrent à renforcer ma conviction de l’authenticité historique du Livre de Mormon et de la nécessité pour le traducteur de « coller » au maximum au texte anglais parce que celui-ci trahissait délibérément des formes et des structures de la langue d’origine.

Le moment tant attendu se présenta vingt-trois ans après la publication de l’édition de 1962. Après un immense travail préparatoire effectué par l’université Brigham Young pour fournir aux traducteurs un Guide de traduction et un Lexique donnant la signification de chaque mot dans chacune de ses occurrences et l’heureuse coïncidence ( ?) de la réédition de l’American Dictionary of the English Language, l’édition originale du Webster de 1828, permettant de vérifier la signification qu’avaient les mots anglais à l’époque de Joseph Smith, l’Église lança, en 1985, un vaste programme de traduction du Livre de Mormon, des Doctrine et Alliances et de la Perle de Grand Prix dans de nombreuses langues et, par la même occasion, une révision des traductions existantes. Je fus désigné pour être le traducteur principal pour le français, flanqué d’une nuée de réviseurs chargés de vérifier l’exactitude de mon travail. C’est à ce moment-là que je fus chargé de traduire, pour le magazine de l’Église en français, un article de l’ethnologue John Sorenson intitulé « Digging into the Book of Mormon ». Très intéressé par son contenu, je consultai les notes de fin d’article et découvris les coordonnées d’une fondation appelée F.A.R.M.S., constituée de chercheurs et de professeurs d’université membres de l’Église. Je me procurai son catalogue et achetai tous les fascicules qui étaient déjà publiés. Sorenson venait aussi de publier son ouvrage fondateur An Ancient American Setting for the Book of Mormon dont la lecture me renforça encore dans la certitude que le Livre de Mormon traitait de personnes réelles dans un cadre géographique et culturel réel et dans la conviction que le texte anglais recelait des trésors d’authenticité historique qui exigeaient que ma traduction soit aussi proche de l’original anglais que possible. Les articles du professeur John Welch sur le chiasme dans le Livre de Mormon et sur la différence entre les termes « theft » et « robbery », les articles de John Tvedtnes et d’autres sur les hébraïsmes, le traité de Donald W. Parry sur les parallélismes du livre et d’autres encore donnèrent un éclairage tout neuf à certains passages du livre et montrèrent que les traducteurs, moi y compris, ne savaient parfois pas ce qu’ils traduisaient.

La mission du traducteur était définie par une circulaire de la Première Présidence qui exigeait que la traduction soit aussi proche que possible de l’original anglais, directive avec laquelle j’étais d’autant plus d’accord que je ne voulais pas que ma traduction soit un obstacle à la communication de découvertes futures aux lecteurs de langue française. Le traducteur qui essaie de rendre le Livre de Mormon dans sa langue tout en restituant autant que possible toutes les nuances et toutes les subtilités de l’anglais et, dans le cas du Livre de Mormon, d’un anglais assez particulier, fruit d’une traduction serrée de laquelle ressortent toutes sortes de sémitismes, ce traducteur-là découvre le livre comme peu d’autres personnes peuvent le faire. Sa cohésion interne, la rigueur de sa terminologie et de ses structures sautent aux yeux. Il apparaît clairement que celui qui a rédigé le texte n’est pas quelqu’un qui l’aurait inventé chemin faisant, mais quelqu’un qui écrivait avec soin dans une grande unité de vocabulaire et de formulation, une caractéristique qui fait de la traduction une opération encore plus ingrate que dans le cas d’un texte ordinaire. Arrivé à la fin de 1 Néphi, après un travail minutieux aidé de la prière, et après avoir revu le texte cinq fois, j’étais fier de moi, convaincu que ma traduction était ce que l’on pouvait humainement faire de mieux. Arrivé à Mosiah, je n’étais plus sûr de rien et j’étais prêt à jeter tout mon travail au feu. Je suis convaincu que si le livre avait été celui d’un imposteur, je n’aurais pas eu ce problème-là. Le travail de retraduction du Livre de Mormon et des autres Écritures modernes en français, qui dura de la fin 1985 à la mi-1998 (avec l’intervention de comités de révision successifs créés par les Autorités générales soucieuses d’avoir la certitude que le travail était fait correctement), fut aussi une période de découvertes en chaîne concernant le Livre de Mormon par les chercheurs de F.A.R.M.S. dont certaines eurent un impact sur la traduction. Je sortis de cette expérience plus convaincu que jamais que le Livre de Mormon était un document historique authentique et que le seul moyen d’expliquer son existence était d’admettre l’authenticité de l’histoire de Joseph Smith.

Que l’on me comprenne bien. Je n’ai pas dit que l’on a « prouvé » l’authenticité du livre au sens scientifique du terme. Ceux qui ont accumulé les confirmations historiques et littéraires du Livre de Mormon se défendent de l’avoir fait. En quoi ils ont raison puisque la notion de preuve est éminemment personnelle. Ce qui entraîne la conviction de l’un, n’entraîne pas celle de l’autre. Une chose est néanmoins claire : Il n’est dorénavant plus possible — du moins si l’on se considère comme intellectuellement honnête — de juger le Livre de Mormon d’une manière équitable si l’on ne tient pas compte des évidences que la recherche a mises au jour.

Mais mon témoignage est ancré dans autre chose encore, quelque chose de bien plus essentiel. Il n’est pas une simple question de raisonnement sur la religion ni une affaire de découvertes rendues possibles par la recherche scientifique, encore que ces deux types de considérations jouent un rôle de consolidation important. Il repose sur la certitude de l’existence objective de Dieu basée sur une notion introduite par Joseph Smith à la suite de son vécu à lui : celui de la révélation personnelle. Joseph Smith a eu la réponse à ses questions en prenant au mot l’invitation de Jacques 1:5 dans le Nouveau Testament (« Si quelqu’un d’entre vous manque de sagesse, qu’il la demande à Dieu, qui donne à tous simplement et sans reproche, et elle lui sera donnée ») et en faisant l’expérience d’aller dans un endroit solitaire et d’y prier Dieu. Sa prière a débouché sur la Première Vision. Fort de cela, il a enseigné à ceux qui l’ont suivi qu’ils n’étaient pas obligés de croire aveuglément ce qu’il leur disait. Ils pouvaient savoir si c’était vrai en demandant à Dieu et en recevant eux-mêmes la réponse. C’est le principe de la révélation personnelle. C’est l’invitation que lance le Livre de Mormon lui-même : « Et lorsque vous recevrez ces choses, je vous exhorte à demander à Dieu, le Père éternel, au nom du Christ, si ces choses ne sont pas vraies; et si vous demandez d’un cœur sincère, avec une intention réelle, ayant foi au Christ, il vous en manifestera la vérité par le pouvoir du Saint-Esprit. Et par le pouvoir du Saint-Esprit, vous pouvez connaître la vérité de toutes choses » (Moroni 10:4-5).

J’ai fait cette expérience et j’ai reçu ma réponse. Mais ce n’est pas tout. Comme tout nouveau baptisé, j’ai reçu le don du Saint-Esprit, le droit à sa compagnie et à la révélation personnelle par son entremise lorsqu’il s’avère que celle-ci est nécessaire. Cette manifestation du « murmure doux et léger », comme l’appelle 1 Rois 19:12, je l’ai vécue bien des fois au fil des années et je peux témoigner qu’elle existe bel et bien. Ceux qui ne croient pas pourront avoir recours à leur arsenal habituel d’explications, psychologiques ou autres, mais s’ils n’ont pas appliqué le principe dans leur vie et n’ont pas fait cette expérience, il leur manque un élément d’appréciation fondamental. La révélation personnelle ne fait pas de moi un illuminé. C’est quelque chose de trop subtil pour cela. Bien souvent, c’est après coup que je m’aperçois de ce petit coup de pouce que j’ai reçu du Saint-Esprit. Mais chaque fois qu’il se manifeste, il me conforte dans ce que je sais déjà : que Dieu existe, qu’il est notre Créateur et notre Père et qu’il se soucie de chacun de nous.

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Marcel Kahne est diplômé de l’Université libre de Bruxelles en philologie germanique et a fait une carrière comme professeur d’anglais, de néerlandais et d’allemand dans l’enseignement secondaire supérieur. Il est aujourd’hui à la retraite. Il est aussi, depuis plus de cinquante ans, traducteur à temps partiel pour l’Église Il a fait une mission à plein temps en France de 1960 à 1962 et a rempli divers postes dans l’Église dont ceux de président de branche et de district, de membre du grand conseil et de conseiller dans trois présidences de pieu. Il est actuellement membre de l’épiscopat de sa paroisse. Sa première épouse (maintenant décédée) et lui ont quatre enfants et huit petits-enfants.

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I come from a non-practising Jewish family. My parents and almost all my extended family were deported and murdered at the Auschwitz (Poland) concentration camp. Having been taken in by a non-Jewish Belgian family right before the great 1942 roundups by the Germans in Antwerp, Belgium, I escaped their fate. I was six at the time, and the loss of my parents—I became aware very early of the final nature of their disappearance—affected me deeply. Looking back on my childhood, I am impressed by how deeply being uprooted (having to adjust to another family, another environment, learning another language—I spoke Flemish and had to learn French) can mature even a six-year-old child. In time, I started searching for a meaning to life. Did it have any? Did it make any sense at all? Was it, as Shakespeare bitterly puts it in Macbeth, “a walking shadow, a poor player that struts and frets his hour upon the stage and then is heard no more . . . a tale told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, signifying nothing,” or was there a God, like the one I was being told about in the Catholic religion class in elementary school? And if so, what did He want from us?

In my teenage years, I started studying the religion of my ancestors, thanks to an aunt who lived in Israel and who sent me books and put me in touch with a rabbi. But Judaism had no answer for me. During this same period, I took Catholic religion classes at school and became fascinated with Jesus Christ, but the remainder of the teaching did not answer any of my questions. Far from it. One year, the Catholic priest who taught us religion found a way to eliminate the problems of unruly classes, which usually plague teachers of religion, by compelling us to write under his dictation during the fifty minutes of each class period. The subject was the traditional Christian concept of God: His nature, the Trinity and the matter of the existence of evil. Such a concept of God, seen as an immaterial whole without any parts; who could be entirely in each particle of matter while at the same time being only one; who was one but also three; an element of whom (which was not an element since God is a whole without parts) had left God to come to earth and save us (to satisfy whose justice?) and then return into him; who had created everything out of nothing; who, while located out of time, had at a given time (of a time that did not exist?) created (for what purpose?) an imperfect universe (why imperfect?) and allowed/wanted/been unable to prevent evil—such a concept that defies all logic and which, in addition, was in contradiction with the Bible and was not the product of revelation but of the wild imaginings of fourth-century theologians, was nothing more than balderdash to me. How could I love this almighty Nothing, who is the Totally Other, with all my heart, might, mind, and strength, as Jesus commands, and consider Him to be “my Father which is in Heaven”? How could I accept that this Being, who had created me out of nothing and to whom I therefore owed that I was as I was, could make me responsible for imperfections He Himself had placed in me? And especially, that did not answer my basic question: Does life have meaning?

Actually, I had already received my answer. By the age of twelve, I had made up my mind I would become an English teacher. One day my foster father met a couple of missionaries of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints who were holding a street meeting in the city where we lived, and, having noticed that they were English speakers, invited them to his house. He wasn’t interested in their message at all, but he thought that they could talk English with me and thus help me learn the language. I was then in my fifteenth year and right in the middle of my spiritual quest. I asked them about their religion and discovered that Joseph Smith had seen God the Father and His Son, Jesus Christ, and that his description of Them was that of an eyewitness and not that of a religious theoretician. His revelations taught me that men, in their primeval state, and matter, in its unorganized state, existed by themselves and did not need to be created ex nihilo. God had taken charge of us as primal intelligences, had endowed us with a spirit body, thus making us His literal children, and had conceived a Plan of Salvation through which we would be able to go through an evolution that would eventually bring us to that condition of divine perfection and happiness reached by God Himself. All the problems encountered by traditional Christian theology were solved: God was our guide, not our cause, and the organizer of the universe, not a magician extracting everything from nothingness. He was not the Totally Other, but our loving Father endeavoring to lead us to the fulfillment and happiness of perfection. As far as evil was concerned, it was inherent in our nature just as the back of a sheet is inseparable from its front and was to be neutralized so that we could reach perfect happiness. Access to this ideal was subordinated to a covenant with Jesus Christ through baptism and keeping His commandments, which were those whose observation was essential to bringing us to our perfect fulfillment and happiness. And in this process, those dead who had not had any opportunity to come to know the Gospel and decide for or against it were not forgotten, the Gospel being declared to them in the postmortal spirit world and the necessary covenants being made for them in the temples. I not only had my answers, but I knew I would see my parents again and they would still be my parents.

But all of this might just be a beautiful theory, cleverly conceived by a particularly skillful mind. Was it just a matter of logic or conviction? Wasn’t there some anchoring in real life somewhere? It wouldn’t be long until I found one in the Book of Mormon. While I was studying with the missionaries, one of them gave me a copy of a book by BYU professor Hugh Nibley, Lehi in the Desert and The World of the Jaredites. This book clinched my brand new testimony. It showed that the Book of Mormon was entirely at home in the historical framework it claimed for itself, excluding any possibility that it was contrived either by Joseph Smith or any of his contemporaries. Moreover, it taught me something that was going to play a significant role in my coming study of the sacred writings: the fact that each word, phrase, or intriguing pattern in the scriptures can conceal an important historical or doctrinal feature and that the scriptures therefore need to be studied minutely. The Book of Mormon was obviously an authentic historical record and the people, places, and facts it records were real. I did not know it yet, but this discovery was just the beginning of a long love story between me and the Book of Mormon.

I was baptized when I came of age at twenty-one and served a mission in France. At the time (1960-62), everything by way of handbooks and lesson manuals was translated and printed at the mission office in Paris. I had already completed translations for the church for about two years and, after I had been on my mission for a couple of weeks, the mission president called me to the mission office to translate. This work gave me an opportunity to compare quotations from the English Book of Mormon with their French translation of the time. It did not take long for me to notice that there were mistranslations and other inaccuracies in the French version, which was the original translation made in 1851 under the direction of Curtis E. Bolton. I prepared a report and discussed it with the mission president. It was submitted to the First Presidency, whereupon I was invited to revise the French text of the Book of Mormon (and, while I was at it, to retranslate the Doctrine and Covenants and the Pearl of Great Price). The revision, however, was to be strictly limited to the most obvious errors. My work led to the 1962 French edition of the scriptures.

This work left me dissatisfied. There were too many inaccuracies in the original French translation which I had not been allowed to correct. Curiously, however, I felt sure a full revision of this translation would take place one day and I would be the one to do it. There was not any doubt in my mind about this. I therefore needed to prepare by studying the book thoroughly. Other works of Hugh Nibley such as An Approach to the Book of Mormon and Since Cumorah kept strengthening my conviction of the historical authenticity of the Book of Mormon and the need for the translator to follow the English text as closely as possible because it deliberately betrayed forms and structures of the source language.

The long awaited time occurred twenty-three years after the publication of the 1962 edition. After an extensive preliminary work carried out by Brigham Young University to provide translators with a Translation Guide and a Lexicon giving the meaning of each word in each of its occurrences and, as luck (?) would have it, a republication of the American Dictionary of the English Language, the original 1828 edition of the Webster Dictionary, making it possible to check the meaning of English words at the time of Joseph Smith, the Church launched in 1985 a vast translation program of the Book of Mormon, Doctrine and Covenants, and Pearl of Great Price in many languages and, at the same time, a revision of the existing translations. I was appointed to be the main translator for the French language, assisted by a swarm of reviewers whose duty was to check the accuracy of my work. At that very time I was requested to translate an article by ethnologist John Sorenson entitled “Digging into the Book of Mormon.” Being very interested by its contents, I looked up the footnotes and discovered the address of a foundation called FARMS, made up of LDS researchers and university professors. I procured their catalog and bought all the booklets that had already been published. Sorenson had also just published his seminal work An Ancient American Setting for the Book of Mormon, the reading of which strengthened my conviction even more that the Book of Mormon was dealing with real people within an actual geographical and cultural framework and that the English text concealed treasures of historical authenticity which required my translation to be as close to the English original as possible. Professor John Welch’s articles on chiasmus in the Book of Mormon and on the difference between the terms theft and robbery, articles by John Tvedtnes and others on Hebraisms, Donald W. Parry’s treatise on parallelisms in the book, and still others shed a new light on some features of the book and showed that translators, including myself, sometimes did not know what they were translating.

The translator’s mission was defined by a First Presidency statement requiring that the translation should be as close as possible to the English original, an injunction I all the more agreed with since I did not want my translation to be an obstacle to a communication of future discoveries to French-speaking readers. A translator who tries to render the Book of Mormon in his own language while rendering at the same time as much as possible all the nuances and subtleties of the English and, in the case of the Book of Mormon, a rather peculiar English, a product of a tight translation showing all kinds of semitisms—such a translator discovers the book as few other people will. Its internal consistency, and the rigor of its terminology and patterns, are obvious. It appears clearly that whoever wrote the text was not somebody who would have made it up as he went, but somebody who wrote carefully with a great consistency in the choice of words and formulation, a characteristic which makes translation even more arduous than in the case of an ordinary text. When I reached the end of 1 Nephi, after a meticulous, prayerful work and after reviewing the text five times, I was proud of myself, convinced that my translation was the very best that could humanly be done. By the time I had reached Mosiah, I was not sure of anything any more and I was ready to delete all I had done. I am convinced that, if the book had been that of an impostor, I would not have had such a problem. The work of retranslating the Book of Mormon and the other Latter-day scriptures into French, which lasted from late 1985 to mid-1998 (with the input of successive revision committees created by the General Authorities who wanted to make sure the job had been done appropriately), was also a period during which a string of discoveries was made concerning the Book of Mormon by FARMS researchers, some of which had an impact on the translation. I went away from the experience being more convinced than ever that the Book of Mormon was an authentic historical document and that the only way its existence could be explained was to admit the authenticity of the Joseph Smith story.

Let there be no misunderstanding me. I did not say the authenticity of the book in the scientific sense of the term has been “proved”. Those who have piled up the historical and literary confirmations of the Book of Mormon have denied doing so. In this they are right, since the concept of proof is eminently personal. That which convinces the one does not convince the other. One thing is nevertheless clear: Henceforth it is not possible any more—at least if one considers oneself intellectually honest—to judge the Book of Mormon fairly without taking into account those evidences research has brought forth.

But my testimony is anchored in yet something else that is far more fundamental. It is not a mere matter of reasoning about religion nor a matter of discoveries made possible by scientific inquiry, although these two types of considerations play a significant role in reinforcing one’s testimony. My testimony rests with the certainty of the objective existence of God based on a concept introduced by Joseph Smith as a result of his own personal experience: that of personal revelation. Joseph Smith had his questions answered as he did what James 1:5 in the New Testament suggested (“If any of you lack wisdom, let him ask of God, that giveth to all men liberally, and upbraideth not; and it shall be given him”) and made the experiment of going to a secluded place and praying to God there. His prayer led to the First Vision. On the strength of that he taught his followers that they were not required to believe blindly what he was telling them. They could know for themselves whether it was true by asking God and receiving an answer for themselves. This is the principle of personal revelation. It is the challenge issued by the Book of Mormon itself: “And when ye shall receive these things, I would exhort you that ye would ask God, the Eternal Father, in the name of Christ, if these things are not true; and if ye shall ask with a sincere heart, with real intent, having faith in Christ, he will manifest the truth of it unto you, by the power of the Holy Ghost. And by the power of the Holy Ghost ye may know the truth of all things.” (Moroni 10:4-5).

I made this experiment and I received my answer. But that is not all. Like every newly baptized individual, I received the gift of the Holy Spirit, the right to His company and, through Him, personal revelation when needed. This manifestation of the “still small voice,” as it is called in 1 Kings 19:12, I have experienced many times over the years and I can testify that it actually exists. Those who do not believe may fall back on their usual arsenal of explanations, psychological or otherwise, but if they do not apply the principle in their lives and do not make this experiment, they miss a basic element of evaluation. Personal revelation does not make me a crank. It is something too subtle for that. Very often, it is only in hindsight that I become aware of this small nudge in the right direction received from the Holy Ghost. But whenever it occurs, it reinforces what I know already: that God exists, that he is our Creator and our Father and that he is concerned with each one of us.

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Marcel Kahne has an MA in Germanic languages from the Université libre de Bruxelles and is a retired teacher of English, Dutch, and German. He has also been a part-time translator for the Church for over fifty years. He served a full-time mission in the French Mission from 1960 to 1962 and has served in many positions in the church, among others as a branch and district president, a high councillor, and a counselor in three stake presidencies. He is currently a member of his ward bishopric. He and his first wife (now deceased) have four children and eight grandchildren.

Posted November 2010

As a poet, I write my way into what I don’t yet know, seeking to render or articulate thoughts, feelings, and nuances of perception in ways that have never before been rendered or articulated in exactly the way I’m doing. It’s like seeking revelation, and every poem is a reaching, a prayer, a quest for new light and knowledge. For me, writing poetry is an extension of my Mormon self and perspective. At their best, and for me when I’m at my best, Mormonism and poetry are both about seeking new truth and reaching forth to understand and experience the glory of creation, the whole of it. Since the advent of Modernism, this is a conception of poetry that isn’t entirely unexpected. And, while it’s a way of looking at Mormonism that may seem strange to many people both of and outside of the faith, I think it partakes of and is consistent with the spirit of Joseph Smith and the early Mormon church.

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Poet and translator Steven J. Stewart is a faculty member in the English Department at Brigham Young University–Idaho. He has a Ph.D. in Creative Writing from Florida State University. He was awarded a 2005 Literature Fellowship for Translation by the National Endowment for the Arts and a 2007 Idaho Humanities Council Research Fellowship. His book of translations of Spanish poet Rafael Pérez Estrada, Devoured by the Moon, which was published by Hanging Loose Press in 2004, was a finalist for the 2005 PEN-USA translation award. He has published translations of various significant Spanish and Latin American writers including Carlos Edmundo de Ory, Ángel Crespo, Rafael Ballesteros, and Ana María Shua. His book of the selected microfictions of Shua was published by the University of Nebraska Press in 2009.

Posted November 2010

When I think about the teachings of the restored church of Jesus Christ I am filled with awe at their simplicity and simultaneous multifaceted depth. The gospel plan seems so straightforward: God loves His children and has prepared a way for them to find peace through repentance, baptism, and the Gift of the Holy Ghost to guide them through life. And yet when I seriously study that doctrine I am fascinated with its expanding ramifications, continuity, symbolism, typology, and harmony with the natural world. A good example of the latter occurred when I began researching for my dissertation. I contrasted the pneumatology of nineteenth century Americans and was overwhelmed by how much richer Joseph Smith’s understanding of the Holy Spirit was, compared to his peers. He did not claim authorship of the intricate ideas, though, but attributed divine revelation as the source of his doctrine. Again I observed the balance between the simplicity of personal inspiration and the new far-reaching insights it brought.

As an undergraduate I was fascinated by the Book of Mormon’s ties to Hebraic linguistics—syntax, chiasmus, numerology, and history. The more I studied, the more connections I was able to make between the Book of Mormon and biblical history and thought. It was stimulating and interesting, and yet that is not why I am a believer. I believe that the Book of Mormon is a second witness of Jesus Christ because, after studying it, I prayed to know if it were the word of God. God answered my prayers with a feeling of sweet peace and His love. My mind was enlightened and I knew it was true from a feeling deep within me that resonated of rightness. This witness from the Holy Spirit has been repeated over and over as I further experiment on the Word of God.

These feelings motivate me to try every day to live the life of a disciple of Christ. I often fall short, and that is why I desperately need a Savior. I am filled with gratitude for Jesus Christ whom I accept as my Redeemer and the Son of God. I have felt the cleansing power of His Spirit and the blessings of repentance with its corollary, the love of God. I believe with Isaiah, “He was wounded for our transgressions, he was bruised for our iniquities: the chastisement of our peace was upon him; and with his stripes we are healed” (53:5). I also believe that he was the promised Messiah and fulfilled the Mosaic Law. He came at the meridian of time and will come again to rule and reign during the thousand years of peace known as the millennium.

I believe the Savior’s ministry continues in the twenty-first century under the direction of living prophets and apostolic priesthood. These are not infallible people, but they are working under the direction of an omniscient and omnipresent devoted God. I believe God carries out His work through these servants and when they speak through the gift of revelation their words are the words that God wants communicated. This is an awesome thing, and yet I too have felt inspired by the Spirit of God so I can extend my faith to believe that repentant Peter served as the Lord’s mouthpiece and so can other anointed fishers of men.

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Lynne Hilton Wilson lives in Palo Alto, California, with her husband, Bishop Dow R. Wilson. She is mother to seven children—all with red hair. She graduated from BYU in 1982 with a degree in University Studies and Nursing. An accomplished cellist, Lynne played with the BYU Philharmonic and Chamber Orchestra at BYU. In 2003, she received her MA in Religious Studies from Cardinal Stritch University in Wisconsin. Her thesis explored Christ’s birth narratives in the New Testament. She received her PhD in Theology and American History at Marquette University, a Jesuit institution in Milwaukee, in 2010. Her dissertation focused on Joseph Smith’s understanding of the Holy Ghost compared to other nineteenth-century theologians. Lynne has been a volunteer in the Church Education System for the past fifteen years in France, Belgium, and Wisconsin, and, most recently, at Stanford University. She is a popular BYU Education Week presenter and has also presented and published papers at the Society of Biblical Literature, the Sperry Symposium, the BYU Studies 50th Anniversary Symposium, the BYU Religious Studies Center Easter Conference, and Stanford Friday Forums. Her first two books have been submitted for publication: Cultural Background and Baggage: Christ’s Empowerment of New Testament Women; and Spiritual Empowerment: Joseph Smith’s Understanding of the Spirit Contrasted with Preachers from the Second Great Awakening.

Posted November 2010

I am a convert to The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. I had only to hear the messages of the restored gospel to know they are true. I required no missionary discussions, no gradual enlightenment or period of personal turmoil, so my story may be somewhat unusual, though I believe it not to be unique.

When I first heard the story of the restoration as a university student, I was already deeply in love with my soon-to-be eternal companion. (Incidentally, my love for my dear wife has grown even deeper with the passing years.) Two aspects of the gospel particularly appealed to me: the glory of God is intelligence, and marriage is intended by God to be an eternal covenant between a man and a woman. These remain of unusual importance to me.

My faith is simple and unsophisticated. With Nephi, “I do not know the meaning of all things,” but this I do know of a certainty: God “loveth His children” (see Nephi 11:17). The beauty, complexity, and simplicity of molecular biology, which others have termed “the language of God,” only confirm what I long have known in my heart to be true. I remain deeply impressed by Paul’s prescient words on Mars’ hill: God “hath made of one blood all nations of men for to dwell on all the face of the earth” (Acts 17:26).

There it is in a nutshell. The meaning of true religion, to me at least, is just that simple. We are all God’s children. There are no barriers of race, ethnicity, skin color, education, or anything else which can separate us from Him. All we are required to do is to bring to Him our repentant, contrite, and broken hearts. Nothing else is needed. All of His children may qualify for His supernal blessings. I glory in that simple truth.

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Alexander B. Morrison (Ph.D., Cornell University), is a native of Canada. Trained in nutrition and pharmacology (in which he earned a second master’s degree some nine years after the completion of his doctorate), Dr. Morrison was a professor and administrator at the University of Guelph, in Ontario. He also chaired the Scientific and Technical Advisory Committee of the Special Program for Research and Training in Tropical Diseases in the World Health Organization and served as a deputy minister with Health Canada, in which capacity he oversaw issues of environmental and food safety.

Baptized into the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints as an adult, he served as a branch president, a bishop, a regional representative of the Twelve, and, from 1987 until he was given emeritus General Authority status in 2000, as a member of the First and Second Quorums of the Seventy.

Posted November 2010

I was accosted frequently during my schooling about the apparent dichotomy between faith and science. I was told and “shown” that, to have faith, one was discounting science, while to believe in the cold analytical reasoning of the scientific method was to turn one’s back on faith. I have found that neither of those assumptions is true. Science and faith are not mutually exclusive! In fact, my faith greatly enhances my understanding of science!

My faith in God and in his divine Son Jesus Christ drives me to discover further the workings of their hands. I resonate somewhat with Einstein when he stated: “Every one who is seriously involved in the pursuit of science becomes convinced that a spirit is manifest in the laws of nature—a spirit vastly superior to that of man, and one in the face of which we with our modest powers must feel humble. In this way the pursuit of science leads to a religious feeling of a special sort.”

The hand of our Creator, our Eternal Father, is everywhere evident in the construction and design of this world, this solar system, this galaxy, and even the whole universe. The unique properties of frozen water, the power harnessed in the strong nuclear force, and even the patterns of night and day, and their influence in concentrations of various gaseous molecules in the atmosphere, all attest a Divine Architect who has orchestrated a beautiful mortal experience for His beloved children. In learning and researching these things, particularly in the field of nuclear science, I am again and again reminded of the power, wisdom, and love of God. I know that He is our Eternal Father, and that his love for us transcends all else.

In spite of all these evidences that enhance faith, there are yet things that we do not understand. There have often been perceived “gaps” between man’s collective scientific knowledge and the principles taught by God’s prophets. However, I have come to know that these apparent conflicts are often due to man’s lack of understanding. Time and again, science has caught up to what God has revealed, but until that time, there will always be those who confuse lack of evidence with unexplained contradictions.

It is with this perspective—that is, through the lens of faith—that I testify that God is a living, perfect being. He is perfect, and with that perfection comes a deep and abiding love for His children. He loves us deeply, and unconditionally. We, His spirit children, are imperfect, and as such, we must be redeemed through the blood of His Only Begotten Son, Jesus Christ. Through the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ, all mankind will live again, and all will have the opportunity to return to God’s presence. I know this to be true, for God has revealed it to me. I know that God has called prophets to declare his word to the entire world. I also know that those prophets teach the higher knowledge of God, as compared to the lower thoughts and theories of man. In fact, on more than one occasion, I have held a belief that was rooted in the scientific theories of the day, and this belief was directly threatened by the words of the prophet. However, every single time, the words of the prophet have demonstrated themselves to be the will of God: correct and unaffected by the railings of men’s theories. I have aligned my scientific thinking with the revealed truths of God, and in so doing, my understanding of science is further enhanced.

God called a prophet in modern times to reveal His truths to the world. These truths, clear and untarnished, were taught through the prophet Joseph Smith Jr. throughout his short lifetime. The Book of Mormon, which is another testament of Jesus Christ, was translated by the prophet Joseph Smith, and today stands as a brilliant beacon of God’s love and Jesus’ far reaching love. I know these things to be true.

Perhaps most exciting to me is the fact that I am not abandoning logic, reason, or enlightened thinking to have faith in these things. On the contrary, just as strong scientific evidence confirms a theory, strong spiritual communications can confirm a principle taken on faith. Jesus taught that the Holy Ghost “would teach us all things” and that “by the power of the Holy Ghost [we] may know the truth of all things.” Though faith is often required initially in order to take the first step towards spiritual truth, God frequently rewards us with a visitation of his Holy Spirit. Through the manifestations of this Holy Spirit, the truth of all things, spiritual or secular, can be confirmed. I have felt these spiritual communications from the Spirit, and as such I know that the Gospel of Jesus Christ in its fullness has been restored to the earth. I know that only through Jesus Christ can all men be saved, and that to this end, his church, complete with prophets and apostles, has been restored to the earth. With complete confidence, I can attest to the divine love and mercy of Jesus Christ, and proclaim that any who want to “experiment” are free to do so; any who approach God in sincere prayer, with a humble heart, and a sincere desire to act on His answer, regardless of the difficulty, will receive a similar communication from a loving Heavenly Father. Of this I testify, in the name of Jesus Christ, Amen.

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Matthew Memmott was born in 1981 in Bountiful, Utah. He grew up in Centerville, Utah, spending his free time skiing, reading, and learning about science. After serving as a full time missionary in the Minnesota Minneapolis Mission, he received a four-year, full tuition scholarship to Brigham Young University. He graduated from Brigham Young University with a B.S. in Chemical Engineering in 2005. That fall, after being awarded the Department of Energy’s Nuclear Engineering and Health Physics Fellowship, he moved to Boston, where he matriculated in the Nuclear Science and Engineering Program at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology (MIT). He obtained his M.S. Degree from the Nuclear Science and Engineering Department in 2007, with a focus on the optimization of hydrogen production systems integration with gas-cooled fast spectrum nuclear reactors. After designing and evaluating more efficient fast reactor nuclear fuel configurations for his dissertation, he graduated with a Ph.D. in Nuclear Science and Engineering from MIT in the summer of 2009. He has authored or co-authored over twelve publications, and has a pending patent for nuclear reactor design configurations. He currently works as the senior scientist in the Advanced Reactors group at Westinghouse Electric Company, and is the principal investigator in the Westinghouse fast reactor concept development project.

Posted November 2010

If I have a spiritual gift it is perhaps an immense capacity for doubt. I have long lived in the Mormon Diaspora, growing up in Jerry Falwell’s Lynchburg, Virginia. My closest colleagues for twenty years have been a devout Catholic, an observant Jew, a seminary student turned Buddhist, and a born again Episcopalian. My wife Fiona is a lapsed Catholic, lover of the temple and all things beautiful, and fervent disciple of the weeping God of Enoch. I have, in other words, spent my life in intimate association with devout believers from myriad religious traditions; I hear my own professions of faith through their ears, and examine my own religious presuppositions with an eye to theirs.

In the course of my spiritual pilgrimage, my innate capacity for doubt led me to the insight that faith is a choice. That the call to faith is a summons to engage the heart, to attune it to resonate in sympathy with principles and values and ideals that we devoutly hope are true, and have reasonable but not certain grounds for believing to be true. I am convinced that there must be grounds for doubt as well as belief, for only in these conditions of equilibrium and balance, equally “enticed by the one or the other,” is my heart truly free to choose belief or cynicism, faith or faithlessness. Under these conditions, what I choose to embrace, to be responsive to, is the purest reflection of who I am and what I love. I choose to affirm that truthfulness of the Restored Gospel for five principal reasons.

1. Joseph Smith revealed the God I am most irresistibly drawn to worship.
2. He gave the only account of moral agency that to my mind can justify the horrific costs of our mortal probation.
3. He provided a story of the soul’s origin and destiny that resonates with the truth and the appeal of cosmic poetry.
4. The fruits of the gospel are real and discernible.
5. The restoration is generous in its embrace.

My two literary heroes are Dostoevsky’s Ivan from The Brothers Karamazov, and Mark Twain’s Huck Finn. Confronted with the God of their contemporaries, they chose to renounce the ticket rather than bow to the cruelty or the injustice of an omnipotent God.

I could never worship or adore a God who recoils in jealous insecurity because “man has become as one of us.” I could never desire to emulate the divine nature of a sovereign who does not save all of those who are in his power to save. And I could never love a God “without body, parts, or passions,” who does not himself feel love, or grief, or joy, or gladness. Christianity gave us the only God who was willing to die on behalf of his creation, as my wife has taught me. Joseph Smith added to that conception a God who intends our full participation in “the divine nature,” who will bestow upon every single one of his children all that they “are willing to receive,” and who made himself vulnerable enough to weep at our pain and misery. That is a God I am powerfully drawn to and gladly worship.

To say that without moral independence “there is no existence” is to make agency the essential constituent of our human identity. To my understanding, this means that God’s intervention in our personal and collective destiny is self-circumscribed by his reverence for that fact. And any gift he gives us which we do not choose to receive is an abrogation of that agency. This is the only theodicy or beginning to a theory of human salvation that makes any sense to me.

I sense, but do not know for certain, that the spiritual part of my being has an eternal past. As an explanatory paradigm, this view has awesome power. It provides a compelling reason for the intuitive sense of right and wrong, the familiar ring of myriad truths, friendships that erupt full-blown, hunger for a God we have not known in mortality, and a hundred moments of déjà vu in the presence of the Good, the Beautiful, and the True. And I cannot begin to fathom what it means to “become like God,” but Enoch gave us a glimpse. It means to love with infinite cost, to have a heart that “swells wide as eternity” in order to be filled with joy and sorrow alike. It is a prospect that sobers more than excites, but it is a prospect nonetheless that the pilgrimage of parenthood affirms and foreshadows.

The gospel works. I have seen its power to transform human life. I can affirm, as Gerard Manley Hopkins did, that “Christ plays in ten thousand places, lovely in limbs and lovely in eyes, not his, to the Father, through the features of men’s faces.” New converts and returned missionaries, who in their testimonies unexpectedly speak “with the tongues of angels,” a simple eloquence not of their own resources. Parting words of a beloved friend near death, before whom the veil grew suddenly thin to transparency. Lives redirected and imbued with sudden beauty, to rival anything narrated by a Dickens or a Hugo (whose stories of redemption resonate with their own transcendent power and familiarity).

Finally, the restored gospel is a gospel of liberality and generosity. It took my former-Catholic wife Fiona to teach me that the church John saw did not disappear; it retreated into the wilderness. Joseph Smith saw the Restoration as a bringing of that church back out of the wilderness, a restoration of the “ancient palace” now reduced to ruins, a reassembling of all the good and beautiful in the world and in the Christian tradition, that had been lost or corrupted from Eden forward. The church I love has invisible borders, and reminds me of what was written of Spinoza, that “he rejected the orthodoxy of his day not because he believed less, but because he believed more.” Or as Joseph wrote, “it feels so good not to be trammeled.”

For myriad reasons, but these five principally, I choose and affirm this path in order better to live as what Elder Uchtdorf calls “a disciple of the gentle Christ.”

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Terryl Givens was born in rural upstate New York, but spent his childhood in Arizona and then Virginia. After service as a missionary for the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints in São Paulo, Brazil, he received his bachelor’s degree in comparative literature from Brigham Young University and then, in 1988, his Ph.D. in comparative literature from the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill. He accepted a position to teach English literature at the University of Richmond in the same year, and has lived with his family near Richmond, Virginia, with his family since then. He currently holds the James A. Bostwick Chair in English at the university, and has also served as a local Latter-day Saint bishop.

Dr. Givens’s early work focused on literary studies and, specifically, on romanticism. His dissertation and early publications treated the classical theory of mimesis and its dissolution in the nineteenth century. He shifted his research emphasis to the intersection of literary and religious studies with his first book, The Viper on the Hearth: Mormons, Myths, and the Construction of Heresy, which was published by Oxford University Press in 1997. Since then, he has written prolifically, including By the Hand of Mormon: The American Scripture that Launched a New World Religion (Oxford, 2002); The Latter-day Saint Experience in America (Greenwood, 2004); People of Paradox: A History of Mormon Culture (Oxford, 2007); The Book of Mormon: A Very Short Introduction (Oxford, 2009); When Souls Had Wings: Pre-Mortal Existence in Western Thought (Oxford, 2010); and, with Matthew Grow, Parley P. Pratt: A Cultural and Intellectual Biography (Oxford, forthcoming). He has also published a well-regarded children’s book, Dragon Scales and Willow Leaves (G. P. Putnam’s Sons, 1997).

Posted November 2010

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

– Mosiah 4:9

As I contemplated what to write for the dedication of my Ph.D. thesis, I flipped through the dissertations of my predecessors. Most of them were dedicated to various family members of the author. Though I liked that idea, I had acknowledged my family warmly in the Acknowledgements section already. I also felt that the dedication should be the one that the thesis was written “to” or “for,” and as proud of me as my parents were for completing my dissertation, it wasn’t written “to” or “for” them. As I pondered this dilemma of the dedication, the idea of Matthew 5:16 kept pressing on my mind: “Let your light so shine before men, that they may see your good works, and glorify your Father which is in heaven.” What I really wanted to do was dedicate my thesis to the Maker of all things—to my God.

Although our Heavenly Father is not the one who granted to me my degree, He is the one “to” whom and “for” whom I felt I had written my dissertation. I knew that He already knew everything I had discovered, yet I felt it was to glorify Him that I had worked so hard to uncover it. I decided to use a scripture for my dedication—not the whole text, just the reference. After a brief search among relevant passages and favorite verses, I decided on Mosiah 4:9 (quoted above). It felt beautifully appropriate…

“Believe in God; believe that he is…”
A strong admonition, yet something I had longed to say to my colleagues for years. The missionary opportunities had to me seemed few, and had never invited such a bold statement. Perhaps someday a colleague would see the reference, search “Mosiah 4:9” on the internet, and find it.

“…that he created all things…”
Among biologists, the idea of God “creating” life and mankind often generates an impatient, condescending tone. I do not claim to know how evolution and God interact, but I believe that they do, and I see no conflict between biology and the Gospel of Jesus Christ.

“…both in heaven and in earth…”
The phrase “in heaven” had special relevance and meaning because my dissertation was on the mechanics of bird flight.

“…believe that he has all wisdom…”
As I performed my research, sometimes I felt that I was merely tapping into God’s understanding. I would pray for help, knowing that He knew what I wanted to discover.

“…and all power, both in heaven and in earth…”
After all my research, I still couldn’t really say “how” birds fly, though I felt I had come closer. I am sure it is possible for us to know, but at times I just want to say that God keeps them aloft.

“…believe that man doth not comprehend all the things which the Lord can comprehend.”
At the end of every dissertation is a feeling that the years invested into research have only scratched the surface. There remains so much to learn of God’s infinite understanding.

The last principle of this verse, that “man doth not comprehend all the things which the Lord can comprehend,” not only applies in research. I find great comfort in knowing that God understands what I do not. He understands how we can live again after we die. He understands how we can be bound forever to our families. He understands how the suffering of Jesus Christ paid for my mistakes. He understands infinitely more.

For the wisdom and power of God, I am eternally grateful.

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Angela M. Berg Robertson received her Ph.D. from Harvard University in 2010, from the Department of Organismic and Evolutionary Biology. Her research focused on the muscle function, kinematics (movement), and aerodynamics of takeoff and landing flight in birds. Portions of her dissertation have been published in the Journal for Experimental Biology, and the rest is currently in preparation for publication. She graduated from Duke University with a B.S. in Biology and a minor in Religion. She is currently a post-doctoral fellow at the University of Houston Center for Neuromotor and Biomechanics Research (in the National Center for Human Performance at the Texas Medical Center), where she is studying human locomotion.

Posted November 2010

My first responsibility as an academic administrator at the university level at BYU was to manage the process by which “tenure” (we call it “continuing faculty status”) is granted to faculty members. Part of that responsibility involved reading the tenure files of faculty from across the university and the evaluations of their students, peers (both inside and outside the university), and their department and college leaders. What a surprise it was for me to see how very different the criteria were across the many disciplines for determining whether faculty members were qualified to “profess” that they knew something in their discipline. Criteria included performance virtuosity, theoretical rigor and insightfulness, creativity and care demonstrated in laboratory manipulation and statistical analysis, novelty of perspective, the number of others who cite the faculty member’s work, artistic flare, etc. Nevertheless, each department in the University was required to clarify for those of us outside that discipline how they determined whether the contributions and professions of a faculty member were valid.

This request to share my testimony with others whose criteria for professing that they know something might differ from mine leads me to first clarify the basis for my claims. Using these criteria I will then share several things that I “know.”

The last chapter in the Book of Mormon contains a promise that people can know that the things presented in this book of scripture are true if they “ask God, the Eternal Father, in the name of Christ.” If they ask with a “sincere heart, with real intent, having faith in Christ, he will manifest the truth of it unto you by the power of the Holy Ghost. And by the power of the Holy Ghost ye may know the truth of all things.”¹ The things of God, says the apostle Paul in the New Testament, can only be learned through the “Spirit of God.”² By that spirit, God speaks to us in our mind and in our heart.³ If we study something out in our mind and then ask God, he will cause us to feel through that same spirit either a confirming feeling indicating that our conclusions are appropriate or a “stupor of thought” suggesting that our thinking is wrong.⁴ We can study out or test the truthfulness of the things we are seeking to understand and know by living what God asks—for example, through reading the scriptures and obeying what we learn. As we do so, if these things are true, the Lord will help us to feel that our soul is being enlarged and our understanding enlightened. By this means, we can know that they are good and true.⁵

I have used these promises and understandings to experiment on the word of God and have felt a powerful confirmation of the truthfulness of several things. In this light, I want to share some things of God that I know.

I know that God the Father and His Son Jesus Christ appeared to Joseph Smith in 1820 and that through him they restored the Church of Jesus Christ in our era. That witness has been confirmed to my heart and mind so powerfully on so many occasions that I cannot doubt that it really occurred. I therefore know that God is a real being and that He loves His children and that we can communicate with Him as one person communicates with another. I also know that He is a being of glory whose light and power are beyond description.

I know that Jesus Christ is God’s Son and that He died for all of us so that we can overcome our sins and so that He can comfort and support us through life’s trials and struggles. I have felt His forgiveness by the power of the Holy Ghost and have experienced a change in my heart so that I want to do better and be better. As a church official I have helped many who sought forgiveness to trust in the Savior, repent of their wrongdoing, and make covenants with Him. I have seen their lives changed for the good. I have watched them become better fathers, mothers, children, friends, etc. I have helped many to find comfort in the loss of loved ones, strength to endure emotional and physical illness, and hope for even greater blessings in this life and in the life that surely follows because of His suffering for us and His resurrection from the dead.

I know that the Book of Mormon is the word of God because I have read, pondered, and applied the teachings of the Book of Mormon and because I have asked God in prayer according to the promise cited earlier. When my mother died as I was starting my senior year in high school, the Book of Mormon’s teachings about the world of spirits and the reuniting of body and spirit in the resurrection were among my greatest reassurances. I have thrilled to feel a growing conviction that the Book of Mormon contains the words of Christ and is thus a companion to the Bible in witnessing His divinity. The words of one of the Book of Mormon prophets are an example of the straightforward, simple, and powerful claims and teachings made in this holy writ: “And now, my beloved brethren . . . hearken unto these words and believe in Christ; and if ye believe not in these words believe in Christ. And if ye shall believe in Christ ye will believe in these words, for they are the words of Christ, and he hath given them unto me; and they teach all men that they should do good. And if they are not the words of Christ, judge ye—for Christ will show unto you, with power and great glory, that they are his words, at the last day; and you and I shall stand face to face before his bar; and ye shall know that I have been commanded of him to write these things, notwithstanding my weakness.”⁶

I have come to know that people don’t cease to exist when they die but go on to live in a world of spirits wherein they have the opportunity to hear the gospel of Jesus Christ if they haven’t heard it before. I have come to know that they can be close to us at times. In temples built and dedicated to that purpose we may make covenants with God that will unite us with our families for the eternities and we may do work (baptisms and other ordinances) for those who have died without hearing the gospel. They may choose to accept this vicarious work or not.

I have felt guided in my work as a professor. As I have done all I could do and asked for help, I have received ideas that came from beyond me and that were better than I am normally able to develop. I have experienced often in the classroom the guidance of the spirit of the Lord to remember something that would further the learning of students or been impressed to ask questions that weren’t in my teaching notes but that significantly improved the discussion and learning. I am not always guided this way but I know that from time to time something higher than I is helping and lifting my efforts, especially when I forget myself and desire deeply to help others.

In these and in many other similar experiences I feel humbled by the power for good that I feel working with and through me. I know that God lives, that He loves us, and that He wants to bless us as we seek Him and submit ourselves to His tutoring and transforming influences.

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Notes:
¹ Moroni 10: 4-5
² 1 Corinthians 2:11
³ Doctrine and Covenants 8:2
⁴ Doctrine and Covenants 9: 8-9
⁵ Alma 32: 28-29
⁶ 2 Nephi 33: 10-22

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Alan L. Wilkins earned his Ph.D. in Organizational Theory from Stanford University and is a professor in the Department of Organizational Leadership and Strategy in the Marriott School of Management at Brigham Young University. He chaired BYU’s Department of Organizational Behavior from 1992-1993, and then served as the University’s Associate Academic Vice President (1993-1996) and Academic Vice President (1996-2004) before being called to preside over the Argentina Buenos Aires North Mission of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints from 2004-2007. He currently serves as Associate Director of the BYU Faculty Center.

Posted November 2010