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The Reasonable Leap into Light: A Barebones Secular Argument for the Gospel

Daniel C. Peterson

Well, we’re running a bit late and so I’m going to try to go through this fairly quickly. But I have to say that John Lynch, the chairman of the FairMormon board, explained to me that the reason that they had decided to go late was to give me more time to finish my talk, which I very much appreciate.

All right, I want to talk about a topic that I’ve been thinking about for a long, long time and I called it — the title that has been in my mind for a long time has been The Reasonable Leap into Light. It’s an allusion to the concept of a leap of faith. The subtitle – A Bare-bones Secular Argument for the Gospel – I don’t know, that just came to me. I probably won’t use it again, but I wanted to address an issue that has bothered me for a long, long time. I hear people say things like, “I know it’s not rational, I know it’s not logical, but I choose to believe.” And what I want to argue is that belief is not irrational. It is not illogical. You’re not crucifying your mind in order to believe. I’m not going to argue that you can prove religious claims true or specifically Latter-day Saint claims true. But I am going to argue that they’re reasonable. And I think in some cases, on some specific issues, we can get pretty strong security.

What do I mean by a secular argument? I mean an argument that’s not going to call upon things like the Spirit, the witness, the testimony of the Holy Ghost. That is a different thing, but that can’t be delivered to you by a lecture or by reading a book by itself. You have to get that yourself from God, that’s personal and individual to you. What I want to argue, though, is that there are arguments that can be made for the rationality of the Gospel, of belief in God, in Christianity and in specifically Mormonism. So I’m going to be offering not so much the secular argument that I want to give, but an outline of the kind of argument that I would want to give and I’m going to dip in on occasion to give you some of the texture of that, some specifics. But believe me, I’m talking about a much bigger project than I’m going to be able to outline right now.

I started off – and I may have mentioned this before — but I started off wanting to write a book. I was involved with a young man who wanted to leave the church. He wanted to have his name removed from the records and I began trying to formulate arguments that might help him out. And eventually I thought, you know, some of these are pretty good. Maybe they should be written up into a short book. So I began tinkering with a short book and then it became a big book, and then I broke it into two books. And now I’ve broken it into four books. I’m splitting off a fifth book. And now just today, the thought occurred to me, maybe there’s a sixth book that really needs to be written as sort of a preface to this. So the fact is I’m probably going to die before I publish any of them. That’s the only way they’ll get published. They’ll have to rip them out of my cold fingers. But it’s a big project and it frustrates me sometimes because I think there are things that – they’re already out there. I’m not claiming much of this to be original with me — but there are things that I’d like to put together in maybe an original way or a way that many Latter-day Saints, at least, haven’t seen and that it might be helpful to some people. I’m frustrated by how long it takes. I just don’t get to it. Or, rather, I’m getting to it in bits and pieces but it’s such a big project it’s going to take a long while to get to. But I’d love to get it out there and the sooner I can the better, I suppose.

I’m going to be drawing on a couple of thinkers. Let’s see if I’ve got this going the right way. Yes. One of them is William James. William James was, some have argued, one of the greatest philosophers ever produced in the United States. He was the brother of the novelist Henry James. He was really a psychologist. His Principles of Psychology[1] was a foundational text in the discipline, but he has become famous as a founder of pragmatism and so on. He was one of the great figures in the philosophy program at Harvard until his death in 1910. And there are a lot of things that I want to borrow from William James. I’ll just mention one today. One is an analogy that he used about a carriage. He’s talking about decision making under conditions of uncertainty where you don’t know absolutely, certainly, whether x is true or y is true but you have to make a decision nonetheless. And he says, imagine yourself in a carriage. The driver has gone in to get a drink. This is like one of those stories about Joseph Smith. Suddenly the carriage begins to roll down the hill and it’s going faster and faster. You have to make a decision. How are you going to react to this? You’re not sure whether it would be safer to stay in the carriage. You know, that might be safe, but on the other hand, it might smash into something at the base of the hill and you die. Would it be wiser to jump out? On the other hand, if you jump out you might be killed. You just don’t know. He says under conditions like that, either decision is rational. That’s sort of a basic statement of rationality, that if you can’t really decide, you have to just kind of go with one and it’s, you know, as long as it’s roughly 50-50 or 60-40, or something like that, you’re not making an irrational decision. You might turn out to be wrong, but you were reasonable in making that decision.

That’s one of the ways I’m going to be looking at rationality. If I can get you to something like 50-50 then I’m relatively happy. You then have to choose based on your own personality, your predilections, your spiritual intuitions and so on. But as I say, in some cases I think I can take the argument further than 50-50. William James also talks about live options versus dead options. In some cases people simply won’t consider a case because it seems so absurd to them that they don’t even want to look at the evidence, and we do that all the time, frankly. If somebody comes to me arguing that the Earth is flat, I’m not really interested in the technical arguments that a flat-earther might make. On the whole, I just don’t see it as a live option. For me it’s a dead option. For some people Mormonism is a dead option, right? I got an e-mail from somebody just today. When I invited him to consider the evidence about the witnesses and he said, “No, it’s not worth my time.” And I said, “Well, fine. You make your decisions, then you live with the consequences. I’ve tried to persuade you to look at Richard Anderson’s book, for example. If you don’t want to, that’s your decision. It’s up to you.”

There is another thinker that I have in mind as I sort of look at this issue, which is Pascal, the great French mathematician and philosopher. You may know Pascal’s wager. Pascal said basically, look, in this life, again under conditions of uncertainty, assuming you really don’t know, you have to decide what would be most in your interest. You could assume there is no God and live a life of worldliness and so on. If, when you die, you’re dead and that’s it, well, you haven’t lost anything. On the other hand, you haven’t gained much because you’re dead. But he said, assume that there is a God and you make the right wager, then you will have gained a lot. If you make the wrong wager, you will pay a big price for that. It’s a fairly cold, calculating sort of wager. I’ll come back to that point in just a minute. But it has one obvious weakness, which is that it doesn’t allow you to decide. He lived in a society that was overwhelmingly Catholic. That was the religious option that was available to him. But if you live in a pluralistic society, you’re still left with a question, “Okay, I want to be religious. I want to be faithful. Should I be a Muslim, a Hindu, a Buddhist, a Christian? If a Christian: Catholic, Protestant, Methodist, Mormon, Jehovah’s Witness, Christian Scientist?” It doesn’t help you decide there. Nevertheless, it does say something about which way you ought to be inclined under conditions of uncertainty. So I’ll be coming back to that. I’m going to also be drawing on this cute little thing. Some of you may recognize it.

Equation

This is Bayes’ theorem. Bayes’ theorem is a theorem in probability theory and statistics which describes the probability of an event based on conditions that might be related to the event. I won’t get into the details, but if you have a case where certain things are true, that makes certain other things more likely than not. If you believe there is a God, for example, the probability that Christ rose from the dead rises a bit. If you believe there absolutely is no God and no supernatural then the probability of Christ rising from the dead is very, very low, given your assumptions. In other words, it could become a live or a dead option, depending on what you believed before that. So my case is a cumulative case where I’m trying to argue certain things. Theism first, then Christian theism, then if I’ve got you that far, Mormon Christian theism, OK? And I’m happy with anybody who follows me any distance along the way with those arguments. The further I can get them, the happier I am. But I’m happy if I can get them from atheism to theism, from theism to Christian theism and so on. I’ll give you a little more detail on that for those of you who want to study Bayes’ theorem.

Bayes Theorum

An example would be if you say that John has cancer, it might be helpful to know that John is age 65. You’re not sure that he has cancer, but if he’s 5 the odds are somewhat higher than if he’s 10. because cancer is often related to age. So the information about his age might increase or decrease the probability that the diagnosis of cancer is accurate.

As I say, I’m bracketing the question of personal revelation, but it’s not because I don’t think it important. It’s simply because that’s not something that I can deliver to you with a book or a lecture or even a film project, as I’m hoping possibly to do in connection with this.

And I wanted to come back to Pascal. He’s been accused of being sort of bloodless and coldly rational and cynical in this wager of his; but you have to understand Pascal’s own biography. That wasn’t his personal stance. Here’s something that was found sewn into the lining of his coat when he died, by his servant. The servant found a paper that he’d sewn into his coat, which obviously meant a great deal to him. He was talking about an event that occurred to him on November 23, 1654. He was in his Paris apartment when he evidently had something like a vision, what he called a “night of fire.” This is what he wrote:

“From about half-past ten in the evening
until … half-past midnight.
Fire.
The God of Abraham, the God of Isaac, the God of Jacob.
Not of the philosophers and intellectuals.
Certitude, certitude, feeling, joy, peace.
The God of Jesus Christ.
…
Oh just Father, the world has not known you,
but I have known you.
Joy, joy, joy, tears of joy.
…
This is eternal life, that they know you the one true God and [Jesus Christ] whom you have sent.”

And then he closes: “Your God [will be] my God,”[2] quoting Ruth in the Bible. So obviously that goes way beyond what I can offer with a lecture, but that needs to be kept in mind. If that comes to you, you don’t need syllogisms, but it may take syllogisms or arguments to get you to the point where religion becomes a live option.

I’ve cited before the case of my own father who – I grew up in a part-member family, marginal mother and non-member father. And it wasn’t until my father began reading the works of Hugh Nibley, fairly late in his life, that the question suddenly occurred to him, as he explained it to me, “Could this possibly be true?” That hadn’t been a live option in his mind until Nibley convinced him that maybe it was worth inquiring about. And he ultimately did join the church.

There are other arguments that could be made. For example, you could argue – and I will make the argument – not that this proves that religion is true, but that religious believers, according to a lot of measurements, a lot of studies, are more contented, healthier and so on. The old argument that Freud made, that religion was some kind of mental illness and that it incapacitated you in some way, this is simply not true. The evidence indicates that religious people are healthier by many, many measures.

There was a book, in fact, done by a professor who teaches a course on C.S. Lewis and Freud at Harvard Medical School, a psychiatrist there, who compares the two of them and which one of them was happier and healthier, mentally and emotionally. Not even close. Not even close, okay? So another person that I will be drawing on is C.S. Lewis. I mean C.S. Lewis is – I read him a lot when I was younger, and then I paused for a while and then I began to read him again and I thought, “Good grief, he’s even better than I thought,” just on a lot of levels. One of the arguments he makes has to do with moral intuition – he’s not the only one who makes it. He, at one point, says, “Try to imagine an utterly new moral value. You can’t, any more than you can imagine a new primary color.” I mean, they just come to you, they’re sort of delivered to you. What does that mean? Is that a rock solid argument for the existence of God? I don’t think so, but it might be an indicator of something in the universe that is beyond just matter and motion, which as we heard today from Steven Webb, matter and motion is a problematic concept in and of itself. If you want to read an interesting book, read Richard Panek’s The 4% Universe.[3] He’s talking about the discovery of dark matter and dark energy. Only 4% of the universe is matter as we know it. The old common sense materialism is dead, because 96% of the universe is something we can’t even figure out what it is. But it’s there in massive quantities, okay? So moral intuition seems to point towards something in the universe that is behind what we can observe, what we can measure, what we can analyze in the test tube.

I’m going to be drawing on John Calvin, an unlikely suspect for a Latter-day Saint. But John Calvin talked a lot about what he called the sensus divinitatis, the sense of the divine, a kind of natural intuition of God. That counts for something too. Or you can look at Alvin Plantinga, the great philosopher of religion at Notre Dame, who has argued for what he calls “proper warrant,” that it is legitimate for people to regard religious faith, the conviction that there is a God, as something that is “properly basic” in his technical terminology, that if their rational functions and their senses and so on are working in a normal way, for them to simply have this overwhelming sense of God, that he exists, is a legitimate stance to take philosophically.[4] I’ll draw on that. I’ll draw on words with a sense of intuition. And this is related back, again, to C.S. Lewis, something that he talked a lot about and it means a lot to me because I understand it. He talks in his autobiography and elsewhere about a sense of longing. He uses the German word Sehnsucht, for it – yearning, or something like that, or a sense of what he called “pure northernness,” hence the slide. For him, and incidentally for me, it’s coincidental, but I understood immediately what he was talking about. There’s a sense of something missing in this universe but it hits you at odd moments. There’s a certain chord in Bach’s Toccata and Fugue in D Minor that hits me every single time. I know when it’s coming, and that hits me. But there are certain landscapes and they point beyond themselves to something that indicates – to borrow Eliza Snow’s phrase – “you’re a stranger and a pilgrim” or “you’re a stranger here.”[5] You know there’s something – it isn’t satisfied. It’s hinted at in this world, but it points to something beyond. These are all the sorts of things that are sort of preparatory.

I’m an Islamicist, right? So I had to draw on something from Islam. Jalal al-Din Rumi, the great Sufi mystic poet, in the very first part of his Masnavi, uses an image of the reed flute. Why is the reed flute so sad sounding? Why is it so plaintive? Because the reed was cut from the riverbed where it belongs and it’s in isolation. It’s been taken away from its home and it wants to get back to where it belongs.[6] And we all have that sense that we want to go back to where we belong. It’s really St. Augustine from the very first page of his Confessions, “Our hearts are restless until we rest in thee.”[7] And for a lot of us – not everybody, clearly – I doubt that Richard Dawkins has ever felt it – but for a lot of us there’s a sort of God-shaped hole in the heart or some sense of spiritual yearning. It may not hit you all the time, and much of our modern life is designed to sort of avoid this feeling. We keep ourselves really busy with all sorts of nonsensical, frenetic activity. But what we’re concealing from ourselves is the sense that there’s something more, right? And a lot of people feel that and Augustine, Lewis and others would argue that it cannot be satisfied until you turn to God in some way.

I’m going to be looking at evidence for the paranormal. I never thought I would be doing this, but I actually am convinced now that there is some fairly solid evidence. Gary Schwartz at the University of Arizona has done some remarkable work on ESP. I mean, psychic stuff. I thought that was crazy. But reading some of the current research and listening to people like John Hick, for example, the late John Hick, the philosopher at Claremont and Birmingham, he said, “no, if you really read the Society of Psychical Research stuff, some of it is actually very difficult to account for,” on the assumption that this universe is just a material commonsense sort of place. There are some funny things going on in the universe that don’t fit the materialist worldview. These all, to me, are indicators of something, something real, something beyond.

Then, this is all preparatory stuff, I’m not into the real argument yet. You can see why this is going to go on and on and on and on.

I want to address the issue of cosmic fine-tuning. The initial question is why is there something rather than nothing. But why is it orderly? Albert Einstein said that “the eternal mystery of the world is its comprehensibility.”[8] Why in the world does it make sense? Or there’s a Hungarian-born American theoretical physicist and also a Nobel laureate by the name of Eugene Wigner who wrote a very famous paper entitled The Unreasonable Effectiveness of Mathematics.[9] And what struck him was how weird it was that mathematicians could sit in their studies inventing mathematical theorems and so on, imaginary numbers and so on, and then they would apply to the universe. Why? Why, in a creature who just evolved sort of randomly in the savannas of Africa or something like that? Why do we even have to have minds, brains that can do this sort of thing? And why does the mathematics that we think of fit the universe? It’s odd. It’s very strange that it applies to the real outside world.

But I want to run a few figures by you, and I’m made a little nervous by the fact there is a theoretical physicist sitting on the front row here. But here we go anyway. Fools rush in where angels fear to tread, right? By the way, I’ve got a title in my head that I want to use for something, I just can’t think of any relevant purpose for it. I wanted to write something called Fools Rush in Where Engels Feared to Tread, about Friedrich Engels and Karl Marx, but I just don’t know what to do with it. Anyway….

Cosmic fine-tuning – I’m going to read this part, because I actually wrote up a few paragraphs on it for something else. Scientific study of the universe in recent decades has revealed an intricate and finely tuned ensemble of factors that make our existence possible. The seminal text is probably Brandon Carter’s 1974 paper Large Number Coincidences and the Anthropic Principle in Cosmology.[10] These factors, sometimes (as in the title of Brandon Carter’s paper) question-beggingly called anthropic coincidences, are necessary conditions for life as we know it and as we can conceive it. (For that reason, some have argued that the proper term ought to be biocentric rather than anthropic.[11]) That they exist is not in question. It’s their significance that’s debated. There are various lists of these, some fairly long. For the sake of brevity, though, I’ll concentrate on just six of them as they’re listed in the appropriately titled book Just Six Numbers written by Sir Martin Rees, the Astronomer Royal of England, former Master of Trinity College, Cambridge, and past President of the Royal Society. “Two of them,” he says, “relate to the basic forces; two fix the size and overall ‘texture’ of our universe and determine whether it will continue for ever; and two more fix the properties of space itself”.[12]

  1. The ratio of the electromagnetic force to the force of gravity (N).This can also be expressed as the electrical force between two protons – you’re not going to have to remember this, but I want you to get the sense of it. This can be expressed as the electrical force between two protons divided by the gravitational force between them. N equals – I’m going to read the number to you, if I can – 1,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000 – OK, I don’t think I left any zeros out. If it were slightly smaller than the value we actually see, Professor Rees says, “only a short-lived miniature universe could exist: no creatures could grow larger than insects, and there would be no time for biological evolution.”[13]
  1. The strong nuclear force.The strong nuclear force accounts for the firmness with which atomic nuclei bind together. It determines how long stars live.[14] It has a value of 0.007 and it “controls the power from the Sun and, more sensitively, how stars transmute hydrogen into all the atoms of the periodic table.”[15] Without the heavier elements – especially carbon – life as we know it would be impossible. But if the value of this constant were .006 or .008, neither they nor we would exist.
  1. The amount of matter in the universe – (Ω) (omega).
    The cosmic number Ω is a measure of the total amount of material in the known universe, regardless of the form in which it occurs, whether in galaxies and diffuse gas or in so-called “dark matter” and “dark energy.” Ω answers the question of “the relative importance of gravity and expansion energy in the universe”[16] after the big bang. “If this ratio were too high relative to a particular ‘critical’ value,” Professor Rees explains, “the universe would have collapsed long ago; had it been too [low], no galaxies or stars would have formed. The initial expansion speed seems to have been finely tuned.”[17] It’s rather, he says, “like sitting at the bottom of a well and throwing a stone up” with such precision that its rise comes to a stop at precisely the top of the well.[18] “[A]t one second after the Big Bang,” he continues, “Ω cannot have differed from unity by more than one part in a million billion.”[19]
  1. Cosmic repulsion (λ) (lambda).In 1998, cosmologists recognized the importance of cosmic antigravity in controlling the expansion of the universe. In particular they noticed that it becomes increasingly important as the expanding universe becomes more diffuse, darker, and emptier. “Fortunately for us (and very surprisingly to theorists),” says Martin Rees, “λ is very small. Otherwise its effect would have stopped galaxies and stars from forming, and cosmic evolution would have been stifled before it could even begin.”[20]
  1. The ratio of the gravitational binding force to rest mass energy (Q).“The seeds for all cosmic structures – stars, galaxies and clusters of galaxies – were all imprinted in the Big Bang.”[21] Q determines what might be called the “texture” or “fabric” of the universe, and is, thus, fundamentally important. Its value is about 1/100,000. “If Q were even smaller,” writes Professor Rees, “the universe would be inert and structureless; if Q were much larger, it would be a violent place, in which no stars or solar systems could survive, dominated by vast black holes.”[22] “Q,” he continues, was “imprinted in the very early universe,” and “the ‘embryos’ of clusters and superclusters – structures stretching millions of light-years across the sky – can be traced back to a time when the entire universe was of microscopic size.”[23]
  1. The sixth of the six numbers – the number of spatial dimensions (D).This may seem a strange one to most of us, but it’s crucial that there are three spatial dimensions. String theory – controversial, I know – holds that there were originally ten or eleven dimensions at the birth of the universe, but they were “compacted” into a lower number. “Life couldn’t exist,” says Professor Rees, “if D were two or four.”[24]

Together, these figures constitute what Martin Rees labels “a ‘recipe’ for a universe.”[25] If any one of them were lacking, we would be lacking as well. Yet each of these six numbers seems to be independent of the other. The value of one cannot be predicted – not thus far, at least – from the value of any other, nor from the assembled values of the others altogether.

To continue with this: “[W]hy,” asks the famous British cosmologist Stephen Hawking, “is the universe so close to the dividing line between collapsing again and expanding indefinitely? In order to be as close as we are now, the rate of expansion early on had to be chosen fantastically accurately. If the rate of expansion one second after the big bang had been less by one part in 1010, [that’s one part in ten billion] the universe would have collapsed after a few million years. If it had been greater by one part in 1010, the universe would have been essentially empty after a few millions years. In neither case would it have lasted long enough for life to develop.”[26]

“[I]f the electric charge of the electron had been only slightly different, stars … would have been unable to burn hydrogen and helium, or else they would not have exploded…. [I]t seems clear that there are relatively few ranges of values for the numbers [for the constants] that would allow for the development of any form of intelligent life. Most sets of values would give rise to universes that, although they might be very beautiful, would contain no one able to wonder at that beauty.”[27]

I’m now going to mention an incredibly large number. Please recall that 1010 is equivalent to the number 1 followed by ten zeros, which is ten billion. 10123, by contrast, is [1] followed by 123 zeros. Imagine the number 1010 multiplied by 10123. It’s a pretty big number. Sir Roger Penrose, who served for many years as the Rouse Ball Professor of Mathematics at the Mathematical Institute at the University of Oxford, is my source for that number. “How big,” he asks, “was the original phase-[space] volume … that the Creator had to aim for in order to provide a universe compatible with the second law of thermodynamics and with what we now observe?… The Creator’s aim must have been [precise] … to an accuracy of one part in [1010 multiplied by 10123]. This is an extraordinary figure. One could not possibly write the number down in full, in the ordinary denary notation: it would be ‘1’ followed by 10123 successive ‘0’s! Even if we were to write a ‘0’ on each separate proton and on each separate neutron in the entire universe – and we could throw in all the other particles as well for good measure – we [would] fall … short of writing down the [number] needed. [This is] the precision needed to set the universe on its course.”[28] “I cannot even recall,” Penrose has written elsewhere, “seeing anything else in physics whose accuracy is known to approach, even remotely, a figure like one part in 1010(123).”[29]

But numbers in the same general ballpark abound. If, for example, the strength of gravity had been different “by one part in ten thousand billion, billion, billion,”[30] writes Robin Collins, we would not exist.

If the ratio of electron-to-proton mass were larger than it is, chemical bonding would be insufficient for life chemistry.[31] The allowable variation, some have calculated, is about one in [1037]. This [is] an incredibly small number. Says Hugh Ross, a Ph.D. astrophysicist turned evangelist, “One part in 1037 is such an incredibly sensitive balance that it is hard to visualize. The following analogy might help: Cover the entire North American continent in dimes all the way up to the moon, a height of about 239,000 miles. (In comparison, the money to pay for the U.S. federal government debt would cover one square mile less than two feet deep with dimes. [That’s still pretty big.] Next, pile dimes from here to the moon on a billion other continents the same size as North America. Paint one dime red and mix it into the [billions of] piles of dimes. Blindfold a friend and ask him to pick out one dime. The odds that he will pick the red dime are one in 1037.”[32] Thus, even Steven Weinberg, a vocally atheist Nobel laureate cosmologist at Princeton, acknowledges that it “does seem remarkably well adjusted in our favor.”[33]

In fact, “[i]f the cosmological constant were not fine-tuned to within an extremely narrow range – one part in 1053 or even 10120 of its ‘theoretically possible’ range of values – the universe would expand so rapidly that all matter would quickly disperse, and thus galaxies, stars, and even small [aggregations] of matter [would] never form.”[34] According to philosopher Robin Collins, the odds of this occurring by random chance are roughly equivalent to those of hitting a bull’s eye on Earth less than the size of a single atom with a dart casually thrown from space.[35] As physicist Stephen Barr comments, “This is one of the most precise fine-tunings in all of physics.”[36]

As Sir Fred Hoyle, another atheist, rather dejectedly wrote, it’s as if “a superintellect has monkeyed with [the] physics, as well as with [the] chemistry and [the] biology, and … there are no blind forces worth speaking about in nature.”[37]

Now, you know, someone might respond to this and say, and people do say all the time, “Well, OK, so the universe is fine-tuned, big deal.” You know, “OK, we live in a universe that makes it possible for us to live. If it didn’t make it possible for us to live, we wouldn’t be here. End of question. You know, that’s it.”

John Leslie wrote a wonderful little book called Universes. He’s a philosopher who looked at this question. He comes up with a nice analogy. He says, OK, that lack of curiosity seems rather unscientific. Imagine you were in front of a firing squad. You’ve been sentenced to die. There are 12 or 15 sharpshooters standing about 25 feet away. They’re aiming at a target on your chest. The person counts down, pronounces the order to fire, they all fire, and … you’re still there. What do you say? “Well, you know, I’m not curious because, obviously, if they’d killed me, I wouldn’t be here to ask the questions. So, you know, so I’m not going to inquire any more to find out why I’m here.” That’s a certain lack of curiosity there, it seems to me.

What I would argue is that it seems to me, that you can at least make the argument. I’m not going to say it’s a slamdunk, but you can at least make the argument, based on these and many other similar things, that intelligence may have been involved in the universe from the start, that there’s something about this that seems as if a superintellect has monkeyed with the physics.

There are other things. I don’t want to spend too much time on that, because I’ve got other things I want to cover. In fact, I need to see how much more time I have here. Oh my, not much. Got to pick up the pace.

All right, this is the famous “blue marble” image, one of the great pictures of the Earth taken from space. It puts it in a different perspective for us. There are some books that have come out within recent years, one of them bearing the title Rare Earth (I quite like that) in which they make the point that the Earth is really quite remarkable. When I grew up, the Earth was an undistinguished planet, in an undistinguished solar system, in an undistinguished part of the Milky Way galaxy. Big deal, you know. The Copernican revolution supposedly dethroned the Earth and all that. We now learn there are a lot of things about the Earth, including plate tectonics and so on, that are really quite remarkable, and if you don’t have them, you can’t have life.

Now, again, does this prove design? I’m not arguing that. I’m arguing that this is not quite so easy to brush off as it might seem. I’m interested with these in only getting into the 50/50 point where you’re willing to consider the possibility that maybe the universe is a “put-up job,” as Fred Hoyle also called it.

OK, so I don’t want to go further on that, but there’s a lot more detail on that particular element of the argument.

Looking at primitive life, for example, the origin of life, when I grew up, the Miller-Urey experiment was the big deal. We all knew that, you know, under certain conditions life would come to be in a natural way, because Miller-Urey had been able to form amino acids, simple amino acids in a test tube. It now turns out that’s probably wrong, because the conditions of the early Earth were not like those in the Miller-Urey experiment, and anyway, amino acids are still not life. We still don’t really know how life arose.

One thing that we do know is that life is incredibly complex, that when you look at something like DNA, you’re looking at the equivalent of thousands of sets of the Encyclopedia Britannica, in terms of data. Now the Encyclopedia Britannica may not mean much to many of you who have never actually seen an encyclopedia, but for the older generation who know what they look like on a shelf, that’s a lot of information, right? So there’s a lot going on in DNA.

And some other things we’ve discovered, that life originated on the Earth about as early as it was physically possible for it to originate. This is really interesting. It used to be thought that, well, given enough time, enough chance, life will come to be. As soon as the Earth was cool enough for [life] to appear, it now seems life appeared. What does that mean? I don’t know, but it does mean that it’s not just a matter of throwing …. Like politicians solve problems by throwing money at them, right? Speculators about the early Earth and life on Earth used to just throw enough time at it – enough time, well anything can happen. It reminds me of the cartoon, maybe some you of you have seen, of the two physicists, they’re standing in front of a white board, and there are all these equations on the white board, but right in the middle of it it says, “then a miracle occurs” and then it goes on. And the one physicist is saying to the other, “You know, maybe you should be more explicit about that stage.” You know?

It’s sort of a “science of the gaps,” if you will. You hear the “God of the gaps” argument dismissed all the time, and rightly so, but there’s a “science of the gaps,” you know, we’re sometimes given a promissory note that well, we’re going to explain this. Maybe they will and maybe they won’t, but the fact is that there are some remarkable things here. And that DNA arises in ways we don’t really know. We could get into the whole specified complexity issue and so on. But I don’t want to spend much more time on that, because I don’t have much more time on that.

One other issue that I want to talk about is the whole issue of consciousness. We don’t know what consciousness is. Now that’s odd, because consciousness is the thing we are most closely acquainted with. We know about our own consciousness. That’s precisely the point. I can cut into somebody else’s head. I can see how the brain functions. We can measure what parts of the brain fire up at certain points. But we cannot have the sense of what’s going on in that head. My personal subjective experiences are mine; they’re not yours. And I can never have yours; you can never have mine. And we don’t know what that means. Where did consciousness come from? Even if you create a really elaborate computer, is it conscious? And how would we know?

What’s his name, the mathematician who’s big, the movie was just done about him?

[Other: Turing.]

Yeah, the Turing machine, you know, the Turing machine problem. You could have something that behaves as if it’s conscious, but how would you know, unless you can gain access to it? We don’t know how to gain access to it.

The whole question of intentionality: I had a dialogue with someone just yesterday – I have these dialogues all the time on the internet, but they’re useful to me. I learn what’s going on out there, what’s agitating the hive, if you will – and this fellow was saying, “Look, thought is nothing more than” … he’s quoting someone; he probably doesn’t know he is, but … “thought is something secreted by the brain in the same way the liver secretes bile,” right? And “it’s just a chemical thing.”

I said, “Well, then, why should I listen to you, any more than I should listen to your toaster?”

He says, “What does that mean? My toaster doesn’t have thoughts.”

And I said, “Well, by your standards, neither do you.” If thought is just a neurochemical event, then what is it? And how can a neurochemical or an electrochemical event be about anything else? I mean, he may be thinking that he’s thinking about the nature of the brain, but toasters aren’t doing anything. I mean, physical events and physical objects aren’t about anything else. If your brain … your liver, when it’s secreting bile, that secretion is not about the planet Mars. The astronomer may be thinking he’s thinking about the planet Mars, but if his brain is no different than his liver or his kidney, it’s hard to know what that would even mean.

But the fact is we know that we do think, OK? I mean, it’s funny to me to see some philosophers of consciousness now saying consciousness is an illusion. Well then, who’s having the illusion? What in the world are you talking about?

It reminds me of the great Bishop Berkeley. He said that everything was just imaginary. And was it … I’m getting this confused now … it’s Samuel Johnson who walks out and kicks a rock, which he said was real and is not a mental event, you know, not hallucination, and he said, “There, I’ve refuted Berkeley.” And in a way, he had. I mean, the very thought that I can think this is wrong proves that the whole idea that I can’t think is wrong. Does that make sense to you? And every one of you here right now, if you’re thinking, “that speaker is an idiot,” you’re proving that I’m right. So you can’t get around this, all right?

So OK, now I want to take the argument a little further and look at something that a lot of you have heard about – near-death experiences. I’m not going to get into the great details of near-death experiences. I’m not interested, for purposes of this argument, in the details of heaven or something like that. But here you may recognize this famous painting, the Ascent into the Empyrean by Hieronymus Bosch. Clearly, it seems to me, he had heard stories of a tunnel of light. Look at that. The souls of the deceased are being taken into this tunnel toward the light at the end of the tunnel. This is not new stuff.

You know, what’s his name, Raymond Moody, just started this a few years ago, basically, and now we know all about the tunnel of light. But it’s been around for a long time. You can find older accounts of it.

What really interests me, though, is the part of those near-death experiences that is connected with out-of-body experiences. Going back to William James – William James once said that all you needed to do to refute the idea that all crows are black is to find one white crow, OK? If you can find one case of a verifiable out-of-body experience, naturalism, materialism, collapses. Right?

Now I think there are a lot of cases like that that look very promising. I’ll mention one – the case of Pam Reynolds. So you may have heard of this, a very famous case in which a woman underwent a very delicate brain operation under the most tightly controlled conditions, in Arizona. Her body was frozen; her brain activity or heart activity, everything, reduced to zero. There was a staff around her watching everything. They were using an experimental knife to cut into her skull and work on her brain. Her eyes were taped shut; her face was muffled with gauze, and so on. She couldn’t see anything; she couldn’t hear anything. They had little clickers in her ears to make sure that if there was any kind of brain activity from those clicking sounds, they would detect it. There was nothing, totally flat-lined for several minutes. When she came out of it, she was able to describe what had gone on in the operating room. She was able to describe and draw this weird knife that they were using, which was an experimental thing she had never seen.

Now that’s just one case of many, but if that case is true, then the naturalistic equation of brain and mind or brain and spirit is false. Right there, it’s overturned. Well, I’m going to be looking at, in some detail, there are a lot of cases like this. And, as I say, one white crow, that’s all you need. If you can get a lot of white crows, even better, but one white crow is enough.

Remember, we’re thinking in Bayesian terms here. The idea is, if you once establish that it’s even possible this universe isn’t the closed, naturalistic system a lot of people think, then certain other things become more plausible.

So I move on to the next stage, which is an argument which I’m not going to do here today. I’m just going to summarize a couple of things. I’m not making any of the arguments in detail that I’m going to make. Believe me, there’s a lot more stuff that I’m talking about –six fairly big volumes that I’m working on.

But now if we’ve established it’s at least possible, you know, that the universe is some sort of more mysterious place than we’d thought, then the whole idea of the resurrection of Christ becomes at least something you can be open to. So what is the evidence for that? Did Christ really rise from the dead?

Well, there are a lot of detailed historical arguments that can be made for this. It was universally agreed in antiquity that the tomb was empty. Jewish critics of Christianity agreed with that. Nobody denied it. From the start, you find that in the New Testament but also in later Jewish materials. They say, yeah, the body was stolen, just what was said in the Gospel of Matthew, right? If Jesus’ body had still been in the tomb, it would have been the easiest thing in the world to put an end to this thing – “Well, there he is, right? Decomposing in the tomb.” But the body wasn’t there.

There are several things that I’ll bring up here. Early witnesses, for example, the oldest things in the New Testament go back very, very early. 1 Corinthians 15, you have a whole list of witnesses. This is early material. That’s within 20 years or so of the death of Christ. And there are creeds quoted in the letters of Paul that seem to be much older. Some people have argued they go back to within five years of the event. It’s not the hundreds of years that the Tübingen School said years ago – “Ah, yeah, these legends grow up; given enough time folklore grows up.”

No, the story of Christ being raised from the dead, physically raised from the dead, is very, very early. Walter Cardinal Kasper in Rome, one of the great New Testament theologians of the 20th and 21st Centuries, has argued actually that some of the material in the New Testament goes back to within one year – one year! – of the event. There’s not a lot of time there for folklore to grow up. Those creedal statements are extremely important. They haven’t been noticed very much.

You have to explain the behavior of the early apostles. One of the explanations was they were just frauds; they made up this story. That’s absurd. I mean, brilliant idea – let’s make up a false religion and go out and get ourselves killed. You know? What’s the motivation for this?

You look at the early chapters of Acts. Something transforms the apostles from that Saturday when they’re hiding out in the upper room and Sunday morning. And then when the Savior appears to them, they are transformed, and they go out after that and they’re speaking on the streets of Jerusalem. They’re arrested, they’re beaten, and so on. The people tell them, “Stop doing this. We’ll beat you. We’ll throw you into prison.” Their response is, “You do what you’ve got to do; we’ll do what we’ve got to do.” They have been transformed by this. How do you explain that?

How do you explain that Peter, who grows up in a tiny little town on the shores of the Sea of Galilee, which is by all accounts very orthodox Jewish – we now can sort of demonstrate that Capernaum was, and Bethsaida probably, from archaeological ruins and remains. But Peter ends up in Rome! What in the world is Peter doing in Rome? How many Galilean fishermen ended up in Rome, a place where they couldn’t even speak the language? Peter might have had a little bit of Greek, but they didn’t speak Greek in Rome; they spoke Latin. He was in the largest city of the ancient world, a place totally foreign to him. What took him there? What transformed him and sent the other apostles around the world? Something really, really big happened, and I’m going to argue that the historical case for the resurrection of Jesus – and this is not original with me; I’ll be drawing on people like N.T. Wright and William Lane Craig and people like that – is much stronger than I used to realize that it was.

OK, so again, remember, we’re thinking in Bayesian terms, and … let’s see how much time I have here now. Oh my, it’s getting tight. I’ll go through this very quickly to outline the logic of the last part. I have 51 seconds by my watch.

OK, well, suppose that I’ve gotten you this far. You’ve said, “OK, I’m willing to entertain the possibility that theism is true. There might be a God. This universe may not be the naturalistic, closed system that I thought it was. Maybe even Jesus rose from the dead. I mean, it’s at least a … it’s a possibility to consider.” That’s N.T. Wright’s conclusion, that, as a historian, he says, the only explanation I can come up with to account for the data is that certainly the apostles thought Jesus rose from the dead.[38] They were really convinced of it. And they claimed to have seen him, to have had encounters with him.

Can I get you all the way to Mormon theism? This is where I go with a whole bunch of stuff, but I just want to show you the general outline of the argument. These … I’m going to concentrate on the Book of Mormon here … these are the two possibilities, it seems to me, that Joseph had the plates or he didn’t have plates.

[crickets chirping] There’s my alarm.

OK, Joseph had plates or he didn’t have plates, right? Then there are several possible subsections of these: he knew he had no plates, he thought he had plates, so on and so forth. Basically, he’s a deliberate deceiver or he’s nuts, right? Or he had the plates but he faked them, or something like that. I want to look at those in somewhat detail. I’m not going to do it today, but just kind of outline some of the basic argument there.

So, first, let’s look at the idea that Joseph had no plates. OK, possibility, he knew he had no plates. First is, he’s a cynical fraud. The evidence against that, it seems to me, is overwhelming. If you look at the personal writings of Joseph Smith that have been coming out over the past few years – journal entries and so on, from the very early period – if he’s not sincere, if he’s not a real believer, then I have no capacity to judge human nature. Because even in his journal, his letters to his wife, his letters to his children, it is absolutely clear, he’s a believer. He really believes he’s had these experiences. He really believes that he had the plates and that he had encounters with Moroni and so on. There’s no evidence of cynical fraud and certainly not … you could argue about polygamy; some people bring that up … but I’m talking here about the Book of Mormon, the early years, just not possible to find. You cannot find it, in my view.

So … was he a 19th Century con man? Well, look what he went through – Liberty Jail, really a pleasant experience for him, and that was just a part of it. There was the tarring and feathering and so on, but that time in Liberty Jail he came as near despair – and I think he really did – as a human possibly could, but he didn’t give in because he knew it was true. The Haun’s Mill massacre – can you imagine? If you have any decency in you at all, that people are dying for this vision that you’ve had. Isn’t it time to say, “look, I just made it up”, or at least disappear, go gracefully away? No, he doesn’t. He stays with it, because he believed it. And then, of course, ultimately he goes to his own death, knowing, I think, pretty well that he was going to. It’s a very odd thing for a conscious deceiver to do. But he’s killed for his testimony. Remember, the word martyr in Greek – mártyros – means both “witness” and “martyr” in our modern sense, and he was that.

Also, think of this, many of his visions, here’s one, are shared with other people. So if he’s a conscious fraud he’s also inducing this in other people or he’s got conscious frauds associating with him. And there are lots of them – his mother, his sister, the three witnesses, the eight witnesses, Sidney Rigdon, it just goes on and on and on. He’s found all these people who are willing to collude with him and who never, ever give any sign that they were deliberate frauds or that they believed it was all a fake. That’s just very hard for me to imagine.

Imagine that there were no plates, but he was a pious fraud. This one’s harder to deal with because, you know, he could give all the appearances of sincerity and so on, but there’s no evidence of this either – that he’s doing this and he made up the story and he convinced other people to go along with him in order to convince people to some noble purpose, like “believe in God, even though I’ve made it all up.” Just no evidence for that but, you know, there are plenty of crazy prophets out there.

OK, Joseph had no plates; he thought he had plates. Is he nuts? Well, again, if he’s just subjectively hallucinating, what do you do with the witnesses? Are they all hallucinating in sync with him? They talk in very specific terms about turning over the plates and hefting them, they were about 60 pounds, and this sort of thing. It’s a very specific kind of mass hallucination, which involves the tactile senses and everything else. Very hard for me to imagine that that’s possible.

All right, let’s assume that Joseph had plates. One possibility is he made them. Let’s assume, again, that he was a cynical fraud. Who made them? Joseph? Where’d he get the gold? Do you realize how much gold that would have taken, to produce even gold alloy that weighed 60 pounds? A lot of gold. Some people have suggested – Joseph showed no metallurgical skills – that Oliver Cowdery was the metallurgist who did this – a blacksmith. Look at the picture of Oliver Cowdery. This is an authentic picture of Oliver Cowdery, the massive man who died of tuberculosis just after 50. He was a very small, and not overly healthy, man. He was not Longfellow’s blacksmith with, you know, the sinewy arms and all that sort of thing, nothing like that. There’s no reason to believe that anybody in the early Latter-day Saint community had access to 40 pounds of gold or 20 pounds of gold, whatever it would have taken to have made this alloy. There’s nobody recording smoke belching out of the secret furnace just to the south of Palmyra or anything like that as they’re producing not only the plates, but the Liahona, the Urim and Thummim, a whole array of specialty metal objects, right? These guys are good. They’re really good and nobody knows that they can do it. Nobody sees the wagonloads of gold going into the Smith home. Remember, they’re subsistence farmers. Where’d they get all this stuff from, and where does it go afterwards? Poof, it’s just gone. They could’ve been incredibly wealthy. We’re talking about millions of dollars’ worth of metal here. There’s no sign of it. There’s no sign that Joseph made the plates, OK?

Possibility 2 –he received them from somebody else. Well, you have a lot of problems with the idea he received them from a contemporary. Who was it, and with what motives, and where did they go? What happens to this enormously impressive metallurgical object with lots of gold in it? Again, just not plausible; there’s no historical evidence for anything like this.

So, some people have posited an invisible group. One guy actually told me how they were so good, they vanished. There’s not a trace of them in history. They’re like the Illuminati, right? They’re so good that they just … they don’t show up anywhere. And their motives? I asked him. He said, “unknown.” Well, you know, you can do that sort of thing all day, like the invisible rabbit in Harvey. Only he had more evidence behind him, actually.

So I want to suggest, yes, he did get the plates from somebody else. He received them from a non-contemporary. I have a suggestion. And to me, that argument right there makes logical sense.

Well, I just want to close with this. I’ve gone on way too long. What I want to lay out is a logical case that will lead somebody, I hope, to think, “you know, maybe there’s something to this.” I can’t get them to belief. And I think a belief that was based on a set of arguments like this would not be stable, would not be adequate. But you want to get them to the point, as my father was brought to the point, where eventually he had to find out, Is this true? Does this make any sense? He concluded that it did because of things that came to him. I can’t deliver those things. Those are the personal subjective things. But the Book of Mormon contains that wonderful promise that that kind of assurance can come to you. And if this kind of argumentation can save someone who’s on the way out or help somebody who’s teetering on the brink of the way in, then the argument will have achieved its purpose. But the most important thing, of course, is the witness of the Spirit. I don’t negate that; I don’t deny that or minimize it.

I want to bear you my testimony that the Gospel is true. It does make logical sense. We don’t have to say, “I know it’s irrational but I choose to believe.” It is not an irrational choice. It’s maybe not one that you can prove to the satisfaction of an indifferent public, but it’s not irrational. It’s a rational choice, under conditions of limited and indecisive public evidence. It’s a rational way to go. In the name of Jesus Christ, amen.

Q&A

Question:         With numerous factors of nature that make life possible, there is not one factor to make life impossible. Why do scientists ignore the obvious?

Answer:           Well, you know, obviously there is no factor that has made life impossible or we wouldn’t be here. But yeah, there are people who are very impressed by these cosmic fine-tuning arguments. There are others who say no, no, no, we just happen to live in a universe among a multiverse and the other multiverses presumably are sterile and the laws of nature are different. It’s hard to prove that or disprove it. There are some theoretical reasons to believe it. But it doesn’t strike me as a very persuasive way. And it seems to me if you want to go with Occam’s razor – the principle you invoke the simplest explanation – then maybe God is just as easy as the multiverse in some ways. Don’t multiply entities unnecessarily. Some people say, well, I just can’t believe in God, but I do believe in an infinitude of bubble universes, you know, and so on. But again, I’m not trying to get you to certainty. I’m just trying to get you to the point where you are willing to entertain the possibility.

Question:         Do you discuss consciousness or the mind-body problem – oh, yes – in other words, the question of how dead matter can form the thing called thought?

Answer:           I would argue that we don’t know how dead matter can form the thing called thought. We can produce machines that can imitate thought. We’ll get to be very good at this. But will they be conscious? It’ll be impossible to know. I don’t actually know – Alvin Plantinga has argued this – I don’t actually know that anybody here is conscious. I mean, you might all be automatons. I may be the only conscious person in the world, for all I know. Some of you – many of you, actually – act conscious. But I can’t know it. You might be a really good imitation. You might be a really fine robot.

Question:         So there is a job opening currently at the Maxwell Institute. Have you considered applying for it? [LAUGHTER, APPLAUSE]

Answer:           The thought has crossed my mind. I have this mischievous streak.

Question:         What do you think of intelligent design?

Answer:           I don’t write it off. I think that they raise some good arguments. You know, I’ve seen the arguments that it’s not really science, and maybe that’s not true. That’s not what I want it to be. It does raise some interesting issues, just things that, to me, make you go, wow – you know, that DNA is so complex, that the universe is so complex and so fine-tuned. Do I say this proves there was an intelligent designer and that intelligent designer is God? I don’t think it proves that, but I think it might give rise to a belief that it was so. And I think in a sense, any Latter-day Saint who believes that God had something to do with the creation has to believe in some form of intelligent design. I mean that’s kind of basic to the gospel – that the universe didn’t occur by chance. I’m not a big one on the details of Genesis or anything like that. I don’t argue about, you know, periods of creation, exactly what it means. But I think – I’ve argued when talking about Genesis, and Revelation, too, I’ll say – the importance of these two bookends of the Bible is to show you that God is in charge at the beginning and at the end. You may not get all the details of the end of the world – I’m not so worried about that – but the point is to reassure you as things get really bad, God is still in charge, it’ll turn out okay. At the beginning, analogously, we may not know all the details and Genesis doesn’t actually give you a lot of details about how things come to be, but it does tell you that God is involved with it, and that’s the basic thing you have to know. That, to me, is a kind of basic, rudimentary intelligent design. I’d go that far.

Question:         Are you still working on a TV series about these things – scientific evidence showing design of the Earth, universe, life, etc. I hope so.

Answer:           I hope so too. The trouble is it involves a lot of money and time, and the amount of money it would take is daunting. So if any of you out there haven’t given enough to FairMormon, there’s another cause. [Scott Gordon: We could do a joint project.] Okay, he’s willing to cooperate with me.

Question:         Any thoughts on Randi’s million dollar prize for any supernatural evidence?

Answer:           You know, I haven’t really looked into it very much. I’m leery of anything where an avowed skeptic is judge, jury, and executioner. To me there’s evidence for – I don’t know that I’d call it supernatural; I have a problem with the term – but something, as I say, beyond the closed, naturalistic system, I think the evidence is pretty good for that. I think the very existence of consciousness may be evidence for that. I think the Pam Reynolds case may be evidence for that. But would it pass muster with James Randi? I tend to believe, look, the evidence is never strong enough to force you. It’s strong enough to suggest. It’s strong enough to justify belief. It’s not strong enough to compel belief. And I think that’s deliberate. I think that’s the universe we’re supposed to be in.

Question:         One explanation for Joseph Smith and the Book of Mormon could be satanic-derived supernatural to deceive him and others. This is the only anti-Mormon explanation I’ve heard with any merit. Of course, I believe this is a ridiculous explanation, but you may want to add it onto your list.

Answer:           That is, you know, sort of like the pious fraud thing. It’s a little hard to defend against, because I’m not sure it makes any real predictions that you can falsify, you know, which is essential for a scientific theory and probably a historical one. But everything you can say – “Well, he looks sincere.” “Yeah, he would, wouldn’t he?” “Well, there’s no evidence he’s a fraud.” “Of course there isn’t. There wouldn’t be, would there?” I mean, I don’t know what to do with that, except to say, look at the fruits of it. I mean Mormons are healthy, they’re happy, it’s a good way of life. And if you think Satan is that devious that he would actually construct a happy mode of life for millions of people in order to defraud us and send us to hell, well, okay. If that’s the kind of universe you want to live in, it’s yours.

Notes:

[1] William James, The Principles of Psychology (New York: H. Holt and Company, 1890).

[2] Marvin R. O’Connell, Blaise Pascal: Reasons of the Heart (Grand Rapids, Michigan: Wm. B. Eerdmans Publishing Co., 1997), 95-97.

[3] Richard Panek, The 4% Universe: Dark Matter, Dark Energy, and the Race to Discover the Rest of Reality (Boston, New York: Houghton Mifflin Harcourt, 2011).

[4] See Alvin Plantinga, Warrant and Proper Function (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1993).

[5] Eliza R. Snow, “O My Father,” hymn 292, in Hymns of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints (Salt Lake City: The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, 1985).

[6] See Jalal al-Din Rumi, “The Lament of the Reed-Flute,” in Tales from the Masnavi, trans. A.J. Arberry, (New York: Routledge, 1993), 21.

[7] See Augustine, The Confessions of St. Augustine, trans. J.G. Pilkington (CreateSpace Independent Publishing Platform, 2015), 25.

[8] Albert Einstein, “Physics and Reality,” Journal of the Franklin Institute 221 (1936): 351.

[9] Eugene P. Wigner, “The Unreasonable Effectiveness of Mathematics in the Natural Sciences.” Richard Courant lecture in mathematical sciences delivered at New York University, May 11, 1959, in Communications on Pure and Applied Mathematics 13 (1960): 1–14.

[10] Brandon Carter, “Large Number Coincidences and the Anthropic Principle in Cosmology,” in Confrontation of Cosmological Theories with Observational Data (I.A.U. Symposium 63) ed. M. Longair (Dordrecht: Reidel, 1974), 291–298.

[11] Alister E. McGrath, A Fine-Tuned Universe: The Quest for God in Science and Theology (The 2009 Gifford Lectures) (Louisville, Kentucky: Westminster John Knox Press, 2009), xii note 14.

[12] Martin Rees, Just Six Numbers: The Deep Forces That Shape the Universe (New York: Basic Books, 2000), 2.

[13] Rees, Just Six Numbers, 2; compare Rees, Just Six Numbers, 33-35.

[14] Rees, Just Six Numbers, 52-56.

[15] Rees, Just Six Numbers, 2; compare Rees, Just Six Numbers, 52-56.

[16] Rees, Just Six Numbers, 2.

[17] Rees, Just Six Numbers, 2; compare C.B. Collins and Stephen Hawking, “Why is the Universe Isotropic?” Astrophysical Journal 180 (1973): 317-334.

[18] Rees, Just Six Numbers, 88.

[19] Rees, Just Six Numbers, 88.

[20] Rees, Just Six Numbers, 3; compare Rees, Just Six Numbers, 111.

[21] Rees, Just Six Numbers, 3.

[22] Rees, Just Six Numbers, 3.

[23] Rees, Just Six Numbers, 56; compare Rees, Just Six Numbers, 128-29.

[24] Rees, Just Six Numbers, 3.

[25] Rees, Just Six Numbers, 4.

[26] Stephen Hawking and Roger Penrose, The Nature of Space and Time (Princeton: Princeton University Press: 1996), 89-90.

[27] Stephen Hawking, A Brief History of Time: From the Big Bang to Black Holes (New York: Bantam Books, 1988), 125.

[28] Roger Penrose, The Emperor’s New Mind: Concerning Computers, Minds, and The Laws of Physics (New York: Oxford University Press, 1989), 344 (emphasis in original).

[29] Roger Penrose, “Time-Asymmetry and Quantum Gravity,” in Quantum Gravity 2: A Second Oxford Symposium, eds. C.J. Isham, R. Penrose, and D.W. Sciama (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1981), 249.

[30] Robin Collins, “The Teleological Argument: Fine-Tuning,” in Blackwell Companion to Natural Theology, eds. William Lane Craig and J.P. Moreland (Malden, Mass.: Wiley-Blackwell, 2009), 214.

[31] Hugh Ross, “Big Bang Model Refined by Fire,” in Mere Creation: Science, Faith & Intelligent Design, ed. William A. Dembski (Downers Grove, Ill.: InterVarsity Press, 1998), 373.

[32] Hugh Ross, The Creator and the Cosmos: How the Greatest Scientific Discoveries of the Century Reveal God (Colorado Springs: NavPress Publishing Group, 1993), 109.

[33] Steven Weinberg, A Designer Universe?, The New York Review of Books (Oct. 21, 1999), available at http://www.nybooks.com/articles/archives/1999/oct/21/a-designer-universe/.

[34] Robin Collins, “The Teleological Argument,” in The Routledge Companion to Philosophy of Religion, eds. Chad Meister and Paul Copan (New York: Routledge, 2007), 352.

[35] Robin Collins, “The Evidence of Physics: The Cosmos on a Razor’s Edge, An Interview with Robin Collins,” in Lee Strobel, The Case for a Creator: A Journalist Investigates Scientific Evidence That Points Toward God (Grand Rapids, Mich.: Zondervan, 2004), 134.

[36] Stephen M. Barr, Modern Physics and Ancient Faith (Notre Dame, Ind.: Univ. of Notre Dame Press, 2003), 130.

[37] Fred Hoyle, “The Universe: Past and Present Reflections,” in Annual Review of Astronomy and Astrophysics 20 (1982): 16.

[38] See N. T. Wright, “The New, Unimproved Jesus,” Christianity Today, September 13, 1993, 26.

Some Reflections On That Letter To a CES Director

 

[Editor’s note: This transcript has been lightly edited for clarity.]

Daniel C. Peterson
August 8, 2014

Some of you don’t know what the “Letter to a CES Director” is. It’s a letter that’s been circulating online for about a year now…a year and a half, I think, as far as I know, that has gotten quite a bit of circulation. It’s a kind of compendium of standard critical arguments against the truth claims of the Church. It’s entitled “Letter to a CES Director: Why I Lost My Testimony,” and it was written, as the story goes, by request of a CES director who wanted to know why this young man had decided to leave the Church. He wrote the letter. The CES director said he would get back to him with answers, but he did not, according to the story. Now the thing is about 90 pages long, and it’s just a rata-tat-tat list of objections. I can understand why a normal person confronted by that would say, “Well, you know, I’ve got a life. Its 90 pages of quick and dirty objections would take 500 pages to respond to, and probably wouldn’t do much good, so, never mind.”

I have to say, some people have said and speculated online that I’m addressing this topic out of my deep concern and paranoia. Well, I am sort of concerned about the letter in the sense that it’s had some impact, but actually it was not my idea to address it. Someone said, “You know, maybe you should address that. Maybe that would be a good topic.” I said, “‘Yes, OK. I’ll think about that,’ and the next thing I knew, PR was going out saying that’s what I was addressing. So, I will do it. Why not? I was asked to do it and I have to say, my reaction to reading the thing, which I put off reading for a long time, was sadness and frustration. I found it very painful to go through the 90 pages. It is wearisome reading and, at point after point, multiple times per page, I was exasperated. My impression is that the author is someone who had leanings in more of what you might call a fundamentalist direction than my own, but he was blindsided by things that he was learning about history and historical difficulties that he had not encountered before. He lost his trust and felt betrayed, and so he’s in a position now, where anybody speaking on behalf of the Church is probably lying. So, what I say today will not be of much value or interest except to make him mad.

But, I’m not really addressing him. I’m addressing people who might run into these things and are still puzzled by the charges that he makes. As I say, it’s a kind of compendium, not original at all…not really pretending to originality. It’s a compendium of charges and accusations. My impression—I will give you the bottom line–is that the author spent too little time and effort looking at these questions, that he “jumped ship” too soon, that there are answers, at least adequate, and in some cases really much more than adequate to just about every issue raised.

But I think of a case of my own youth in California. Some of you may remember a fairly obscure case that made it to the L.A. Times (as almost any anti-Mormon thing does), where three handwriting analysts had decided they had found…well, two of them had found, the writing of Solomon Spalding in the original manuscript of the Book of Mormon. It was an unidentified scribe. There was a family in my stake that left the Church that week over that issue. Now the whole thing blew up within a week. The handwriting analysts who had made the claim: one of them never really endorsed it, one of them went silent, and the third one absolutely said it was just not true. So, it didn’t make much of a splash really, but it was enough for this one family. They jumped ship too soon. It almost seemed as if they were poised at the door, waiting for a reason to leave. I didn’t know them that well. I don’t know what the story was, but let me read to you something that Jeff Lindsay had to say, sort of about this kind of thing, this motif of the letter. This is not the first one I’ve seen, and, it probably won’t be the last, where you get a whole “shotgun blast” of objections.

One of the challenges, Jeff Lindsay writes, in defending one’s faith, is coping with the critics who use the “big list” technique in their attack. 1 This involves throwing out numerous arguments to create the impression of an overwhelming barrage that decimates the faith in question. The “big list” is loaded with barbed questions that weren’t written in search of a real answer. If there is a good defense to the arguments raised at first…never mind, there are many more to be launched in different directions. As with many topics in fields like history, science and religion, the issues raised in “big list” attacks are often complex and may require exploring abundant details to answer questions properly.

Even for those who are prepared to answer questions on a wide variety of topics, the time it takes to lay a foundation to properly answer a question can be taken by the instantly impatient critics as an admission of weakness and confirmation that they are right, and then the time to move on to the next attack, and the next. If reasonable answers are promptly provided to some attacks, or if the alleged weakness on further examination actually proves to be evidence in favor of the faithful position, the response can be ignored as new attacks from the “big list” are hurled out.

Lindsay cites a well-known science blogger by the name of P.Z. Meyers, who is himself not religious at all. He is an aggressive atheist, but he makes a good point. Meyers says:

There is a common tactic used by creationists, and I’ve encountered it over and over again. It’s a form of the “Gish Gallop.” It’s named after Duane Gish, who’s a famous Creationist Fundamentalist Protestant. Present the wicked evolutionist with a long list of assertions, questions and non-sequiturs, and if they answer with, “I don’t know” to any of them, declare victory. It’s easy: We say, “I don’t know” a lot.

Jack Chick’s “Big Daddy” tract is a version of the Creationist list and contains a fair amount of fantasy as well. You know what they believe will happen: They’ll ask that one question that the scientists can’t answer, and then they’ll have an epiphany, a revelation, and realize that all of their science is a lie, at which time they’ll resign from their university position and join a good, Bible-believing church.

It happens to me all the time too. At one talk I gave, there was a woman at the door who had printed a five-page, single spaced list of questions, and she was telling everyone going in to ask me to answer them. I invited her to come in and listen to the talk and ask them herself, and she ran away. I’ve had a Canadian Creationist do the same thing, and then I talked to him for several hours in the hallway after the talk. He seemed stunned and angry that I actually had answers for most of his questions. I’ve been confronted by people with questions, more like ignorant assertions, about biology, who, once I answered them and revealed that I am a biologist, switched to asking me about geology and the “Big Bang” to get me into a corner where I would have to say, “I don’t know.”2

The approach, Jeff Lindsay says, is painfully familiar to him, and I have to say it’s painfully familiar to me too.

There have been some excellent responses. One of these is the FairMormon site, on the FairMormon wiki, and I have to say, I am tremendously impressed with the amount of work that the wiki has done (Roger Nicholson and Greg Smith, in particular) in developing answers and in making it accessible and in organizing answers to this and other objections. It’s a tremendous thing.

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FairMormon does incredible work on a shoestring budget. I mean, it’s astonishing, and with relatively little more (I’ll put in that plug, even though we have reached the fundraising goal for today), with just a little bit more, FairMormon could do much, much more, because it’s a very lean and efficient operation.

Kevin Christensen wrote a piece for Volume 10 of Interpreter (another organization that could use donations) entitled “Eye of the Beholder, Law of the Harvest”, which is an analysis of Jeff Lindsay’s approach and the author of the CES Letter’s approach, and explains how they arrive at so different conclusions to looking at the same data. I’ll mention other places for useful responses in a few minutes. 3

I’m going to go through a few of the issues. The thing is 90 pages long, and I’ve only got a few minutes. In fact, I have very few minutes. I’m going to try to get you out of here close to on time, but I don’t know if I can do it, to be honest.

DNA and the Book of Mormon

DNA and the Book of Mormon is one issue that he addresses. He says this,

[Letter to a CES Director] “DNA Analysis has concluded that native American Indians do not originate from the Middle East, or from Israelites, but rather from Asia.”

Now that is a grotesque oversimplification. He simply doesn’t know the state of the question. It is true that DNA evidence indicates that the American Indians overwhelmingly have some sort of Northeastern Asian background, but that does not rule out the presence of a small group. We’re talking a tiny group from the Middle East, 2600 years ago.

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This is another statement he makes:

[Letter to a CES Director] “Why did the Church change the following section of the introduction page of the 2006 edition of the Book of Mormon shortly after the DNA results were released?” Quote: “The Lamanites were the principal ancestors of the American Indians” is changed to, “The Lamanites, and they are among the ancestors of the American Indians.”

Well, the implication is “because the DNA evidence undercut the Church’s position.” That’s not true. I happen to know the backstory, which has never been published. The backstory is, there were people who objected to that heading when it was done in the late 1970s/early 1980s. They were overruled by someone who was in a position of authority. But, they said the Book of Mormon never actually makes that claim. Don’t make the Book of Mormon claim things it doesn’t actually claim. We set ourselves up sometimes for problems when we claim things for the book, but that the book, when carefully read, does not claim for itself.

Now, I’m going to use this as a symbol for the kind of work that’s being done right now, and has been done over the past few decades, on Book of Mormon archaeology. This is John Sorenson’s book, Mormon’s Codex. I’m not saying that it’s the “be all” and “end all,” but it kind of represents the effort that professionally-trained Mesoamericanists have made recently.

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Book of Mormon anachronisms

The second issue that he raises is the issue of anachronisms He says,

[Letter to a CES Director] “Horses, cattle, oxen, sheep, swine, goats, elephants, wheels, chariots, wheat, silk, steel, and iron did not exist in pre-Columbian America during Book of Mormon times.”

Again, this is an oversimplification. There’s been a lot written on these sorts of topics, and many of them by John Sorenson (one of the reasons I chose this image) [refers to Power Point slide]. But the author of the letter seems unaware of those things. He doesn’t engage them in any event. I can imagine somebody saying, “The evidence doesn’t persuade me,” but what bothers me is to suggest there is no evidence, there are no counterarguments; that bothers me, and that doesn’t, to me, show a serious engagement with the data.

Book of Mormon archaeology

The third item is archaeology:

[Letter to a CES Director] “There is absolutely no archaeological evidence to directly support the Book of Mormon or the Nephites/Lamanites who numbered in the millions.”

Note that word “directly.” Archaeology very often doesn’t “directly” support claims. You often have to draw inferences from the data. You know, the rocks in the foundations of buildings don’t speak for themselves usually, and there are relatively few inscriptions. I mean, even Jerusalem itself, we’ve known from tradition where it was located, but it was only relatively recently that an inscription was found actually identifying that city as Jerusalem. So, there are limits to archaeology. But again I mention John Sorenson, the writing of John Clark, Brant Gardner, Mark Wright. If the author of the letter has dealt with them there’s no sign of it. I don’t see any evidence that he’s engaged them.

He says this:

[Letter to a CES Director] “This is one of the reasons why unofficial apologists* are coming up with the Limited Geography Model. It happened in Central or South America, and that the real hill Cumorah is not in Palmyra, New York, but is elsewhere and possibly somewhere down there instead.”

* (That’s people like the old FARMS or FAIR now)

This is simply not true. The Limited Geography Model has been created because the Book of Mormon demands it. You can put together all the travel distances and travel times in the Book of Mormon and it’s very clear that they’re not going very far in any direction. We’re not talking about Patagonia to the Aleutian Islands. It’s simply not possible. And so, the text forces this. This sort of thing has been in the works for a long time, before there was any talk about DNA, before the discovery of the DNA double-helix model. DNA was not an issue when this was being created. This is not controversial. It can easily be shown that the limited Mesoamerican model has been in the works for decades. It just wasn’t published until the 1980s, but it existed and was distributed in a kind of underground form for a long time before it was actually published.

Another claim:

[Letter to a CES Director] “Latter-day Saint Thomas Stuart Ferguson was BYU’s archaeology division (New World Archaeological Funding) founder. NWAF was financed by the Church. NWAF and Ferguson were tasked by BYU and the Church in the 1950’s and 1960’s to find archaeological evidence to support the Book of Mormon.”

And the idea is, well, Ferguson failed and Ferguson lost his testimony, and this should discredit the Book of Mormon in the minds of alert, sentient Latter-day Saints. But that statement is wrong on multiple levels. Thomas Stuart Ferguson, for whatever virtues he had, was a lawyer and an amateur hobbyist. He was not the head of the archaeology program at BYU. And the NWAF (I’ve actually written an article on this),4 based on interviews with the founders and with early leaders, and so on, and it’s been published. I mean, there’s no excuse for this. NWAF had non-Mormons on its board. It was mostly non-Mormons. It was specifically forbidden to seek to do explicit Book of Mormon research. It was tasked with working in an area where Latter-day Saints expected it would find evidence, but it was not its task to do that. This is just completely wrong, and Ferguson’s apostasy, whatever it was, his family disputes it. I don’t know exactly what the truth of his mindset was at the end of his life. It may be sad, but it has no significance. And, at the same time, M. Wells Jakeman was an archaeologist, the first trained archaeologist, as far as I know, in the Church, who specialized in Mesoamerican studies. Why doesn’t anybody write about his biography? He was fascinated…believed to his dying day that the Book of Mormon fit into Mesoamerica brilliantly well.

Moving on. Here’s a picture of Wadi Sayq, an area in Arabia that I’m very fond of.

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One of the things I notice is that he never deals with positive evidence. It’s always criticisms. Wadi Sayq is one of my favorite evidences for the Book of Mormon. This is the place that a lot of us think was the land Bountiful, the Old World Bountiful, in the Book of Mormon. It’s an unexpected place. You don’t expect to see a place like that in Arabia. Arabia’s a land of sand dunes. You’ve seen “Lawrence of Arabia”; you know what it looks like. And those are the pretty parts. But this is an actual area on coast of the Indian Ocean, the Arabian Sea, really, and it exists in exactly the right spot. And we can show that the land of Nahom, or the area of Nahom, from which you have to travel due east, we can show that that name was there at exactly the time of Lehi. It’s a complex of finds. These things fit together. They’re really wonderfully strong things. No mention of them. Simply ignored. They just don’t exist.

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Does that look like what you picture as Arabia? It looks like Hawaii. But that is Wadi Sayq.

Book of Mormon geography

Alright, as soon as I saw this, I recognized it. It’s a map from a book done several years ago by Vernal Holley.

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This is his fourth objection: Book of Mormon Geography, and he uses Vernal Holley, who relied on the Solomon Spalding theory of the Book of Mormon, which has been exploded, detonated so many times that it’s exasperating to see it keep coming back. I’ve mentioned, I think, here before that Bill Hamblin and I have wanted to do a film that we call tentatively, “Bill and Dan’s Excellent Adventure in Anti-Mormon Zombie Hell.” The idea is that these just keep coming back. I mean, you shoot them between the eyes and they don’t stop because there’s no brain in there, right? And, to see the Spalding manuscript theory just keep coming and coming, but the methodological problems with Vernal Holley’s maps are multitudinous and we published an article in the old FARMS Review clear back at the very beginning in 1989 showing some of those problems. For one thing, he goes to a map of the northeastern United States. He goes through all the toponyms, the place names there, and then he tries to find things in the Book of Mormon that are vaguely familiar. They sound sort of the same, but some of them are really a stretch. Jacobsburg, well that’s Book of Mormon Jacobugath. Antioch, that’s Anti-Anti. My favorite, Sherebrook, which becomes the Book of Mormon Shurr. Well, they’re not very good parallels, but, the other thing is, they’re in the wrong places. The Book of Mormon says where they are. They’re not in the same relationships on the map. It’s just…you know, if you take a long enough list of place names, you’ll find parallels, especially if you’re “loosy-goosy” about it. You’ll find parallels with just about anything. This is easily done. I could show you words that definitely come from Arabic that occur in English, that have no relationship. They’re vaguely similar. They’re totally different definitions. If you have no standards for what counts as evidence, anything could count as evidence. Well, anyway, I don’t want to go on at length about that. There’s an excellent FairMormon response, a summation response, to Vernal Holley’s maps. Again, no notice of it.

View of the Hebrews as a source for the Book of Mormon

Item number five. He refers to View of the Hebrews. Ethan Smith’s, View of the Hebrews, which some critics see as a source for the Book of Mormon. We were so terrified of the View of the Hebrews at BYU that BYU actually published View of the Hebrews so people could see it. I mean, it’s just not similar at all. But there’s no engagement with that, no engagement with Larry Morris’s superb year 2000 BYU Studies article on “Oliver Cowdery’s Vermont Years and the Origins of Mormonism”, which shows that the link that people posit between Ethan Smith and Oliver Cowdery almost certainly didn’t exist.

The Late War as a source for the Book of Mormon

He then gets into, in item number six, The Late War, which has already been here. It’s a retelling of the War of 1812 in biblical style. No mention of Ben McGuire’s article in Interpreter Volume 7 from last year. Even in his revised version of the letter, I don’t think that there’s one – I may have missed it. I have to admit I had a hard time concentrating on the letter, but I didn’t see one. And now he’s going to have to deal with the presentation yesterday by Matt Roper and Paul Fields. There are just all sorts of problems.

Accuracy of Church art

Let’s go on a little bit further. Here’s an illustration: A traditional view of Joseph Smith translating the Book of Mormon.

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Now, there are several things wrong with it, and he points to this sort of thing and says this is Church deception. Joseph didn’t have the plates with him quite often, and here he is, following along with the text on the plates. Well, you know that’s not true, because the witnesses didn’t see the plates all the time, right? This can’t possibly be true. When the witnesses saw the plates it was a big deal for them, because Joseph wasn’t just sitting there translating with the plates in front of him all the time while people wandered around and so on. But he says, “Look, the Church is being deceptive”, because it doesn’t show Joseph with his face in the hat using the seer stones. Well, my response to this partly would be, “What in the world are you thinking of? Trying to derive doctrine from illustrations? Or expecting that illustrations are going to give you the accurate picture?”

Here’s another one: there Joseph has the curtain between him and the scribe. That’s also wrong. I’ll come back to that.

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This one is equally wrong. It’s not a sign of evil or deliberate conspiratorial intent. It’s just an indication that the illustrators often just don’t get it right.

And I’ll give you some other illustrations of that sort of thing. Look at this famous picture.

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All right? Now that’s Samuel the Lamanite on a Nephite wall. Are any walls like that described in the Book of Mormon? No. You have these simple things, and they’re considered quite a technical innovation at the time of Moroni, where he digs a trench, piles the mud up, puts a palisade of logs along the top. That’s it. They’re pretty low tech. There’s nothing like this. This is Cuzco or something. But this is hundreds of years after the Book of Mormon and probably nowhere near the Book of Mormon area, and some of you may have heard me say it before, after Samuel jumps off this Nephite wall you never hear about him again. The obvious reason is…he’s dead. He couldn’t survive that jump. But again, do you draw your understanding of the Book of Mormon from that image? Or, do you draw it from what the book actually says?

Now, artists typically don’t get things right, or quite often don’t get things right. I’ll tell you a quick story about this one. I hesitate to go on too long because I don’t have much time. This is a very famous illustration of the eight witnesses.

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I had a discussion online, years ago, with an ex-Mormon critic. Some of you know the name, Brent Metcalfe. And we were arguing back and forth about the existence of the plates. And he said that all of the experiences of the witnesses were visionary. They just imagined things. They were hallucinating. And I said…but the Eight Witnesses were really, really…it’s a matter of fact sort of experience: they go out in a clearing in the woods. There are the plates on a tree stump, they heft them and all this sort of thing, and he said, “There was no tree stump.” And we went back and forth and back and forth about this stupid tree stump. And I finally said, “Look, OK. I will grant you no tree stump if you will grant me the plates…because I don’t care about the tree stump.” But in the meantime, I wrote a letter to my friend Richard Anderson, whose name will come up again in a minute, if I have a minute, who I think is one of the great historians in the Church, and he’s the great authority on the witnesses. And I said, “Richard, help me. I cannot find a source indicating there’s a tree stump.” And he said, “Oh yeah, definitely there is, there is. I’ll get it back to you.” A few days later he calls and he says, “You know, I can’t find any mention of a tree stump.” And we finally both decided it was that stupid picture that gave us the idea. There’s actually no account that mentioned a tree stump. So, pictures can form your image, but you have to be careful you’re always controlling those images by looking at the actual data.

OK, now it’s not just the Mormons who do this sort of thing. Have any of you read, “Out of the Silent Planet” by C.S. Lewis? C.S. Lewis is a passion of mine. This is a great novel, first of the so-called Perelandra trilogy.

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Now, if you’ve read the story, you know that image on the cover, that’s the first cover of the novel when I bought it, that cover bears almost no relationship to the actual story. There’s nobody in a space suit in that. This looks like the surface of the moon or something. The story describes Mars, which is where it takes place, Malacandra, it’s called, in the novel, describing it very, very differently from that. So, this illustrator, I assume, hadn’t even read the book.

But here’s another one. This is The Flight of the Holy Family into Egypt.

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Now if you look at these pictures, and there are lots of them, it was a favorite topic for artists in a certain period. It’s amazing how they think Egypt looked or the route, say, between Bethlehem and Egypt. It is like going through Flanders. In some it’s like you have to cross the Swiss Alps. I guarantee you, the Sinai looks nothing like this. Anyway, they’re often dressed like Turks with turbans. Those things [are] just totally inaccurate, totally inaccurate.

Frankly, for that matter, some of you remember Ben Hur. Ben Hur is arrested in Jerusalem and he has to go to the galleys, right? Do you remember the scene? It’s a wonderful scene, very moving, where he’s going along…he’s dying of thirst, crossing sand dunes and so on, and he encounters the Savior, and the Savior gives him water to drink. My question, though, is, “If he’s been arrested in Jerusalem and he’s going to the sea, which is the Mediterranean, is he going via the Gobi Desert or something?” I mean, that’s actually one of the most fertile areas of Israel. You’re going along the plains of Sharon. It’s agricultural land, and it’s not very far. You wouldn’t die of thirst even if you walked that hardly without a drink at all. So people always assume…they set up these images of what the place looks like, but they’re wrong.

Translation of the Book of Mormon

OK, now this is not The Flight of the Holy Family into Egypt. This is Royal Skousen, and I want to say something about some things that I derive from Professor Skousen’s wonderful work on the textual history of the Book of Mormon, which are relevant to the question of Book of Mormon translation.

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I’m going to read a little bit here. Professor Royal Skousen of Brigham Young University, an internationally respected linguistic theorist, has devoted more than a quarter of a century to intensive study of the text of the Book of Mormon, and most especially to the original and printer’s manuscripts of the book. His work has appeared in large, handsomely produced volumes published by BYU’s Maxwell Institute for Religious Scholarship, Yale University Press, and now, to our delight and honor, the Interpreter Foundation. It’s Professor Skousen’s strongly considered opinion that the manuscript evidence supports the traditional account of the origin of the Book of Mormon, and that it does not support the notion that Joseph Smith composed the text himself, or took it from any other existing manuscript. Yet all the witnesses thought that Joseph Smith somehow saw words, and read them off to his scribes. Taken together, these two facts are highly significant.

Now I want to briefly examine some of the relevant data. First of all, the evidence strongly supports the traditional account in saying that the original manuscript was orally dictated. The kinds of errors that occur in the manuscript are clearly those that occur from a scribe mishearing, rather than from visually misreading, while copying from another manuscript. The printer’s manuscript, by contrast, shows precisely the types of anomalies that one would expect from a copyist’s errors. Skousen’s meticulous analysis even suggests that Joseph was working with up to about 30 words at a time. It’s apparent, too, that Joseph could see the spelling of names on whatever it was that he was reading from. When the scribe had written the text, he or she would evidently read it back to Joseph for correction. So, the Prophet seemingly had something with him from which he was dictating, and against which he could check what his scribes had written. But what was it? The witnesses are unanimous that he didn’t have any books, manuscripts or papers with him during the translation process, a process that involved lengthy periods of dictation. For example, in an interview with her son, Joseph Smith III, not long before she died, Emma Smith insisted that Joseph had no text with him during the time of translation.

Question: Had he not a book or manuscript from which he read or dictated to you?

Answer: He had neither manuscript nor book to read from.

Question: Could he not have had, and you not know it?

Answer: If he had had anything of the kind, he could not have concealed it from me.

“In writing for your father,” she told her son, “I frequently wrote day after day often sitting at the table close by him, he sitting with his face buried in his hat with the stone in it dictating hour after hour with nothing between us.” Note: Nothing between us, no curtain. “The plates often lay on the table without any attempt at concealment, wrapped in a small linen tablecloth which I had given to him to fold them in. I once felt of the plates as they lay thus on the table, tracing their outline and shape. They seemed to be pliable like thick paper, and would rustle with a metallic sound when edges were moved by the thumb, as one does sometimes thumb the edges of a book.”

Now, Emma Smith could speak authoritatively regarding the period during which she herself served as scribe, but what about the much longer period when it was Oliver Cowdery who was taking the dictation? In fact, Emma could speak from personal experience with respect to that time as well. While they were in Harmony, Pennsylvania, where most of the Book of Mormon text was committed to writing, Emma says that Joseph and Oliver were not far away from her.

“Question: Where did father and Oliver Cowdery write?”

“Answer: Oliver Cowdery and your father wrote in the room where I was at work.”

Not long after speaking with her, Joseph III wrote a letter in which he summarized some of her responses to his questions. “She wrote for Joseph Smith during the work of translation, as did also Reuben Hale, her brother, and O. Cowdery, that the larger part of this labor was done in her presence and where she could see and know what was being done, that during no part of it did Joseph Smith have any manuscript or book of any kind from which to dictate, except the metallic plates, which she knew he had. Nor, incidentally, did Emma believe that Joseph Smith was capable of inventing the Book of Mormon and dictating it off the top of his head. Joseph Smith,” she said, “could neither write nor dictate a coherent and well-worded letter,” her son’s note reported as telling him, “let alone dictating a book like the Book of Mormon.”

A correspondent from the Chicago Times interviewed David Whitmer on the 14th of October 1881, and got essentially the same account. “Mister Whitmer emphatically asserts, as did Harris and Cowdery, that while Smith was dictating the translation, he had no manuscript notes, or other means of knowledge, save the seer stone and the characters as shown on the plates, he being present and cognizant how it was done.” Similarly, the Saint Louis Republican, based upon an interview in mid-July of 1884, reported that “Father Whitmer, who was present very frequently during the writing of the manuscript of the Book of Mormon, affirms that Joseph Smith had no book or manuscript before him from which he could have read, as asserted by some that he did; he, Whitmer, having every opportunity to know whether Smith had Solomon Spalding’s or any other person’s romance to read from.”

David Whitmer repeatedly insisted that the translation process occurred in full view of Joseph Smith’s family and associates. It would appear, in fact, that the common image of a curtain hanging between the Prophet and his scribes, sometimes seen in illustrations as we saw here, of the story of the Book of Mormon, was not the usual modus operandi. There was indeed a curtain, at least in the latter stages of translation process, however that curtain was suspended not between the translator and his scribe, but near the front door of the Peter Whitmer home in order to prevent idle passers-by and gawkers from interfering with the work. In order to give privacy to the proceeding, a blanket…Well, I don’t think I need to quote this, it makes the point.

On another occasion Whitmer recalled, “I often sat by and heard them translate and write for hours together. Joseph never had a curtain drawn between him and his scribe while he was translating. He would place the director in his hat and then place his face in his hat so as to exclude the light, and then read the words as they appeared before him.”

And there’s more evidence that Joseph was not simply reading from a manuscript. Here’s a quotation from David Whitmer again.

“He could not translate unless he was humble and possessed the right feelings towards everyone. To illustrate, so you can see, one morning when he was getting ready to continue the translation, something went wrong about the house and he was put out about it, something that Emma, his wife, had done. Oliver and I went upstairs, and Joseph came up soon after to continue the translation, but he couldn’t do anything. He could not translate a single syllable. He went downstairs out into the orchard and made supplication to the Lord…”

Something he liked to do. He liked to pray in groves of trees. He does it again here. It’s a characteristic.

“…He made some supplication, was gone about an hour, came back to the house, asked Emma’s forgiveness and then came upstairs where we were and the translation went on all right. He could do nothing save he was humble and faithful.” 5

And there are other accounts where Whitmer tells the same story to newspapers. It would seem from this anecdote that Joseph needed to be in some way spiritually or emotionally ready for the translation process to proceed, something that would be wholly unnecessary if he had simply been reading from a prepared manuscript. As David Whitmer explained, Joseph occasionally “found he was spiritually blind and then could not translate. He told us that his mind dwelt too much on earthly things, and various causes could make him incapable of proceeding.” Now at this point a skeptic might, of course, suggest, that emotional distractions interfered with Joseph Smith’s ability to remember a text he had memorized right the night before for dictation to his naive secretaries, or that personal upheavals hindered his improvising of an original text for them to write down as it occurred to him. But such potential counter-explanations run into their own serious difficulties. I just want to ask, do you even think it’s remotely possible? I don’t. To imagine Joseph Smith, or anyone else, memorizing or composing nearly 5000 words daily, day after day, week after week, in the production of a lengthy and complex book. That’s a question you can ponder for yourselves. I’ll simply say that, as someone who writes a lot, and rapidly, and has kept a daily record of how many words I produce each day for many of the past 15 years, I’ve never come close to maintaining a pace like this, even on a computer. I just find it impossible to imagine.

Now, there’s another story. I think I’ll skip it in order to save some time. Well, you know the story about Martin Harris substituting a rock for the seer stone, and Joseph comes in and tries to use it and can’t. He says, “Martin, everything is as dark as Egypt.” I’ve often wondered having lived in Egypt, where it is blazing sun all the time, what on earth does that mean? But, anyway, I guess this is the general point, the point being here that if he just memorized it he wouldn’t have even noticed what was wrong with this rock.

I don’t know how the rock worked, but it’s clear from a careful analysis of the manuscript that Joseph did not know in advance what the text was going to say. He hadn’t memorized it. He was not making it up because he didn’t know what was going to be there. Chapter breaks and book divisions apparently surprised him. He would see some indications, evidently, of a break in the text. In each case he would tell his scribe to write “chapter.” The numbers were then added later. For instance, at what we now recognize as the end of First Nephi the original manuscript first indicates merely that a new chapter is about to begin. In the original chapter divisions that upcoming text was marked as “Chapter 8” (Roman numerals). When Joseph and Oliver subsequently discovered that they were instead at the opening of a wholly distinct book, Second Nephi, the chapter heading was crossed out, and a more appropriate heading was inserted. This is quite instructive. It indicates that Joseph could only see the end of a section, but did not know whether the next section would be another portion of the same book, or rather the commencement of an entirely new book altogether.

There were other things that, again, I’m going to summarize because I’m short on time. There are other things that caught him by surprise. He couldn’t pronounce the names in some cases. He would have to spell them out. Or there are times when he asked a question, like, “Emma, did Jerusalem have a wall around it?” He’s surprised. And she says, “Well, yes, I think it did,” and he says, “Oh, good. I thought maybe that I was being deceived.” Because the cities he knew, Palmyra, didn’t have walls around them, certainly not like Arnold Frieburg’s.

Here’s the bottom line: thus we see that Joseph Smith appears to have been reading from something external to himself, but that he had no book, or manuscript or paper with him. It seems to have been a text that was new and strange to him and one that required a certain emotional and mental focus before it could be read. It also seems to have required the exclusion of circumambient light so he could see it more clearly because he was doing this multiple hours a day like looking at a computer screen. Your eyes begin to give out, especially if there’s a glare behind the computer. People typically don’t put a computer up against a plate glass window where the sun is shining, right, because you want to see it more clearly. He had to be in mental or emotional focus to be able to work on it and so on. All this is entirely consistent with Joseph’s claim that he was deriving the text by revelation by the power of God through an interpreting device, but does this seem reconcilable with the idea that he smuggled in the Spalding manuscript or something like that?

The First Vision

Here’s another issue: The First Vision.

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All sorts of criticism in the Letter to a CES Director about the First Vision accounts, but there’s no serious engagement with people who have responded to the issues. No serious engagement with Jack Welch’s work on the topic, or the earlier work of Milt Backman, Richard Lloyd Anderson or Richard Bushman, for example. No sign of it.

Book of Abraham Facsimile 1

Here’s one I want to spend a little more time on. There’s Book of Abraham Facsimile 1.

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This is the ninth objection that I’ve chosen to look at.

[Letter to a CES Director] “Of all of the issues, the Book of Abraham is the issue that has both fascinated and disturbed me the most. It is the issue that I’ve spent the most time researching, because it offers real insight into Joseph’s modus operandi, as well as Joseph’s claim of being a translator. It is the smoking gun that has completely obliterated my testimony of Joseph Smith and his claims.”

Now I wrote an article years ago. I can’t claim it was original. I did it as kind of a collective statement on behalf of people that were associated with me at what became the Maxwell Institute/FARMS called News from Antiquity. It published in January 1994 in the Ensign, where I laid out kind of a consensus view of things about the ancient world that the Book of Abraham gets right. There’s no notice of that. It’s not only authorial pride; I’m just irritated that the issue is not addressed. But, he goes on to say things like this: “The Book of Abraham teaches a Newtonian view of the universe. Its Newtonian astronomy concepts, mechanics, and models of the universe have been discredited by 20th century Einsteinian physics.” Now, that irritated me too because John Gee, and Bill Hamblin, and I wrote a piece a number of years ago published in a volume by the Maxwell Institute in which we argued that the Book of Abraham makes sense not as Newtonian physics, but as a geocentric model of the cosmos. It is, in our view anyway, not Newtonian physics. But that article, even if you think it’s wrong, is not even noticed. It’s just this naive idea that it’s representing the kind of physics that Joseph Smith would have known in the 19th century and therefore it discredits Joseph. But the Book of Abraham actually works really well as a kind of primitive geocentric astronomy, the kind that you might have understood in Egypt, the kind that would have been comprehensible to Abraham at that period. It has the earmarks of antiquity on it, to me.

The letter goes on to say this, speaking of Joseph Smith:

[Letter to a CES Director] “He names gods that are not part of the Egyptian belief system, of any known mythology or belief system.” “Joseph Smith got everything wrong about the papyri, the facsimiles, the names, the gods….it’s gibberish.”

Now, the Book of Abraham is anything but gibberish. I mean, just try reading it. It’s not gibberish. It’s a very impressive little book. It’s not true the names of the gods cannot be connected at all with the ancient Near East. There are several articles on this showing plausible identities for those gods, but I want to look more closely at one particular case.

This is an image of the syncretized god Sobek-ra, the crocodile god of the middle kingdom, with Pharaoh Amenhotep III. It’s a larger than life-sized statue.

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Some of you may have been in Luxor, Egypt. It stands right in the entry lobby of the museum there in Luxor. One noteworthy element of the religious situation portrayed in the Book of Abraham is the identification of a crocodile as the idolatrous god of Pharaoh, right there underneath the lion couch. That’s a kind of an odd thing to come up with if you’re a yokel farm-boy from upstate New York. Is that the first thing that comes to your mind? “Oh, idolatrous god of Pharaoh!”

Although this may have seemed strange in Joseph Smith’s day, discoveries in other ancient texts confirm this representation. Unas or Wenis, for example, was the last king of the fifth dynasty, around 2300 B.C., and his pyramid still stands at Saqqara, south of modern Cairo. Utterance 317, Unas’ pyramid texts, includes the following: “The king appears as the crocodile god Sobek, and Unas has come today from the overflowing flood. Unas is Sobek, green plumed, wakeful, alert….Unas arises as Sobek, son of Neith. One scholar observes that “the god Sobek is … viewed as a manifestation of Horus, the god most closely identified with the kingship of Egypt” during the Egyptian Middle Kingdom era (around 2000 B.C., maybe a little later), which includes the time period that tradition indicates is Abraham’s time.

Intriguingly, Middle Kingdom Egypt saw a great deal of activity in the large oasis to the southwest of modern Cairo known as the Faiyum. Crocodiles were common there. You know what the name of the place was to the Greeks? The major town there was called “Crocodileopolis.”

Does that give you a clue? Crocodiles were common there and Sobek was the chief local deity. The [wife of the] last king of the 12th Dynasty, which may include the period of Abraham’s life, even adopted the name of the crocodile god, calling [herself] Nefru-Sobek6 (“Beautiful is Sobek”). And five pharaohs of the next dynasty, the 13th, took the name Sebek-hotpe (“Sobek is content”).7

He got everything wrong about the facsimiles, right? That’s just not true.

Polygamy

Polygamy is a big issue for the Letter to a CES Director too, but what’s noteworthy to me is the things that are not engaged. And I just mention a couple of recent things, but these represent work that’s been done over the past decade or so on polygamy. This is a book by Newell Bringhurst and Craig Foster called Persistence of Polygamy.

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At least three of the essays in that particular volume are directly relevant to charges made in the letter, but it doesn’t address them. Here are the three volumes of Brian Hales’ massive work on Joseph Smith’s polygamy, again, essentially unaddressed.

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Here’s the website that Brian and Laura Hales are now doing where a lot of these issues are discussed [josephsmithspolygamy.org]. No engagement with this or with anything, as far as I can see, that they put forward.

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Witnesses to the Book of Mormon

The author of the letter then attacks the witnesses. And one of the things that is now done, the newly fashionable way of addressing the witnesses is to say, “Well, these were primitive people, you know, of a different era. They really couldn’t distinguish reality from fantasy.” And so, there was an article that Richard Lloyd Anderson wrote for the old Journal of Book of Mormon Studies.

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I confess, I was the one who provoked him into doing it. I pestered him and pestered him and pestered him for about two years, because I thought this article was necessary: “Attempts to Redefine the Experience of the Eight Witnesses.” The eight witnesses were explicit in many cases. They held the plates. They saw them. Hyrum Smith said, “With these eyes… I held them with these hands.” And then I hear people say, “Well, they never really claimed to see them with their natural eyes.” What? What more could they say? It’s like they’re directly addressing these critics today. But those sorts of statements are ignored in favor of often second- and third- and fourth-hand statements suggesting they never actually saw or touched the plates at all.

This is what he says, the author of the letter:

[Letter to a CES Director] “The mistake that is made by 21st century Mormons is that they’re seeing the Book of Mormon Witnesses as empirical, rational, nineteenth-century men instead of the nineteenth-century magical-thinking superstitious and treasure-digging men they were.”

I confess, as somebody who has spent a lot of time, much of my life, looking at people from pre-modern periods, that the sheer condescension of this, the chronological smugness and complacency of that statement irritates me, and not merely because I’m a believing Latter-day Saint. It’s rather like someone to ascribe early Christian belief in the resurrection of Jesus to the supposed fact that ancient people, unlike us, hadn’t yet realized that dead people tend to stay dead, which, if it were true at all, would leave us wondering why they thought the resurrection of Jesus was such a big deal. Happens all the time, right?

But recently the preferred method of dealing with the witnesses is simply to say they are primitive and superstitious and so on. But, here’s a paragraph I wrote some years ago, a couple of paragraphs, and I’m going to read them because I’m fond of them. Some of you may have heard it before, but I think the point needs to be made:

It seems implausible to assume that the witnesses, early nineteenth-century farmers who spent their lives rising at sunrise, pulling up stumps, clearing rocks, plowing fields, sowing seeds, carefully nurturing crops, herding livestock, milking cows, digging wells, building cabins, raising barns, harvesting food, bartering, in an often cashless economy, for what they could not produce themselves, wearing clothes made from plant fibers and skins, anxiously watching the seasons, and walking or riding animals out under the weather until they retired to their beds shortly after sunset in “a world lit only by fire,” that they were estranged from everyday reality.

It’s especially unbelievable when the claim is made by people whose lives, like mine, consist to a large extent of staring at digital screens in artificially air-conditioned and artificially lit homes and offices, clothed in synthetic fibers, commuting between the two in enclosed and air-conditioned mechanical vehicles while they listen to the radio, chat on their cell phones, and fiddle with their iPods, whose inner workings are largely mysterious to them, who buy their prepackaged food (with little or no regard for the time or the season) by means of plastic cards and electronic financial transfers from artificially illuminated and air-conditioned supermarkets enmeshed in international distribution networks of which they know virtually nothing, the rhythms of whose daily lives are largely unaffected by the rising and setting of the sun. Somehow the current generation seems ill-positioned to accuse the witnesses’ generation of being out of touch with reality.8

And, I think of Martin Harris with the plates, at one point, before he is actually a witness, sitting on his lap in a box. He hasn’t seen them, but he can feel them. You know, rocks are heavy, but lead is heavier, right? And gold is heavy. And sometimes, the box is just too small to be full of rocks. It wouldn’t be as heavy as it was, and he said, he was sitting there thinking this is really heavy and I knew that they had to be either lead or gold, and I knew that Joseph didn’t have enough credit to get so much lead. I’ve always thought that was a funny comment. Yeah, so it’s obviously gold. Well, as a matter of fact, it was. But that scarcely seems mystical or estranged from reality to me.

And then you have the Smith women feeling the plates, hearing them rustle against one another. These are not mystical visionary experiences. This is matter-of-fact stuff. They are cleaning the house; they have to move the darn plates. They’re 60 pounds. I’m very impressed with the witnesses. They cannot be brushed aside as easily as all that.

James Strang and the Strangite witnesses

Here’s a picture of James Jesse Strang.

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The author of the letter brings up the Strangite witnesses and says basically they are the same kind of thing that Joseph had. I’m just going to summarize what I have written here in order to go through it more quickly. The Strangite witnesses never claim a supernatural experience, several of them apostatized, several of them said, “You know, it looked to me like Strang probably made them.” No one doubts they existed. The question is where did they come from? He put them on display and people looked at them and they said, “It looks like the kind of stuff you make a teapot out of.” This is probably what it was. These are not very impressive witness testimonies, and it took Strang ten years to produce his book. Joseph dictated his in two months. I mean, at every point the contrast works in Joseph Smith’s favor, it seems to me.

Other issues

Ok, well, the letter goes on, and on, and on, and on, and on, and on. Everything is thrown in: The Paul Dunn story, the Salamander Letter, Church finances, the September Six. The author dislikes the temple, thinks it’s silly.

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Well, I wonder: OK, is that the attitude before deconversion? That would be interesting. Or is that the attitude afterwards? In which case, well, that says something too. But frankly, to be honest, I ran out of patience. Ninety pages – it was boring as could be. So, I want to recommend some things. I don’t like just playing defense, so I want to be really quick and some of you have heard me say this before. I’m going to keep beating this drum because I see casualties all the time.

Affirmative things rather than negative things

It is not enough to simply play defense. If you’re playing a football game and your defense is always on the field, you’re probably going to lose. They might occasionally get an interception or a fumble, and score, but probably you’re going to lose. Likewise, a metaphor I heard the other night from John Lynch was that we are often trying to fill in the holes experienced in testimony. Well, if we fill them in, we just bring them back up to normal ground level. That’s not enough. We want to build things up. There are lots of metaphors you could use. If we’re always just putting out fires, you’re going to miss one. You know, eventually you’re going to miss a fire. So, build conditions where the fires don’t happen. Soak your lawn.

So I would rather do affirmative things than just negative things, and I’m going to very quickly go through a few recommendations here. For example, I’ve mentioned Richard Anderson before: Investigating the Book of Mormon Witnesses.

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This is, to my mind, one of the great books ever published in Mormonism. Now, that’s not the only thing he wrote on the witnesses, but it will stand in for the other things. A friend of mine once sat down beside me while I was surreptitiously sitting at the back of a Gospel Doctrine class re-reading that book. And he sat down next to me, he teaches Religious Ed. at BYU and he said, “You know, next to the scriptures, that is the most faith-promoting book I’ve ever read.” Well, it is an impressive book, and Richard Anderson has worked hard on the witnesses and has shown that they are sane, stable, reasonable, reputable, respected, consistent, honest people. And that counts for a huge amount. Not just that book, as I say, but other things.

Another book: “Opening the Heavens,” by John W. Welch.

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It deals with six issues basically. The First Vision, the coming forth of the Book of Mormon, the restoration of the priesthood, Joseph Smith’s visionary experiences generally, the restoration of temple keys, and finally the succession in the presidency, notably that transfiguration of Brigham Young in Nauvoo. It is a deeply faith-promoting book, particularly on issues like the First Vision and so on. I highly recommend it. I wish people in the Church would read these. When people come to me and say “I know someone who’s losing a testimony,” or “I’m having trouble,” I would say, “Would you read these? We’ll deal with your specific objections, but read these.” This is a kind of general packet I suggest to people.

Here’s another one, and I could probably come up with others, but these occur to me. Mark McConkie’s book, “Remembering Joseph”, is a huge compilation of eyewitness accounts of Joseph, not all of them on issues related to his veracity, but many of them that do relate to that, and it includes a CD that includes 2000 pages of material that he couldn’t cram into this. It’s a tremendous collection, and the stories that are told, clearly to me, strongly indicate the credibility of Joseph.

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And another: “Understanding the Book of Mormon,” Grant Hardy’s book from Oxford University Press, written for a non-LDS audience.

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He is not arguing for the truthfulness of the Book of Mormon, but to me it makes a powerful argument for just that. His argument is, with really meticulous analysis, that Nephi, Mormon and Moroni are distinct personalities who have different approaches to what they’re writing, different philosophies of history, different views of the universe in a way. Now, to me, the most economical explanation of that is they are three different personalities. They are consistently different. How do you explain that? That doesn’t come from Solomon Spalding. It doesn’t come, I think, from Joseph Smith as “yokel” dictating it on the fly, eight and a half to eleven pages of the printed edition daily. Rapid, rapid pace. That’s a book that I recommend, a little more difficult than the others, but to me it makes a powerful, powerful case.

And I’ll just toss in this other one to stand for all the kind of work that was done by the…by at least the “old FARMS”, the old Maxwell Institute, in arguing for the ties of the Book of Mormon in striking ways to the ancient Near East, to ancient Mesoamerica and so on. Things that, in my mind, are rather difficult to explain away, and there are lots and lots and lots of them…well over a hundred distinct arguments that you could make. I think that that needs to be summarized even more concisely than what we have there, but that’s a good starting point.

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Let me make just a couple more points and then I’ll try to shut up. I think that much is dependent on the attitude that we bring to things. These four books I recommend, but I know people that can read them and just brush them aside, especially if you’ve heard something negative about Joseph Smith and the Church. But, I think when people come to me, and they’ll sometimes say….Well, let’s put it this way. Suppose one day you hear a shockingly negative report about someone. What effect will the report have upon your opinion of that person? Well, phrased in such a way the question is essentially unanswerable. Why? Because it matters very, very much whether you had any prior experience with that person – what kind of experience it’s been. Suppose the report is the first thing you’ve ever heard about the person. Well, then that constitutes essentially 100% of what you know, right? And so, if it’s a really negative report your initial inclination is to think it’s a really bad person. What if it’s a person about whom you’ve heard really bad things? It doesn’t change your view fundamentally, but it reinforces. What if it’s a person, though, that you’ve known for forty years? You’ve known him really well. You’ve trusted him. He’s always been reliable and a person of integrity. You hear this report. You’re going to be much more inclined to give him the benefit of the doubt, and to say, “You know, I’d really like to hear what he has to say.” I’d say the same thing about Joseph Smith. If you have a strong opinion about Joseph Smith, or of the Book of Mormon, it’s going to take a lot more to overturn that favorable opinion than if you know almost nothing, or if you have a negative opinion, or, for some reason, as I think happened in the case of the “Letter to a CES Director,” you’ve come to have a mistrustful attitude. Then almost nothing can be allowed to count. It really matters what you bring to the question with you.

There’s a nice image of Joseph Smith. Some of you will recognize, if you’re my generation, from the old Brigham Young movie. Vincent Price, of all people, portraying Joseph Smith. But I think those four books, to my mind, it would help to create that positive attitude.

What do non-Mormon scholars have to say about Joseph Smith?

I’ll just say this, and I’ll have done. I don’t object to the attempt in the Letter to a CES Director to subject the claims of Mormonism to reasoned examination. I just don’t think the effort went nearly far or deep enough.

An adequate examination of Mormonism should take into account the fact, noted by the great German social theorist Max Weber, that Joseph Smith “resembled, even in matters of detail, Muhammad and, above all, the Jewish prophets.”

It should explain the non-Mormon Old Testament scholar Lester Grabbe’s contention that an understanding of Joseph Smith can shed valuable light on prophecy in ancient Israel.

It should make at least an attempt to deal with the amazement of the Finnish Lutheran scholar Heikki Räisänen expressed in an article published some years ago in the Theologische Lituraturzeitung (a commonly read magazine around these parts) at the uncanny way in which Joseph Smith hit upon salient issues and problems in ancient scriptural texts and moved to resolve them.

It should engage with the Catholic philosopher Stephen Webb’s admiration, in his 2013 Oxford University Press book Mormon Christianity: What Other Christians Can Learn from the Latter-day Saints, for the materialistic metaphysics of Mormon thought. Professor Webb argues that the idea of a permanently embodied Christ, and an embodied God, has a great deal to offer the wider Christian world.

“One can think what one wants,” wrote the late German ecclesiastical historian Ernst Benz, “of the doctrine of progressive deification in Mormonism. But one thing is certain: With this anthropology, Joseph Smith is closer to the view of Man held by the ancient church than the precursors of the Augustinian doctrine of the Original Sin were, who considered the thought of such a substantial connection between God and Man as the heresy par excellence.”

In the examination of Joseph Smith that’s going to be fair, [one] should confront the admiration of the Yale University literary scholar Harold Bloom for Joseph Smith. “Other Americans have been religious makers,” wrote Bloom, “but none of them has the imaginative vitality of Joseph Smith’s revelation. A judgment one makes on the authority of a lifetime spent in apprehending the visions of great poets and original speculators. So self-created was he that he transcends Emerson and Whitman in my imaginative response and takes his place with the great figures of our fiction. So strong was Joseph’s act of reading the Bible,” Bloom says, “that it broke through all the orthodoxies and found its way back to elements that Smith rightly intuited that had been censored out of the stories of the archaic Jewish religion.”

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The shallow con artist implied by the Letter to a CES Director doesn’t seem even remotely adequate or worthy of such comments from respected, even eminent, non-Mormon scholars, which is much more a reflection on the Letter than on Joseph Smith.

And what of Joseph’s teaching on exaltation? Listen to what the Dominican Catholic priest Jordan Vajda has to say at the end of his 1998 thesis at the Graduate Theological Union in Berkeley: “What has resulted from taking another look at The God Makers? The Mormons are truly god makers, as the doctrine of exaltation explains. The fullness of human salvation means becoming a god, yet, what was meant to be a term of ridicule has turned out to be a term of approbation, for the witness of the Greek Fathers of the Church is that they also believe that salvation meant becoming a god. It seems that if one’s soteriology cannot accommodate a doctrine of human divinization, then he has, at least implicitly, if not explicitly, rejected the heritage of the early Christian Church and departed from the faith of first millennium Christianity. However, if that is the case, those that would espouse such a soteriology also believe, in fact, that Christianity from about the second century on has apostatized and gotten it wrong on this core issue of human salvation. Thus ironically, those who would excoriate Mormons for believing the doctrine of exaltation actually agree with them that the early Church experienced a great apostasy on fundamental questions. And the supreme irony is that such persons should probably investigate the claims of the LDS Church,” (this coming from a Catholic priest), “which proclaims that from within itself can be found the restoration of all things.”

Well, for this, and many other reasons, those who have been led by the Letter to a CES Director to abandon their faith, should, in my view, reconsider those Mormon claims and the abundant historical support that’s available for them. They simply haven’t studied enough.

Thank you.

———

Notes

1 Jeff Lindsay, Coping with the “Big List” of Attacks on the LDS Faith, FairMormon Blog (20 May 2014)
2 PZ Myers, “No! Not the list of stumpers again!”, ScienceBlogs (9 April 2014)
3 Kevin Christensen, “Eye of the Beholder, Law of the Harvest: Observations on the Inevitable Consequences of the Different Investigative Approaches of Jeremy Runnells and Jeff Lindsay,” Interpreter: A Journal of Mormon Scripture 10 (2014): 175-238.
4 Daniel C. Peterson, “On the New World Archaeological Foundation,” The FARMS Review 16/1 (2004). See also Daniel C. Peterson and Matthew Roper, “Ein Heldenleben? On Thomas Stuart Ferguson as an Elias for Cultural Mormons,” The FARMS Review 16/1 (2004).
5 B.H. Roberts, Defense of the Faith and the Saints Vol. 1 (1907) 261-262.
6 Editor’s note: In Daniel C. Peterson’s original talk and in the original Ensign article, Nefru-Sobek was said to be the king when in reality she was the queen. The error has been corrected in this transcript.
7 Daniel C. Peterson, “News from Antiquity,” Ensign (January 1994)
8 Daniel C. Peterson, “Book of Mormon witness testimonies. Reality: Brushing aside accounts of these men is not so simple,” Deseret News (25 March 2010).

Of ‘Mormon Studies’ and Apologetics

Daniel C. Peterson

Founded in California in 1979 by Jack Welch, FARMS, or the Foundation for Ancient Research and Mormon Studies, became part of Brigham Young University in 1997.

It did so at the invitation of President Gordon B. Hinckley, who remarked at the time that “FARMS represents the efforts of sincere and dedicated scholars. It has grown to provide strong support and defense of the Church on a professional basis. I wish to express my strong congratulations and appreciation for those who started this effort and who have shepherded it to this point.”

Plainly, FARMS had gained a reputation for doing apologetics, though it must be said that apologetics was never its sole focus. It has always fostered scholarship that cannot plausibly be characterized as apologetic; Professor Royal Skousen’s meticulous, landmark work on the text and textual history of the Book of Mormon is perhaps the most notable example of such scholarship, but it’s far from alone.

Our official motto, though, was drawn from Doctrine and Covenants 88:118: “By study and also by faith.”

In his essay “Advice to Christian Philosophers,” Alvin Plantinga of the University of Notre Dame, indisputably among the preeminent Christian philosophers of our time, argued that “we who are Christians and propose to be philosophers must not rest content with being philosophers who happen, incidentally, to be Christians; we must strive to be Christian philosophers.”1 Elder Neal A. Maxwell exhorted Latter-day Saint academics in much the same spirit: “The LDS scholar has his citizenship in the Kingdom,” he said, “but carries his passport into the professional world—not the other way around.”

However inadequately, we who were affiliated with FARMS from its early years tried to work and to act in that spirit.

In 2006, much to our delight and (though we had requested the change) to our surprise, the organization was rechristened as the Neal A. Maxwell Institute for Religious Scholarship. He had always been an enthusiastic supporter of our work and personally interested in it; his passing, two years before, had saddened us, and others, enormously.

At the dinner during which the new name was formally announced, President Boyd K. Packer, of the Quorum of the Twelve praised two specific aspects of the Institute’s work: the Islamic Translation Series and the Institute’s defense of the Kingdom. It was very much in the spirit of Elder Maxwell himself, who wanted to permit critics of the Church “no more uncontested slam dunks.”

As recently as 21 April 2010, the Maxwell Institute’s Mission Statement positioned the organization as “Describ[ing] and defend[ing] the Restoration through highest quality scholarship” and “Provid[ing] an anchor of faith in a sea of LDS Studies.”2

In a posthumous tribute to his friend C. S. Lewis, the English philosopher and theologian Austin Farrer wrote a passage that became a favorite of Elder Maxwell’s, and that Elder Maxwell used on several public occasions. It also served for many years as a kind of unofficial motto for several of us who were involved with, first, FARMS and, then, its successor organization, the Maxwell Institute:

Though argument does not create conviction, lack of it destroys belief. What seems to be proved may not be embraced; but what no one shows the ability to defend is quickly abandoned. Rational argument does not create belief, but it maintains a climate in which belief may flourish.3

In referring to such “argument,” Austin Farrer had in mind what is typically called—very commonly among Catholics and Evangelicals, though far less commonly among Latter-day Saints—apologetics.

Derived from the Greek word απολογία (“speaking in defense”) apologetics is the practice or discipline of defending a position (usually, but not always, a religious one) through the use of some combination or other of evidence and reason. In modern English, those who are known for defending their positions (often minority views) against criticism or attack are frequently termed apologists.4 In my remarks today, I’ll be using the word apologetics to refer to attempts to prove or defend religious claims. But the fact is that every argument defending any position, even a criticism of Latter-day Saint apologetics, is an apology. “By itself, ‘apologist’ does not tell whether the cause is noble or disreputable.”5

Some people turn their noses up at the thought of apologetics. As Richard Lloyd Anderson notes, being called an “apologist” is commonly “a put-down, meaning one who trashes truth.”6 “‘Apologetics,'” writes Paul J. Griffiths, currently Warren Professor of Catholic Thought at the Divinity School of Duke University,

has . . . become a term laden with negative connotations: to be an apologist for the truth of one religious claim or set of claims over against another is, in certain circles, seen as not far short of being a racist. And the term has passed into popular currency, to the extent that it has, as a simple label for argument in the service of a predetermined orthodoxy, argument concerned not to demonstrate but to convince, and, if conviction should fail, to browbeat into submission.7

“In almost all mainstream institutions in which theology is taught in the USA and Europe,” Griffiths reports,

apologetics as an intellectual discipline does not figure prominently in the curriculum. You will look for it in vain in the catalogues of the Divinity Schools at Harvard or Chicago; liberal Protestants have never been wedded to the practice of interreligious apologetics, and while the Roman Catholic Church has a long and honorable tradition of apologetics, interreligious and other, its approach to theological thinking about non-Christian religious communities has moved far from the apologetical since the Second Vatican Council, and especially since the promulgation of the conciliar document Nostra Aetate.8

Apologists, some critics declare, are not concerned with truth; what apologists do isn’t real scholarship, and anyhow, as one hostile Internet apostate put it, apologetics is “a fundamentally unethical and immoral enterprise.” Or, alternatively, in the words of another anonymous Internet ex-Mormon, “Each of us is either a man or woman of faith or of reason. . . . All apologetics is, is faux logic, faux reason designed to lure the wonderer back into the fold. Those of faith are threatened by defectors to reason.” “Apologists,” he continued in a subsequent post,

try to shill an explanation to questioning members as though science and reason really explain and buttress their professed faith. It [sic] does not. By definition, faith is the antithesis of science and reason. Apologetics is a further deception by faith peddlers to keep power and influence.

I’m willing to wager, by the way, that although these critics want believers to stop responding, they do not intend to stop criticizing. There is no question that any team will score more easily if the opposing team’s defensive players leave the field, but I’m unaware of any athlete with the chutzpah to make the request.

But this attitude seems, anyway, to reflect a fundamental misunderstanding—like any other form of intellectual enterprise, apologetics can be done competently or incompetently, logically or illogically, honestly or not—and it certainly ignores the venerable tradition of apologetics, which has enlisted some very notable writers, scholars, and thinkers (e.g., Socrates/Plato, St. Justin Martyr, Origen of Alexandria, St. Augustine, al-Ghazālī, Ibn Rushd [Averroës], Moses Maimonides, St. Anselm, St. Thomas Aquinas, Hugo Grotius, John Locke, John Henry Newman, G. K. Chesterton, Ronald Knox, C. S. Lewis, Dorothy Sayers, Richard Swinburne, Alvin Plantinga, Peter Kreeft, Stephen Davis, N. T. Wright, and William Lane Craig). It’s dubious (at best) to summarily dismiss these people or their apologetic writings as “fundamentally unethical and immoral” and flatly irrational. Within the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, although the term has rarely been used, there has been apologetic activity from the very beginning. (The brothers Parley and Orson Pratt, Oliver Cowdery, Orson Spencer, John Taylor, B. H. Roberts, and Hugh Nibley represent some of the high points.)

Still, a few faithful members of the church profess to disdain apologetics as well.

Some, for instance, seem to believe it inherently evil. They appear to use the word apologetics to mean “trying to defend the church but doing so badly,” whether through incompetence, dishonesty, or mean-spiritedness. But, again, apologetics, as such, is a value-neutral term. Just like historical writing, carpentry, and cooking, apologetics can be done well or poorly. Apologists, like attorneys and scientists and field laborers, can be pleasant or unpleasant, humble or arrogant, honest or dishonest, fair or unfair, civil and polite, or nasty and insulting.

The very recent decision by the current leadership of the Maxwell Institute to forego explicit defense and advocacy of Mormonism—to renounce explicit apologetics—may have been influenced by concerns about the arrogant mean-spiritedness of one or two of those most prominently associated with its apologetic side. But, from what I can tell—and I’ll freely admit that I and others have found explanations of the Institute’s announced “new course” somewhat inscrutable—it seems certain that the principal factor was a desire to become more purely “academic,” and to reconceive its audience as not merely including professional scholars but as primarily if not exclusively comprised of full-time academics and academic libraries.

Whereas, much earlier, FARMS had been encouraged by a prominent Church leader not to forget “the Relief Society sister in Parowan,” the Maxwell Institute’s new audience has been expressly said not to include “the typical Mormon in Ogden.”

“The Neal A. Maxwell Institute for Religious Scholarship,” says the Institute’s public announcement that it had dismissed the editors of the Mormon Studies Review (or FARMS Review) and suspended publication of that journal, “is continually striving to align its work with the academy’s highest objectives and standards, as befits an organized research unit at Brigham Young University. . . . We are going to assemble a group of scholars in the area of Mormon studies to consult with us on how best to position Mormon Studies Review within this area of study.”

So what is “Mormon studies”? What is this field in which the new Mormon Studies Review, when and if it reappears after a suitably long period of detoxification, is going to better position itself?

“The term Mormon studies means different things to different people,” M. Gerald Bradford, the current director of the Maxwell Institute, wrote in an article published by the FARMS Review in 2007. “For some . . . it is synonymous with Mormon historical studies. . . . I use the term to refer to a range of efforts likely to contribute directly to work on the tradition in various religious studies programs.”9

Mormon studies, it seems, is a subset of the broader field of “religious studies.” But what is this field of “religious studies”?

On the whole, it’s quite different from the way in which Brigham Young University has historically approached Mormonism. “In the wider academic world,” writes Dr. Bradford,

within religion programs in private, nonaffiliated, and public colleges and universities, such study is conducted in a diverse intellectual environment. At BYU the subject is approached from a perspective of institutional and individual commitment. While BYU does offer a few courses on other religions, it does not maintain a religious studies program. It is devoted, in other words, to teaching students the “language of faith” more than the “language about faith.”10

“It proceeds,” he says of religious studies, “on the basis of maintaining a distinction between descriptive and structural studies on the one hand and attempts at grappling with religious value judgments and truth claims on the other.”11 It constitutes “an important and influential alternative to theological approaches that have been, and continue to be, the way religion is most often studied and taught in this country.”12 In religious studies, says Dr. Bradford, “before attempting to resolve questions of truth or value, the goal should be to show the influence and power of these ideas and practices in the real world and to discern how they interact with other aspects of human existence.”13 Thus, there should be no surprise that, in Dr. Bradford’s lengthy FARMS Review article entitled “The Study of Mormonism: A Growing Interest in Academia,” strikingly little attention—indeed, almost none—is given to apologetics.14

“Fundamentally,” observes my friend and colleague William Hamblin, who has published extensively on Islam, ancient holy warfare, and Solomon’s temple in myth and history,

religious studies examines religion as a human phenomenon, with the (often unspoken) assumption that religious belief and practice is entirely explainable without positing the existence of God or his intervention in human history and life. This is a self-imposed limitation on the discipline, in which it is mimicking . . . the empiricism and materialism of the natural sciences. This assumption makes some sense in some ways, since religion is indeed an integral part of of all human societies and cultures, and can be studied by examining its human context and its impact on human cultures, societies, and individuals.15

A couple of almost randomly chosen religious studies programs should serve to illustrate the orientation of the field:

The website of the religious studies program at Utah Valley University, in Orem, explains that

The program is intended to serve our students and community by deepening our understanding of religious beliefs and practices in a spirit of open inquiry. Its aim is neither to endorse nor to undermine the claims of religion, but to create an environment in which various issues can be engaged from a variety of perspectives and methodologies.16

A corresponding entry for the religious studies program at the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill informs students that

Writing for religious studies takes place within a secular, academic environment, rather than a faith-oriented community. For this reason, the goal of any paper in religious studies should not be to demonstrate or refute provocative religious concepts, such as the existence of God, the idea of reincarnation, or the possibility of burning in hell. By nature, such issues are supernatural and/or metaphysical and thus not open to rational inquiry.17

In this light, notice how the 2012 Mission Statement of the Maxwell Institute reads, and contrast it with the one I quoted above from 2010:

By furthering religious scholarship through the study of scripture and other texts, Brigham Young University’s Neal A. Maxwell Institute for Religious Scholarship seeks to deepen understanding and nurture discipleship among Latter-day Saints while promoting mutual respect and goodwill among people of all faiths.”

“Understanding” will be “deepened” through “the study of scripture and other texts”—some of these other texts being those of the Middle Eastern Texts Initiative, which I conceived and founded and which deals with such materials as the Physics of Ibn Sina, Moses Maimonides’ Medical Aphorisms, and The Incoherence of the Philosophers by al-Ghazali. “Scholarship” will also, the Statement indicates, “nurture discipleship among Latter-day Saints.”

Gone is the language about “defend[ing] the Restoration” and “provid[ing] an anchor of faith in a sea of LDS Studies.” The focus, now, is on “how best to position Mormon Studies Review [and, presumably, the Maxwell Institute as a whole] within this area of study.”

It’s been explained to me and a few others that, in fact, the Maxwell Institute will continue to do apologetics, in the sense that solid scholarship will create a favorable impression in the minds of the scholars who read it. But this seems to stretch the meaning of the term apologetics well beyond customary bounds. Fielding a successful football team and hiring an effective grounds crew to keep the flowers blooming on BYU’s campus also tend to make favorable impressions upon outsiders, and I support them, but they don’t seem in any real sense “apologetic.”

One enthusiastic proponent of Mormon studies has pointed out what should be obvious, given the general nature of the broader field of religious studies, that “those engaged in Mormon studies do not necessarily have to be Mormon themselves.”18

Let me say right away that I believe there is a place for such studies. I, myself, in my writing on Islam, work from within a similar methodology. And I don’t object to such approaches when the topic is Mormonism. That’s why I’m currently serving as president of the Society for Mormon Philosophy and Theology, which actively involves non-Mormon and—how can I say this without giving offense where none is intended?—non-communicant Mormon scholars as well as believing Mormon scholars in its conferences and its journal and on its board.

In fact, during the last conversation that I had with the director of the Maxwell Institute before I left for six weeks overseas—I was dismissed by email roughly a week into my trip, while in Jerusalem—I was informed of the new course to which the Maxwell Institute is now committed. To illustrate what the “new course” might look like, three volumes recently published by a new Mormon-oriented venture called Salt Press were offered to me as prime examples of the kind of writing that the Institute ought to be sponsoring. As it happens, I agree that we should have been sponsoring such writing. In fact, I serve on Salt Press’s Editorial Board.

I see no reason why both apologetics and Mormon studies shouldn’t be encouraged, nor even why they can’t both be pursued by the same organization, published in the same journal, cultivated by the same scholar. There is, I believe, a place for both.

I see apologetics as a form, a subgenre, of Mormon studies. If I didn’t, I would never have permitted the renaming of the FARMS Review as the Mormon Studies Review, because that name change would have represented a fundamental change of mission for the journal—as, in fact, I’m now informed that it did.

I’m for inclusion, rather than exclusion. But there can be no question that Mormon studies, as it’s conceived in secular academic programs, is quite distinct from apologetics or “defense of the faith.” And, unlike me, some see the two approaches as utterly incompatible, one being academically legitimate and the other not—just as the kind of religious education practiced at BYU would be disdained at many colleges and universities.

A few observers, commenting on the recent shake-up at the Maxwell Institute, have claimed that it represents a generational change: A newer, perhaps better trained, certainly kinder and gentler cohort of scholars is arriving on the scene that is embarrassed if not disgusted by the things their predecessors have done, and that is eager to replace sordid polemics and distasteful pseudoscholarship with solid, dispassionate Mormon studies. Time will tell whether this change of generations will really deliver the predicted transformation. But it’s demonstrably untrue that academic discomfort with apologetics is a novelty, without precedent. Hugh Nibley, widely venerated now, was reviled and resented by some of his fellow Latter-day Saint academics not so very long ago.

Richard Lloyd Anderson, one of our most distinguished Latter-day Saint scholars and the premier authority on the Witnesses to the Book of Mormon, told me many years ago of being labeled early in his career by fellow Mormons as an apologist rather than a real scholar. “Today,” he has told me in a private email,

Latter-day Saint scholars are rescuing “apologist” from the trash bin, but it probably will continue as a standard sneer in uninformed circles. I would rather not be so described, but I am convinced intellectually and spiritually that Joseph Smith was authorized by angels to restore Christ’s Original Church. Rather than feel insulted by a misused label, I keep paradoxical satisfaction that the ancient and millennial gospel of light has caused me to be exiled to intellectual outer darkness. Yet the Lord promised his ancient Twelve: “Whosoever therefore shall confess me before men, him will I confess also before my Father which is in heaven” (Matt. 10:32).

This conflict will not soon end. But I still will hope for more accurate descriptions. My thesaurus lists “advocate” as a synonym for “apologist.” These terms have few differences in objective meaning, but the connotative distinction for me is very meaningful.19

I’m not sure, unfortunately, that Latter-day Saint scholars have rescued the term apologist from the trash bin, as Professor Anderson says. I haven’t given up hope, but I’m not sure that we’ll be able to do it.

In an article entitled “Where is the ‘Mormon’ in Mormon Studies?” that appeared in the 2011 inaugural issue of the Claremont Journal of Mormon Studies, Loyd Ericson, a proponent of Mormon studies who has been vocally overjoyed at recent changes—both of direction and of personnel—at the Maxwell Institute, suggested that some people might need to be excluded from the field of Mormon studies. We’re “force[d] . . . to ask the questions,” he wrote, “of who should be allowed to participate, how should it be done, and what should be the objects of these studies. Should boundaries of exclusion be drawn? Or should all—including the evangelizing, the apologists, the revisionists, and the anti-Mormons—be allowed to mingle in the broadest field of Mormon Studies?”20

Of “the Mormon apologists”—who, he wrote under quite different circumstances back in 2011, are “easily best represented by Daniel Peterson and his colleagues in the Maxwell Institute at Brigham Young University”—Ericson cautions that “While they may at least seem to work within academic standards, there still exists an uneasiness among many about including them into Mormon Studies because of the belief of many academics that Mormon and/or religious studies is a forum for studying, and not promoting or defending, religious beliefs.”21

Ericson allowed, hypothetically, that there might be a “uniquely Mormon methodology” that one could employ in Mormon studies. “This methodology,” he says,

would include a faith or religiously based testimonial as part of one’s argument or discussion. Examples of this might include appealing to one’s own spiritual confirmation of the historical reality of Joseph Smith’s First Vision when discussing the beginnings of Mormonism, basing an understanding of the context of the Book of Mormon off of one’s belief in its ancient origins, or the claim that the growth of the LDS Church is due to the Holy Spirit influencing others to convert to God’s true church.22

His statement is fascinating. Notice how it equates “appealing to one’s own spiritual confirmation of the historical reality of Joseph Smith’s First Vision when discussing the beginnings of Mormonism” and “claim[ing] that the growth of the LDS Church is due to the Holy Spirit” with “basing an understanding of the context of the Book of Mormon off of one’s belief in its ancient origins.” All of these are subsumed under the notion of “includ[ing] a faith or religiously based testimonial as part of one’s argument or discussion.”

One’s personal spiritual experiences would never constitute appropriate or acceptable evidence in an academic argument, however appropriate they surely are in church, and FARMS and Maxwell Institute authors have never appealed to them in that way. Nor would it be suitable to claim, in a purely secular academic argument, that the Holy Spirit is the cause of any religious trend or event. Methodological naturalism reigns supreme in the general academic world, and for good reason.

But an important element in the FARMS and Maxwell Institute approach, certainly a facet of the approach taken by many authors, has been to presume the antiquity of the Book of Mormon, the Book of Abraham, and the like, or at least to consider ancient settings. We wanted to see what can be learned about the texts on that basis, to get an idea of how productive such a viewpoint is. Moreover, Hugh Nibley, the patron saint of FARMS, argued at length in such essays as “New Approaches to Book of Mormon Study,” which first appeared in 1953 and was then incorporated into his Collected Works via the 1989 anthology The Prophetic Book of Mormon, that the proper way to examine the provenance of a disputed text is, first, to assume that it’s genuine. He quotes the eminent German scholar Friedrich Blass: “We have the document, and the name of its author; we must begin our examination by assuming that the author indicated really wrote it.”23

In an online exchange with me back in 2010, Loyd Ericson argued that any apologetic effort attempting to defend the antiquity of the Book of Mormon, the Book of Moses, and the Book of Abraham inescapably makes faulty assumptions about the verifiability of those texts. Why? Because the versions of these scriptures that we have today are in English and date from the nineteenth century, and because we do not possess (and, hence, cannot examine) the putative original-language texts from which they are claimed to have been translated. Accordingly, he said, they cannot plausibly be read, used, tested, or analyzed as ancient historical documents. They can only be read as documents of the nineteenth century, as illustrations of, and in the light of, that period. This, he claimed, is an insurmountable problem.

But, as I argued in an essay published in the late FARMS Review in 2010, it isn’t. Scholars routinely test the claims to historicity of translated documents for which no original-language manuscripts are extant and, also routinely, having satisfied themselves of their authenticity, use them as valuable scholarly resources for understanding the ancient world.24

A few members of the church appear to reject apologetics in principle, regarding it as inevitably, no matter how charitably and competently it is done, more detrimental than beneficial. They seem to do so on the basis of something resembling fideism, the view that faith is independent of reason, and even that reason and faith are incompatible with each other. “The words reasoning and evidence trouble me,” one active Church member said to me during an Internet discussion. They seem, he said,

to imply that things like Hebraisms and the NHM inscription will validate my commitment to Mormonism. This is absolutely and patently untrue and false. Reasoning and so-called evidences are illusions, in a world that requires faith.

There is no rationale for angels, gold plates, and a corporeal Divine visit(s).

There is no rationale for a resurrection, atonement, or exaltation. These things defy reason and logic. There is no possible evidence for these things either.

My faith, my redemption, my happiness/peace are the reasons and evidence for my devotion.

Now, obviously, to treat God solely as a hypothesis, a conjecture, or a topic for discussion is very different from reverencing or submitting to God in a spirit of religious devotion. There are few if any for whom reason is sufficient without faith. Ideally, from the believer’s perspective, God comes to be known in a personal I-Thou relationship, as an experienced challenge and as a comfort in times of sorrow, not merely as a chance to show off in a graduate seminar or, worse, to grandstand on an Internet message board. And many of those who know God in that way—certainly this must be true of simple, unlettered believers across Christendom and throughout its history—may neither need nor desire any further evidence. Moreover, most would agree—I certainly would—that it is impossible, using empirical methods, to prove the divine. And it is surely true that faith is best nurtured and sustained, not by immersion in clever arguments, but by the method outlined in Alma 32. Emulation of the Savior, loving service, faithful home and visiting teaching, generous fast offerings, earnest missionary work, prayerful communication—these are the fundamentally significant elements of a Christian life. There are relatively few people for whom apologetics is a necessary, let alone a sufficient, path to faith.

For the vast majority of people, today as in premodern times, faith isn’t a matter of reason or argumentation, but of hearing the testimonies of others and of coming to conviction on the basis of personal experiences. Each Fast Sunday, Latter-day Saints are privileged to hear often beautiful testimonies that offer neither syllogisms nor objective data. Missionaries quickly discover that it is testimony that changes hearts, not chains of scriptural references, let alone a weighty volume of apologetics.

But that is not to admit that evidence and logic are wholly irrelevant to religious questions. Apologetics is no mere luxury or game. Someone who has been confused and bewildered by the sophistry of antagonists—and often, though not always, that is exactly what it is—might well justly regard apologetic arguments as a vital lifeline permitting the exercise of faith, as a way (in the words of one message board poster) of “keeping a spark going long enough to rekindle a fire.” Testimony can see a person through times when the evidence seems against belief, but studied conviction can help a believer through spiritual dry spells, when God seems distant and spiritual experiences are distant memories. Even faithful members who are untouched by crisis or serious doubt can be benefited by solid apologetic arguments, motivated to stand fast, to keep doing the more fundamental things that will build faith and deepen confidence and strengthen their all-important spiritual witness. Why should such members be deprived of this blessing?

“I am well aware,” says the Oxford philosophical theologian Brian Hebblethwaite in the very first paragraph of his 2005 book In Defense of Christianity,

that reason is not the basis of faith. Christian faith is not founded on arguments. Most believers have either grown up and been nurtured in what have been called “convictional communities” and have simply found that religious faith and participation in religious life make sense to them, or else have been precipitated into religious commitment and practice by some powerful conversion experience. Few people are actually reasoned into faith. The arguments which I intend to sketch here are more like buttresses than foundations, reasons that can be given, as I say, in support of faith.25

I like that image of foundation and buttresses.

Furthermore, in my judgment, that active Church member is simply wrong. There is, in fact, a rational case to be made for such propositions as the actual existence of the gold plates of the Book of Mormon and the resurrection of Christ.26

Will apologetic arguments save everybody? No. The Savior himself aside, nothing will—and, in fact, at least a few determined souls will apparently forgo salvation despite even his gracious atonement. But the fact that some remain unmoved by them no more discredits apologetic arguments as a whole than the enterprise of medicine is rendered worthless by the fact that some patients don’t recover. Certain illnesses are fatal.

The children of God have different temperaments, expectations, capacities, personal histories, interests, and paths, and we dare not, or so it seems to me, close a door on someone’s journey that, though perhaps unnecessary to us, might be invaluable for that person. The fact that I can swim scarcely justifies my standing on the shore watching while someone else drowns because she can’t. As C. S. Lewis put it, speaking of and to well-educated British Christians,

To be ignorant and simple now—not to be able to meet the enemies on their own ground—would be to throw down our weapons, and to betray our uneducated brethren who have, under God, no defence but us against the intellectual attacks of the heathen. Good philosophy must exist, if for no other reason, because bad philosophy needs to be answered.27

If the ground is encumbered with a lush overgrowth of critical arguments, the seed of faith of which Alma speaks cannot take root. It’s the duty of the apologist, in that sense, to clear the ground in order to make it possible for the seed to grow. Faith is still necessary. (I’m unaware of anybody who claims that religious belief derives purely from reason; for that matter, I’m confident that unbelief doesn’t, either.) Apologetics is simply a useful tool that, much as Austin Farrer wrote, helps to preserve an environment that permits such faith to take root and flourish.

“Be ready,” says the First Epistle of Peter, “always to give an answer to every man that asketh you a reason of the hope that is in you with meekness and fear.”28 That’s the King James Version rendering of the passage. “Always be prepared,” reads the New International Version, “to give an answer to everyone who asks you to give the reason for the hope that you have. But do this with gentleness and respect.” The Greek word rendered “answer” in both translations is apologia, which is manifestly cognate with the English word apologetics.

A skeptic of apologetics might, of course, respond that the author of 1 Peter is telling Christians to be willing to testify of Christ and their hope for salvation, something quite distinct from a call to use reason to defend a particular religious claim. And, obviously, the biblical apostles would indeed want us to stand as witnesses for Christ. But does 1 Peter 3:15 exclude the use of rational argument in such testifying?

It seems highly unlikely. The word that is translated as “reason” by both the King James Version and the New International Version, cited above, is the Greek λογος, or logos. It is an extraordinarily rich term, and much has been written about its meaning.29 Logos can refer to speech, a word, a computation or reckoning, the settlement of an account, or the independent personified “Word” of God (as in most translations of John 1:1). A central meaning, however, is “reason,” and it is from logos that the English word logic derives—as do the names of any number of fields devoted to systematic, rational inquiry (e.g., anthropology, archaeology, biology, cosmology, criminology, Egyptology, geology, meteorology, ontology, paleontology, theology, and zoology). It is rendered in the Latin Vulgate Bible’s version of 1 Peter 3:15 as ratio (“reason,” “judgment”), which is obviously related to our English word rational. Furthermore, when Paul spoke before King Agrippa at Caesarea Maritima—arguing that, among other things, Christ’s resurrection fulfilled the predictions of Moses and the other prophets—he was making his “defense,” and he used a Greek verb closely and directly related to apologia: apologeisthai. The Apology of Plato, similarly, reports the speech that Socrates offered before his Athenian accusers.

It seems that 1 Peter’s exhortation to “be ready always to give an answer to every man that asketh you a reason of the hope that is in you” charters and legitimates the use of reasoned argument in support of the gospel of Jesus Christ. Frankly, the idea that active Latter-day Saints might (or even should) feel no obligation to use what they know in order to defend the church against its critics, or to help struggling Saints, strikes me as exceedingly strange. Our responsibility as members of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints to love and serve the Lord with all our heart, might, mind, and strength implies such an obligation, and our temple covenants absolutely entail that we sustain and defend the kingdom of God.30

In a sense, the scholar, thinker, teacher, or writer who places his or her skills on the altar as an offering to God is no different from the bricklayer, knitter, carpenter, counselor, administrator, dentist, accountant, youth leader, farmer, physician, linguist, genealogist, or nurse who donates time and labor and specific abilities in the service of God and the Saints and humanity in general.

Now the body is not made up of one part but of many. If the foot should say, “Because I am not a hand, I do not belong to the body,” it would not for that reason cease to be part of the body. And if the ear should say, “Because I am not an eye, I do not belong to the body,” it would not for that reason cease to be part of the body. If the whole body were an eye, where would the sense of hearing be? If the whole body were an ear, where would the sense of smell be? But in fact God has arranged the parts in the body, every one of them, just as he wanted them to be. If they were all one part, where would the body be? As it is, there are many parts, but one body. The eye cannot say to the hand, “I don’t need you!” And the head cannot say to the feet, “I don’t need you!”31

As C. S. Lewis put it, “All our merely natural activities will be accepted, if they are offered to God, even the humblest, and all of them, even the noblest, will be sinful if they are not.”32

Now, one might conceivably argue that while, as a Christian, one is under a divine mandate to bear witness, one is not obliged to use reason to defend specific truth claims, or that, whatever covenants they may have taken upon themselves, Latter-day Saints are not obligated to defend their specific church by the use of such rational arguments as they can muster.

The scriptures, however, seem to teach otherwise. Jesus himself, for example, appealed to miracles and to fulfilled prophecy as evidence that his claims were true. To his disciples, he said, “Believe me that I am in the Father, and the Father in me: or else believe me for the very works’ sake.”33 To the two Christian disciples walking along the road to Emmaus immediately after his resurrection, he said:

O fools, and slow of heart to believe all that the prophets have spoken: Ought not Christ to have suffered these things, and to enter into his glory? And beginning at Moses and all the prophets, he expounded unto them in all the scriptures the things concerning himself. (Luke 24:25-27)

Speaking to other Jews, the original Christian apostles likewise employed fulfilled prophecy and the miracles of Jesus—particularly his resurrection—to demonstrate that Jesus was the Messiah. Consider, for example, how, in his sermon on the day of Pentecost, Peter appeals to fulfilled prophecy and miracles, logic, and personal witness:

Men of Israel, listen to this: Jesus of Nazareth was a man accredited by God to you by miracles, wonders and signs, which God did among you through him, as you yourselves know. This man was handed over to you by God’s set purpose and foreknowledge; and you, with the help of wicked men, put him to death by nailing him to the cross. But God raised him from the dead, freeing him from the agony of death, because it was impossible for death to keep its hold on him. David said about him:

     I saw the Lord always before me.

     Because he is at my right hand,

     I will not be shaken.

     Therefore my heart is glad and my tongue rejoices;

     my body also will live in hope,

     because you will not abandon me to the grave,

     nor will you let your Holy One see decay.

     You have made known to me the paths of life;

     you will fill me with joy in your presence.

Brothers, I can tell you confidently that the patriarch David died and was buried, and his tomb is here to this day. But he was a prophet and knew that God had promised him on oath that he would place one of his descendants on his throne. Seeing what was ahead, he spoke of the resurrection of the Christ, that he was not abandoned to the grave, nor did his body see decay. God has raised this Jesus to life, and we are all witnesses of the fact.34

In dealing with non-Jews, the apostles attempted to demonstrate the existence of God by appealing to evidence of it in nature. Thus, for instance, in Acts 14, when the pagans at Lystra were so impressed by the miracles of Barnabas and Paul that they mistook them for, respectively, Zeus and Hermes, the two apostles were horrified.

They rent their clothes, and ran in among the people, crying out, and saying, Sirs, why do ye these things? We also are men of like passions with you, and preach unto you that ye should turn from these vanities unto the living God, which made heaven, and earth, and the sea, and all things that are therein: who in times past suffered all nations to walk in their own ways. Nevertheless he left not himself without witness, in that he did good, and gave us rain from heaven, and fruitful seasons, filling our hearts with food and gladness.35

Addressing the saints at Rome, Paul declared that

the wrath of God is being revealed from heaven against all the godlessness and wickedness of men who suppress the truth by their wickedness, since what may be known about God is plain to them, because God has made it plain to them. For since the creation of the world God’s invisible qualities—his eternal power and divine nature—have been clearly seen, being understood from what has been made, so that men are without excuse.36

Such appeals to the evidence of nature are also found in the Old Testament: “The heavens declare the glory of God,” says the Psalmist; “the skies proclaim the work of his hands.”37 Historical evidence also plays a role. Addressing the Saints at Corinth, the apostle Paul ticks off a list of witnesses to the resurrection of Jesus as evidence for the truth of what they have been taught:

For what I received I passed on to you as of first importance: that Christ died for our sins according to the Scriptures, that he was buried, that he was raised on the third day according to the Scriptures, and that he appeared to Peter, and then to the Twelve. After that, he appeared to more than five hundred of the brothers at the same time, most of whom are still living, though some have fallen asleep. Then he appeared to James, then to all the apostles, and last of all he appeared to me also.38

During his stay in Athens, Paul “reasoned in the synagogue with the Jews and the God-fearing Greeks, as well as in the marketplace day by day with those who happened to be there.”39 And, most notably, he presented a logical case to some of the city’s Epicurean and Stoic philosophers on Mars Hill, near the Acropolis, even citing proof texts from pagan Greek poets in support of his doctrine.40

It’s clear that both Jesus and the apostles were perfectly willing to supply evidence and to make arguments for the truth of the message they preached. Did this mean that they didn’t trust the Holy Ghost to bring about conversion? Hardly. Instead, they trusted that the Holy Ghost would work through their arguments and their evidence to convert those whose hearts were open to the Spirit.

Moreover, according to the Book of Mormon, a similar mixture of preaching, testifying, and appealing to reason was employed by the inspired leaders of the pre-Columbian New World. Consider the case of the antichrist called Korihor:

And he did rise up in great swelling words before Alma, and did revile against the priests and teachers, accusing them of leading away the people after the silly traditions of their fathers, for the sake of glutting on the labors of the people. Now Alma said unto him: Thou knowest that we do not glut ourselves upon the labors of this people; for behold I have labored even from the commencement of the reign of the judges until now, with mine own hands for my support, notwithstanding my many travels round about the land to declare the word of God unto my people. And notwithstanding the many labors which I have performed in the church, I have never received so much as even one senine for my labor; neither has any of my brethren, save it were in the judgment-seat; and then we have received only according to law for our time. And now, if we do not receive anything for our labors in the church, what doth it profit us to labor in the church save it were to declare the truth, that we may have rejoicings in the joy of our brethren? Then why sayest thou that we preach unto this people to get gain, when thou, of thyself, knowest that we receive no gain?41

Alma even appeals to a simple kind of natural theology to make his point:

And then Alma said unto him: Believest thou that there is a God? And he answered, Nay. Now Alma said unto him: Will ye deny again that there is a God, and also deny the Christ? For behold, I say unto you, I know there is a God, and also that Christ shall come. And now what evidence have ye that there is no God, or that Christ cometh not? I say unto you that ye have none, save it be your word only. But, behold, I have all things as a testimony that these things are true; and ye also have all things as a testimony unto you that they are true; and will ye deny them? Believest thou that these things are true? Behold, I know that thou believest, but thou art possessed with a lying spirit, and ye have put off the Spirit of God that it may have no place in you; but the devil has power over you, and he doth carry you about, working devices that he may destroy the children of God. And now Korihor said unto Alma: If thou wilt show me a sign, that I may be convinced that there is a God, yea, show unto me that he hath power, and then will I be convinced of the truth of thy words. But Alma said unto him: Thou hast had signs enough; will ye tempt your God? Will ye say, Show unto me a sign, when ye have the testimony of all these thy brethren, and also all the holy prophets? The scriptures are laid before thee, yea, and all things denote there is a God; yea, even the earth, and all things that are upon the face of it, yea, and its motion, yea, and also all the planets which move in their regular form do witness that there is a Supreme Creator. And yet do ye go about, leading away the hearts of this people, testifying unto them there is no God? And yet will ye deny against all these witnesses? And he said: Yea, I will deny, except ye shall show me a sign. And now it came to pass that Alma said unto him: Behold, I am grieved because of the hardness of your heart, yea, that ye will still resist the spirit of the truth, that thy soul may be destroyed.42

And the same mixture of preaching, testimony, and reasoning has been enjoined upon members of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints in this modern dispensation as well. “Behold,” the Lord told William E. McLellin in a revelation given through the Prophet Joseph Smith on 25 October 1831, at Orange, Ohio,

verily I say unto you, that it is my will that you should proclaim my gospel from land to land, and from city to city, yea, in those regions round about where it has not been proclaimed. . . . Go unto the eastern lands, bear testimony in every place, unto every people and in their synagogues, reasoning with the people.43

McLellin was to proclaim the gospel, yes, and to bear testimony, but he was also to reason with his audience—which sounds very much like a description of a type of apologetic argumentation. Indeed, it is difficult to conceive of a method of testifying that in no way includes the faculty of reason. Even to say something as simple as “I have felt divine love, so I’m confident that there is a God who loves me” represents an elementary form of logical argument. Likewise, according to a revelation given at Hiram, Ohio, in November 1831,

My servant, Orson Hyde, was called by his ordination to proclaim the everlasting gospel, by the Spirit of the living God, from people to people, and from land to land, in the congregations of the wicked, in their synagogues, reasoning with and expounding all scriptures unto them.44

Leman Copley, too, called along with Sidney Rigdon and Parley P. Pratt on a mission to his former associates among the Shakers by a revelation given at Kirtland, Ohio, in March 1831, was told to

reason with them, not according to that which he has received of them, but according to that which shall be taught him by you my servants; and by so doing I will bless him, otherwise he shall not prosper.45

On 1 December 1831, in the wake of a series of newspaper articles written by an apostate named Ezra Booth, the Lord told the members of his little church:

Wherefore, confound your enemies; call upon them to meet you both in public and in private; and inasmuch as ye are faithful their shame shall be made manifest. Wherefore, let them bring forth their strong reasons against the Lord. Verily, thus saith the Lord unto you—there is no weapon that is formed against you shall prosper; and if any man lift his voice against you he shall be confounded in mine own due time.46

Not surprisingly, the church’s contemporary missionary program, too, encourages and trains its representatives to give reasons, as the missionaries have always been expected to do. Preach My Gospel, the contemporary guide to missionary service, lists scriptural passages by the scores at appropriate places in its lessons for investigators.14 Missionaries are plainly intended to use these to reason with those they are teaching, to explain the claims of the Restoration and to support and ground them in revealed scripture.

This is what we humans normally do in conversation. When someone asks why we’re voting for Barack Obama or supporting Mitt Romney, or why we think the Dodgers the best team in baseball, we typically give reasons. Simply replying “Because!” seems, somehow, lacking.

Paul J. Griffiths, a trained scholar of Buddhist studies whom I’ve quoted previously, published a book in 1991, entitled An Apology for Apologetics, in which he “defend[s] the need for the traditional discipline of apologetics as one important component of interreligious dialogue.”47 He does so against what he calls a scholarly orthodoxy that “suggests that understanding is the only legitimate goal; that judgement and criticism of religious beliefs or practices other than those of one’s own community is always inappropriate; and that an active defense of the truth of those beliefs and practices to which one’s community appears committed is always to be shunned.”48 In his strongly expressed opinion, “such an orthodoxy (which tends to include the view that the very idea of orthodoxy has no sense) produces a discourse that is pallid, platitudinous, and degutted. Its products are intellectual pacifiers for the immature: pleasant to suck on but not very nourishing.”49

Professor Griffiths argues for what he calls the principle of the “necessity of interreligious apologetics.”50 This is how he formulates it:

If representative intellectuals belonging to some specific religious community come to judge at a particular time that some or all of their own doctrine-expressing sentences are incompatible with some alien religious claim(s), then they should feel obliged to engage in both positive and negative apologetics vis-à-vis these alien religious claim(s) and their promulgators.51

Professor Griffiths distinguishes negative apologetics from positive apologetics in precisely the same way that I have. As an example of negative apologetics, which he describes as a defense of a proposition or belief against criticism, he points out that a critic of Buddhism might argue that the two propositions There are no enduring spiritual substances and Each human person is reborn multiple times are mutually contradictory. In response, a negative Buddhist apologetic will seek to show that there is no contradiction between them.

Critics of Christianity often argue that the existence of massive natural evil in the world is incompatible with the existence of a benevolent God. A negative Christian apologetic will argue that the fact of natural evil actually can be reconciled with belief in a loving God.

In a Latter-day Saint context, negative apologetics will seek to rebut, to neutralize, claims such as Oliver Cowdery denied his testimony or Joseph Smith’s introduction of polygamy shows him to be a man of poor character or Mormonism is racist. Attacks against the claims of the Restoration began even before the publication of the Book of Mormon and the organization of the Church, and Latter-day Saints have been responding to them for nearly two centuries now. Regardless of whether the responses have been sophisticated or not, or are judged adequate or inadequate, they constitute negative apologetics.

Positive apologetics seek to demonstrate that a given religious or ideological community’s practices or beliefs are good, believable, true, and/or, in some cases, superior to those of some other community. While negative apologetics is defensive, positive apologetics is offensive—by which, incidentally, despite my richly deserved reputation for vicious and unethical polemics, I don’t mean to say that it necessarily gives offense.

Griffiths argues that religious communities have an epistemic or even ethical duty to engage in apologetics.52 Why? Because, since religious groups typically claim that their teachings are true, they are obliged to respond when, as usually happens, somebody else claims that, in fact, their teachings are wholly or partially false. We should not be indifferent to the truth or falsity of what we claim, and all the more so when our claim involves matters of ultimate importance. This means that religious communities have a duty to engage in negative apologetics, to defend or justify their assertions.

Mainstream Buddhists, for example, who espouse what has been called the doctrine of “No Self,” believe that the notion of a continuing substantial “soul,” such as most Christians affirm, creates and perpetuates suffering. If challenged by Buddhist thinkers on the question, it is the duty of the Christian community to justify its affirmation or to withdraw it.53

In fact, knowing of the existence of competing doctrines that contradict its own teachings, representatives of a religious community might proceed to a positive apologetics, seeking to demonstrate that one or more of their claims are, in fact, very believable, or even, perhaps, superior to rival views. There is, in fact, arguably an ethical imperative to do so, because religions commonly hold that adherence to their doctrines is important, and maybe even essential, to salvation. Just as a person on the shore holding a life rope has an obligation to help a drowning man, so do those who have the saving doctrines or practices have an obligation to help those who might otherwise perish.

Griffiths also argues that apologetics can substantially benefit the faithful, because of what he describes as

the tendency of members of religious communities not to think in any very self-conscious way about the implications of the views into which they have been acculturated. These views are part of their blood and bone, among the presuppositions of their existence as human beings.54

Religious communities are, he says, typically forced into more nuanced understandings of their own doctrines and practices “primarily by pressures from outside or by criticisms from dissident groups within.” He cites as an example the creedal formulae generated by the ancient ecumenical councils of the Christian church.55 A Latter-day Saint might cite the impetus given to Mormon historians by Fawn Brodie’s assertion that Joseph Smith’s First Vision was a fiction invented relatively late in the Prophet’s life. Several earlier accounts of the Vision were discovered as part of an effort to counter her claim. Apologetics, says Griffiths, who is a scholar of Buddhism, “is a learning tool of unparalleled power. It makes possible a level of understanding of one’s own doctrine-expressing sentences and their logic, as well as those of others, which is not to be had in any other way.”56

Moreover, Griffiths argues, a failure to take contradiction between competing truth claims seriously, a kind of “can’t we all just get along” indifference to resolving disputes, will have very serious consequences. “The result,” he says, “would be both relativism and fideism: religious communities would become closed, impermeable, incommensurable forms of life.”57

With Paul Griffiths, I’m convinced that apologetics is an important part of scholarly discourse in religious studies, that it should be considered a kind of religious studies, and, therefore, of Mormon studies.

Accordingly, I’m delighted to announce the launch of a new venture in Mormon studies, Interpreter: A Journal of Mormon Scripture—the product of a team that came together only a few days back, after my return from overseas less than two weeks ago. Its first article is now online:

http://www.mormoninterpreter.com/

It will not be purely an apologetic journal, but it won’t exclude or disdain apologetics, either.

Published online, it will be available in various ways, including print on demand, and will represent something far more sophisticated, technologically speaking, than we have yet seen in the field of Mormon studies. Being primarily published online, it will also be free to post articles, reviews, and notes as they’re ready to be made public. At a certain point, we’ll close the issue and commence a new one.

This will, I think, be an exciting venue for faithful Latter-day Saint thought and scholarship, as well as for readers. It will require some stretching, perhaps, but we intend to keep firmly in mind not merely the scholarly elite but the Relief Society sister in Parowan and the ordinary Mormon in Ogden.

Notes

1 Alvin Plantinga, “Advice to Christian Philosophers,” Faith and Philosophy 1/3 (July 1984): 271 as cited by Ericson, “Where is the ‘Mormon’ in Mormon Studies?” The Claremont Journal of Mormon Studies, Vol. 1, No. 1 (April 2011) p. 9.

2 Ericson, “Where is the ‘Mormon’ in Mormon Studies?” 7.

3 Austin Farrer, “Grete Clerk,” in Light on C. S. Lewis, edited by Jocelyn Gibb (New York: Harcourt and Brace, 1965), 26.

4 For reflections on what was then the place of apologetics within the overall program of the Neal A. Maxwell Institute for Religious Scholarship, see Daniel C. Peterson, “The Witchcraft Paradigm: On Claims to ‘Second Sight’ by People Who Say It Doesn’t Exist,” FARMS Review 18/2 (2006): ix–xviii.

5 Richard Lloyd Anderson, personal communication (31 July 2012), in the possession of the author of this paper.

6 Richard Lloyd Anderson, personal communication (31 July 2012), in the possession of the author of this paper.

7 Paul J. Griffiths, An Apology for Apologetics: A Study in the Logic of Interreligious Dialogue (Maryknoll, NY: Orbis Books, 1991), 2.

8 Griffiths, 2.

9 M. Gerald Bradford, “The Study of Mormonism: A Growing Interest in Academia,” 120, note 2.

10 Bradford, “The Study of Mormonism: A Growing Interest in Academia,” 125-126.

11 Bradford, “The Study of Mormonism: A Growing Interest in Academia,” 127-128.

12 Bradford, “The Study of Mormonism: A Growing Interest in Academia,” 129.

13 Bradford, “The Study of Mormonism: A Growing Interest in Academia,” 131.

14 M. Gerald Bradford, “The Study of Mormonism: A Growing Interest in Academia,” 119-174.

15 http://mormonscriptureexplorations.files.wordpress.com/2012/07/mormon-studies1.pdf

16 http://www.uvu.edu/religiousstudies/aboutprogram/mission.html.

17 http://www.unc.edu/wcweb/handouts/religious_studies.html

18 Ericson, “Where is the ‘Mormon’ in Mormon Studies?” 6.

19 Richard Lloyd Anderson, personal communication (31 July 2012), in the possession of the author of this paper.

20 Ericson, “Where is the ‘Mormon’ in Mormon Studies?” 13.

21 Ericson, “Where is the ‘Mormon’ in Mormon Studies?” 6.

22 Ericson, “Where is the ‘Mormon’ in Mormon Studies?” 10.

23 Hugh Nibley, The Prophetic Book of Mormon (Salt Lake City and Provo: Deseret Book and FARMS, 1989), 55.

24 See Daniel C. Peterson, “Editor’s Introduction: An Unapologetic Apology for Apologetics,” FARMS Review 22/2 (2010): xii-xv.

25 Brian Hebblethwaite, In Defense of Christianity (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2005), 1.

26 On the corroborating witnesses to the gold plates, Richard Lloyd Anderson has long been the preeminent authority. See, for example, his classic Investigating the Book of Mormon Witnesses (Salt Lake City: Deseret Book, 1981) and a number of his other substantial studies; also David Whitmer Interviews: A Restoration Witness, ed. Lyndon W. Cook (Orem, UT: Grandin, 1991), and John W. Welch and Larry E. Morris, eds., Oliver Cowdery: Scribe, Elder, Witness (Provo, UT: Neal A. Maxwell Institute for Religious Scholarship, Brigham Young University, 2006). As an example of writing about the plates themselves, see Kirk B. Henrichsen, “How Witnesses Described the ‘Gold Plates,’ ” Journal of Book of Mormon Studies 10/1 (2001): 16–21. There are numerous articles on ancient parallels to the Book of Mormon plates, among them William J. Hamblin, “Sacred Writing on Metal Plates in the Ancient Mediterranean,” FARMS Review 19/1 (2007): 37–54. For Christ’s resurrection, see any number of publications by such authors as Gary Habermas and William Lane Craig, as well as Stephen T. Davis, Risen Indeed: Making Sense of the Resurrection (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 1993), and N. T. Wright, The Resurrection of the Son of God (Minneapolis: Fortress, 2003).

27 C. S. Lewis, “Learning in War-Time,” in The Weight of Glory and Other Addresses (New York: HarperCollins, 2001), 58.

28 1 Peter 3:15.

29 Not least of which is Faust’s meditation on John 1, which, he finally decides, should be rendered “In the beginning was the Deed” (Im Anfang war die Tat). See Johann Wolfgang von Goethe, Faust, act 1, scene 3, lines 1210–37.

30 See Doctrine and Covenants 4:1–4, and note the clear missionary context of the passage. Compare Mark 12:28–31, which draws on Deuteronomy 6:4–9 and Leviticus 19:18.

31 1 Corinthians 12:14–21, NIV.

32 Lewis, “Learning in War-Time,” 54.

33 John 14:11.

34 Acts 2:22-32, NIV.

35 Acts 14:14-17.

36 Romans 1:18–20, NIV.

37 Psalm 19:1, NIV.

38 1 Corinthians 15:3–8, NIV.

39 Acts 17:17, NIV.

40 Acts 17:18-34.

41 Alma 30:31-35.

42 Alma 30:37-46.

43 Doctrine and Covenants 66:5, 7.

44 Doctrine and Covenants 68:1.

45 Doctrine and Covenants 49:4.

46 Doctrine and Covenants 71:7-10. One could argue that even God himself does not appear to disdain the use of reason with his children. See, for example, such passages as Doctrine and Covenants 45:10, 15; 50:10–12; 133:57; Isaiah 1:18.

47 Griffiths, xi.

48 Griffiths, xi.

49 Griffiths, xi-xii.

50 Griffiths, 1.

51 Griffiths, 3.

52 Then next few paragraphs depend essentially upon Griffiths, An Apology for Apologetics, 15-17.

53 The entire sixth chapter of Griffiths, An Apology for Apologetics, is devoted to laying out first a kind of model Buddhist position on this matter, followed by a model Christian position, and then, as a Christian believer, seeking to illustrate a way in which an apologetic encounter between representative Buddhist and Christian intellectuals might proceed. See Griffiths, 85-108.

54 Griffiths, 25-26.

55 Griffiths, 26.

56 Griffiths, 36.

57 Griffiths, 42.

Autobiographical Notes on My Testimony

Some of you may know there was a cartoon done of me in Sunstone recently, a very flattering article about me. “Dannibel Lecter” right? (Laughter) I contacted Dan Wotherspoon about that; I wanted to know if I could get the original for framing. This will probably have to take the place because he told me Sunstone didn’t own the rights so I’d have to buy it from the artist and I’m not sure I like it that much.

What I thought I’d do today, and it strikes me as in some ways an awfully brittle and shallow thing to do after this last presentation which I regard as really in many ways very, very moving, is to offer–and I always have doubts about what I’m about to do when I start to do it–but I thought I’d offer a kind of what might come across as a kind of intellectual historical testimony. A kind of autobiography, a kind of overview of FARMS with which I’ve been involved for quite a long time, and just make some observations along the way in a kind of narrative fashion.

And you can see this as a kind of testimony. A testimony of someone who has been involved on a kind of intellectual and academic level with Mormonism for quite some time and who still finds it incredibly interesting, stimulating and even liberating and exhilarating.

I was born and raised in southern California. I was raised in a part-member family; my father was a non-member and my mother a partially active member. I can remember that my first serious thoughts about religious topics were essentially agnostic. I did not see anything particularly convincing about the Church that I was occasionally taken to–the LDS Church–or any other. It didn’t strike me as very interesting. In fact, what I can mostly remember about Church was that it seemed to me a virtually interminable series of incredibly boring meetings which is not an attitude I’ve changed altogether! (Laughter) And I realize that may be a reflection on my spiritual state, but nonetheless that’s there and that’s the fact.

I was kind of, maybe an exhibitionistically precocious kid at some points. I can remember reading Dante, and Bertrand Russell, and Nietzsche and so on at very young ages–probably not understanding much.

My father owned a construction business. I grew up in a pretty working-class family and so I made a point of reading Karl Marx at lunchtime–it seemed the thing to do. (Laughter) I mean I was a member of the working class, why not read Marx? It was interesting to me that none of the people around me found it even slightly interesting. The real working class didn’t seem to care about Karl Marx. They were all busy planning their weekend adventures in their campers and motor homes.

But I can remember, too, feeling at a very young age a kind of inchoate yearning for something a little better than what I could sense in the world around me; and this maybe is at the base of my eventual interest in the gospel even despite what I saw as the obstacle of the Church in those days. And it expressed itself to me in a number of ways. For one thing, there were certain landscapes that seemed to me just to point to something beyond themselves. It’s hard to explain what this is like, maybe some of you have sensed it, there are certain landscapes that really speak to me.

I just came back last week from a trip to Europe. I’ve been traveling an awful lot the last three months and if I fall asleep up here I apologize. I’ve been more out of the country than in and I’m not sure what time zone I’m in right now.

But for me one of the places that I spent time in, deliberately spent time in, is an area called the Berner Oberland in the Swiss Alps–that’s where I served my mission and I still regard it as the most beautiful place on the face of the earth. I mean this landscape to me is just unbelievably beautiful.

Nevertheless there’s something about it that doesn’t satisfy. It sort of like Thomas Henry Huxley who, after a performance of Hamlet, is supposed to have said, ‘That was an absolutely brilliant performance,’ but then the next thought was, ‘but is that really all there is?’ That somehow even something as good as that didn’t quite satisfy.

And to me, these landscapes, I could name some others, there’s a place in the Italian Alps that really gets me, the Canadian Rockies. For me it’s mountains–alpine scenery. There’s a sense in which I think, ‘gee, I would like to possess them in a way that simply owning them would never do.’ That is there’s something–I realize I’m just a “passer through” and that there’s some place–C.S. Lewis talked about it as the yearning for pure “Northerness” (have you ever read his autobiography Surprised by Joy?) where he said there were certain landscapes, for him they were evoked by the music of Wagner. Wagner can do that to me too (even though I realize he was a swine and a sort of proto-Nazi). Occasionally his music, or, there’s one chord in Bach’s Toccata and Fugue in D Minor that just seemed to me to suggest something beyond themselves, something that you want to get to.

And to me, as for C.S. Lewis, what this is really talking about is a yearning that can’t be satisfied by anything in this life. That the best things in this life, the best art; the best music; the best landscapes; the most beautiful places; don’t quite do it–that we were created for something else.

A great line from St. Augustine, opening passage of his Confessions where he says, “Our hearts are restless till they find rest in Thee,” addressing God. And I think that’s absolutely right. That certainly has been true for me. That there’s nothing in this world that quite satisfies.

I’ve been bothered by an acute sense of transience since I can remember. I look at flowers and I find them more depressing than anything else because I know they won’t last. I spend a lot of my career looking at crumbling documents and the ruins of buildings and can’t help but think that the people who built them and who thought they were so wonderful have been gone for a long, long time; and it’s as if, almost, they had never lived. That sense that we pass and that we’re not really at home here. To borrow the clichÈ’d old line from the sort of country spiritual, “We’re pilgrims and strangers” is really, acutely true for me.

I can remember, too, staying home once from high school–I did this on a regular basis, I was very ingenious at excuses. I can’t remember whether this was a legitimate absence or not, probably not (law of averages). And I was reading a book that we’d inherited from my grandmother called Added Upon by Nephi Anderson. Some of you may be familiar with this. I do not believe I could read it now but nevertheless at that time I picked it up and I read it; it was a product of the home literature movement in the Church around the opening of the twentieth century and it’s an account of the Plan of Salvation, basically. I had somehow never heard the Plan of Salvation in Church meetings. They must’ve explained it but it had not spoken to me.

Suddenly I saw it here, the idea of pre-existence–going through this life as a test, the spirit world, exaltation in the life to come–all these sorts of things seemed to me unbelievably powerful and I remember thinking why hadn’t anybody ever told me about this? That seemed to me and still seems to me the most powerful vision of human destiny that I can imagine; more powerful than anything I’ve ever seen.

I had experiences at that time, and they’ve continued from time to time, where I caught just glimpses, I think–what Latter-day Saints would refer to as spiritual witness–of things to come. Little glimpses into, to me, into the spirit world. Little, you know, significant dreams. I remember a really powerful dream about the death of Joseph Smith. I woke up oppressed. Just really, really depressed and oppressed as if I had been there–not at the death but at the funeral. I went to school that morning and found out that David O. McKay had just died, and I don’t know if it was sheer chance or not. I don’t think so; it didn’t feel like it to me. And that, to me, was a kind of testimony that David O. McKay was in fact the successor to Joseph Smith. You can take that for what it’s worth.

I understand atheism. I think I was one probably for a while; certainly an agnostic. I’ve never understood the joy that some people claim to feel at atheism.

During this most recent trip to Europe, we spent the better part of the day at the Concentration Camp called Mauthausen just on the Danube not too far from Linz in Austria. It was a Concentration Camp that my father was involved in the liberation of at the end of World War II as part of Patton’s Third Army, and I’ve gone there several times. This was the first time since my father’s passing and it was kind of a pilgrimage for me. And every time I go there I find it incredibly moving. That, first of all, that human beings could build a hell in such a beautiful landscape is just unfathomable to me. But then the other thing to me is I cannot understand why someone would find it liberating to know, or to believe, that this life is all there is and that therefore the people who ran that camp got to write the last act of the lives of those they killed there. Well over 100,000 people were tortured to death in that camp.

Or, to put it more close to home right now, that Mark Hacking got to write the last act of the life of Lori Hacking. This does not seem to be good news to me.

And yet I meet people from time to time who tell me it’s wonderful, it’s good to know that there is no truth to religion; that there is no life to come. I find this unfathomable.

I had a patriarchal blessing when I was in high school from a patriarch whom I’d never met, never had any contact with him thereafter. I was about 15 or 16. And my motives for going to him for a blessing were not good. I have to admit looking back on it now I had thought that patriarchal blessings were given in the temple and I thought it would be really neat to get in! (Laughter) So I applied for a patriarchal blessing and then I found out he was giving it at the chapel in Alhambra, what a boring–I mean, I’d been there dozens of times. That wasn’t interesting to me.

But the patriarchal blessing was fascinating and I’ve gone back to it many times and have been struck by how much he knew about what would subsequently happen in my life and one of the things he talked about was a desire to stand up and defend the Church which I wasn’t conscious of at the age of 15, I wasn’t even interested in it. And yet it’s turned out to be true, but that’s not a motivating force for me. That simply seems to me to be right. And my patriarchal blessing, I can’t speak to everybody’s, but it has seemed to me a genuinely prophetic document from a man that I didn’t know and who didn’t know me; a remarkable thing.

Well, I wasn’t interested in going to BYU. I applied to BYU, got in. I really wanted to go to Cal Tech, which was not far from where I grew up. Let me tell you a little story that happened to me.

A man came out to interview me from Cal Tech, from the mathematics faculty there, and unfortunately the day he came to interview me I had just been thrown out of my physics class. It was an unfortunate experience–the teacher was showing a film about physics and anyway we were playing Frisbee with tortillas while the film was going and he stood up at the wrong time and I hit him in the head. (Laughter)

So when the man came to interview me, I was to be called out of my physics class, but I was actually sitting in the principal’s office, which was embarrassing because I was also student body president. It was not a good day.

The interview went really well, I thought, until a certain point when he said (and I guess I must’ve written this on my application), he said, ‘Well I see that you’re–what is this? Secretary of your priest’s quorum? What is that?’

Well I started explaining what it was and then he got into the issue of what we just talked about–the question of blacks and the priesthood. And this was somewhat before the revelation of 1978. And he wanted to know how I could explain this. It sounded awfully racist to him. And I was thinking, well not only does it sound awfully racist but I’m toast! This is not what I want to talk about in my application interview for Cal Tech.

And he asked really awkward questions and I struggled and struggled and struggled; and then at the end of it he said, ‘Well, you did reasonably well. My name is Peter Crowley,’ I mean I already knew that, ‘I’m in the mathematics department at Cal Tech and I’m the advisor to the priest’s quorum in the South Pasadena Ward!’ (Laughter) I’ve never forgiven him for that; it was absolute cruelty.

I don’t know whose decision it was, whether it had something to do with that or not, but I did not get into Cal Tech, which was good because I really would’ve hated it because it turned out I didn’t want to be a mathematician or a cosmologist; I wanted to be something else. So I decided to go to BYU.

And, I started off as a mathematics’ major, soon discovered that while I admired mathematicians I didn’t want to be one. In the meantime I had enrolled in a Greek history class. I loved that, absolutely loved it, so I switched over and majored in Greek. Came under the spell of Nibley of course.

I’d been reading Nibley for some years and for most–many of us involved in FARMS–Nibley is the guy who’s responsible for that. I mean, at some point or another we came under his spell and I’d have to say that ever since then I’ve been looking at his work and trying to do some of my own. I realize that Nibley is capable of error; he is not inerrant. This or that point will be wrong, many points will be wrong. A lot of the substance will be wrong. But I’m convinced that the pattern and the general approach are precisely right. I’ve just been fascinated in trying to carry on with some of the work that Nibley began.

I found BYU fascinating. It was a smorgasbord. I nearly, well, my principle was to sign up for a class and then immediately lose interest in the topic of the class because there were so many other things, so I spent time going to every lecture but the ones I was enrolled in; going to every seminar; attending every play; every lecture; reading all the books except the ones I needed to read. So it was a kind of a checkered undergraduate career. A’s and, well, I specialized in “vowels.” (Laughter)

Fortunately I was saved from myself by being called on a mission to Switzerland, which was a fascinating experience for me. I learned quite a few things in Switzerland. I became sort of an expert on dealing with critics. I don’t know why. Got drafted into all sorts of situations.

One experience, in particular; I remember tracting out a woman in Beatenberg, just above the Thunersee, Lake Thun, in Switzerland. A beautiful place up on a mountainside there and there’s a Protestant Bible home there, an evangelical biblical college there. Tracted this woman and the woman said, ‘My husband isn’t home yet but he should be home in about five minutes and then he’ll tell you where you’re wrong.’

I thought, ‘Oh this sounds interesting. Let’s stay around.’

Well he came in and he sat us at a big seminar table in his home and he brought out a stack of books, including Greek lexicons and all this sort of thing, and then he looked at us and sort of smirked and laughed, and said, ‘Well, you don’t know Greek do you? Ha-ha-ha!’ You know, going to nail these ignorant Mormon missionaries.

Well, I had by then transferred to a Greek major and so I pulled my little Greek New Testament out of my pocket which I just happened to have with me and I said, ‘Well it’s my specialty at the university.’

And I wish that I had had a camera because the smile faded from his face, he never brought up the Greek lexicons, no manner of Greek ever came up. Now he probably could’ve killed me because I’d only had, I think, first year Greek at that point. He probably was a lot better than I was but the thing was he didn’t know that he could kill me and that was what it was all about. It was about intimidation and bluffing. And I bluffed back (feeling quite nervous) and he folded.

Well I’ve learned since then that bluffing is a great deal of anti-Mormonism. People claiming to know things they don’t know, people trying to intimidate the yokel Mormons and sometimes you just have to stand up to them.

It was in Switzerland that I met some notable people; Stephen Ricks and I were missionary companions for example. We didn’t do a lot of useful missionary work I think; of course, I’m not sure whether in Switzerland that was even an option. (Laughter) But I remember some mornings getting up and knocking on a door and then we’d get into a conversation and it would be twenty minutes before we knocked on the next door. And then maybe there would be another door that morning. Meanwhile, we were having a fascinating conversation about this or that work of Nibley or ancient Egyptian temple ritual or something like that, and a friendship began with that that has gone on and on for a long time, so that for me coming to the Department of Asian and Near Eastern Languages at BYU and coming to FARMS was sort of like a perpetual missionary reunion.

We now have working with us, for example, our Director of Development, Ed Snow, who’s sitting on the back row back there who was also a missionary in Switzerland–so it’s like old home week. A lot of fun there.

I came back, graduated from BYU in Greek and decided I wanted to do something else. I had become very interested in Arabic and so I decided that I wanted to go over to the Middle East and study.

I applied to the American University in Cairo. I should’ve learned a lot about Egypt from the way this worked out. I applied to them, they didn’t respond. The deadline passed for my going over. I kept writing to them and saying, ‘Please, let me know if I’ve been accepted.’ No response.

I finally remember writing them a letter and saying, ‘If you’ve turned me down, I can handle it. Just tell me one way or the other.’ Well they never responded and finally I joined up with the BYU Semester Abroad program with Kent Brown, went over, worked out my own special sort of graduate program. We went to Egypt, I dropped in at the Admissions Office at the university there and they said, ‘Oh yeah, we accepted you. Here’s your letter.’ And it was dated that morning, they had written it out because I had called and said I was coming. (Laughter) And, it was accepting me to a term that had begun two months previously. Well this is very nice, thank you, great.

So I spent time in Jerusalem and in Jerusalem that was another great experience. I remember I was teaching the gospel doctrine class there in Jerusalem and, some of you know this story, when I was in high school lots of people did wholesome activities–I spent a lot of time studying guerilla warfare. I was very interested in guerilla warfare theory.

I read Che Guevara, and Mao Tse-tung, and Vo Nguyen Giap, and all the great Marxists theorists of guerilla warfare, and I didn’t really know why; I just found it really interesting. I told somebody this story that it later got me in trouble at BYU because I was involved in the Honors Program and they used to have us fill out an “Individual Curriculum Planning Form” where we had to tell what courses we were taking, what our career goal was and how the courses were preparing us for that. I hated filling out the forms; I’ve always had sort of an anarchistic streak in me–I’m something of a Libertarian. So I tended not to turn those in and that tended to make them angry, and so finally they were really on me once and I turned one in, I think it was not long after Patty Hearst had been arrested after her involvement with the Symbionese Liberation Army (some of you will remember that). She had given her career as “urban guerilla.”

Well I thought, ‘Now that’s a good job description.’ (Laughter) So, I turned in my form and said that my career goal was to become an urban guerilla and then I made up a list of courses that I was taking: ROTC courses, civil engineering bridge-design courses and things like that, and sent it in. And I discovered that the administration of the Honors Program at the time was severely humor impaired because I spent the better part of the next couple of weeks having interviews with various dignitaries at BYU. This was only the first of at least two times that that’s happened–the subsequent time as a faculty member, but I won’t get into that one. That’s when I first met Elder Holland. (Laughter)

But in Jerusalem it came in handy because I was teaching gospel doctrine there and we were getting to the section at the end of Helaman and the beginning of 3 Nephi where the Gadianton robbers are very active and it suddenly dawned on me that what you had in the case of the Gadianton robbers was an absolute textbook, by the book, example of guerilla warfare theory in practice both in their successes and in their failures. So this was the genesis of an article that I later put together on the Gadianton robbers as guerilla warriors which I still think is pretty good, actually. I think there’s a lot more going on there than we have normally seen and that it’s quite foreign to Joseph Smith’s own military ideas–which seemed to have involved dressing up and parading in front of the Nauvoo Legion on his horse, Charlie, and all of the romanticism that went along with, you know, growing up shortly after the Revolutionary War with fife and drum. There’s none of that in the Book of Mormon, it’s grim, realistic, un-heroic, un-romantic, un-chivalrous warfare in the Book of Mormon; quite unlike Joseph Smith’s possibly romantic notions.

Okay, came back, got married, dragged my wife off to Egypt–it seemed like a good way to test the waters, either the marriage would work or it wouldn’t, right? I learned later that she thought she was going to be going over and actually pounding out our laundry on rocks by the Nile, so there’s a certain heroism in her willingness to go.

But just before we left for Egypt, I remember we were at my brother’s house and we had missed his ward meeting and I decided to look up and see what other meetings were available for us to go to on a Sunday. I looked up in the directory and there was an entry for the Church of Jesus Christ of Ex-Latter-day Saints. I thought, ‘Now that’s interesting. I’ll give them a call.’ So they had a little message thing where you could leave a message on a recording and I did, expressing my opinion, by the way, of the way they’d listed themselves in the phone book. And that led to an interesting correspondence but it also led–it was maybe the first really clear illustration I’d had of the willingness of some anti-Mormons to, in my opinion, deceive; to package their materials in such a way as to seduce the unwary. I’ve seen plenty of illustrations since.

I should say that I’d already seen an illustration, too, of how bad some of them can be, on my mission. I had the occasion of visiting with the man who was by all accounts the ‘grand guru’ of anti-Mormons in Switzerland (whom I will not name, he’s departed, I learned during this last trip) but I had occasion to actually visit him in his home–the mission president being out of the country. A letter came to mission headquarters and I, being sort of free, decided that we would go out and visit him and I was amazed at how little he knew. This was the man who appeared on television, who appeared on the radio, who wrote articles about us in the newspapers–he had not even read Jesus the Christ, and yet he was the “great academic expert.” You learn a lot of things from those encounters.

We went off to Cairo. Now this has been the genesis of my real career–being involved with Islamic studies. There are a number of things that I could say about that, but let me just say this; there are a couple of things that I formulated while I was there. First of all, it is important to me in understanding other religions and expecting other people to approach mine the same way–that people put their best effort into really understanding what they’re looking at rather than forming judgments prior to understanding.

And I had an experience there that sort of brought this home to me. An Egyptian friend of mine, very articulate, well educated young fellow, a chemistry master’s student, took me off to visit one of his professors at the University of Cairo. We got to talking about religion, of course. The fellow wanted to know was I a Muslim? And I said, ‘No.’ And he said, ‘Why not?’ which always struck me as a rather awkward question in Egypt, and I decided to be affirmative about it and say, ‘Well I’m a Christian. I believe that Jesus is the Son of God and that He atoned for our sins.’

He said, ‘How can you possibly believe anything so stupid as that?’ He said, ‘How can you possibly believe that God has a son? Anybody with any brain in his head knows that God doesn’t have a son, first of all. Secondly, anybody with a brain in his head would know that God would never have to send His son to earth to buy Himself off and torture His son to death.’

And I said, ‘Well you know, put that way it doesn’t sound very rational.’ But that is in fact, somewhat, what I believe. That’s pretty much what I believe. The lesson I drew from that is simply this: that, first of all, it’s possible to caricature any other belief, even one that’s pretty serious and has a lot of merit to it, and make it look stupid.

The other thing is simply this, that there have been thousands and hundreds of thousands of brilliant people in the history of Christendom–Thomas Aquinas, Kirkegaard, people like that–who believe just about that; and so it seems to me if you can’t understand why intelligent people, spiritually sensitive, serious people, believe in something that clearly they did believe in, then the problem is with you more than it is with them. You haven’t ‘got it.’ You haven’t made a serious effort to try to understand why they would find that meaningful.

And, I’ve been really fond since then, learning of Krister Stendahl’s three points about understanding other religions; some of you have heard me talk about this before I think. Stendahl–this was a case where the Stockholm Temple was being constructed and there was some opposition as there often is to the building of the temple, there in Stockholm. And so Krister Stendahl, who was the former dean of the Harvard Divinity School but was at the time the Bishop of Stockholm, offered to come and speak and give a press conference and he asked if he could do it at the LDS stake center adjacent to the temple grounds.

Now I think a lot of people must have assumed that being Bishop of Stockholm, a Lutheran Bishop, he would come and denounce the temple although the choice of the stake center as a venue to do that was probably a little odd and disconcerting.

Well, when he got there, first of all he endorsed the building of the temple, he has lots of LDS friends and was more than willing to do this. But then he laid out three principles for dealing with other religions, which I found very instructive, and I may have even tried them on you here before. If so, I apologize, but they’re really worth repeating. They’re pretty obvious on one level and not so obvious on another.

The first principle was, if you want to learn about a religious faith, don’t go to its enemies, go to its adherents. Now that seems obvious to me but a lot of people violate that on a regular basis.

The second one was if you’re going to compare your faith to somebody else’s faith, don’t compare your best with their worst. It’s not fair to say for example, ‘Well we Christians have Mother Teresa and you have Osama bin Laden.’ That’s not quite fair. (Laughter) They have their Mother Teresa’s and we have our Osama’s. Every religion has bad people and every religion has good people and you should try to compare best with best.

The third one, the one that I find most interesting, is he says, ‘always leave room for what he called holy envy.‘ What he meant by that was you should always be willing to look at another religious faith and say, ‘What is it that they do really well? That they have that I really admire and that I would love to see incorporated into my own religious faith, practice or belief?’ And if you do that then interreligious dialogue becomes not so much a matter of being politically correct or being polite or preening yourself on how very tolerant you are. It becomes an occasion for learning and for growing from learning from other people. And I think that’s an extraordinarily valuable lesson to learn.

While I was in Cairo I discovered that, maybe what I’d not realized so fully before, that Mormonism was an extremely useful lens through which to view other religious traditions and through which to formulate questions.

I had the occasion, during a class with probably one of the most remarkable academic curmudgeons I’ve ever known, there was a professor there at the American University in Cairo, to write a paper on the akhi and futuwwa movement in medieval Islam. I won’t go into a long explanation of this, they’re kind of related to the labor guilds that grew up in later Islam. But they originated as religious mystical movements, Sufi movements really, and they had interesting rituals involving clothing–and, well I won’t get into all that, but they were very interesting for a number of reasons. They have temple aspects to me and they have guerilla warfare aspects. One group, who were devout mystics, also called themselves ‘robbers’ and they would hide up in the mountains and launch raids down on dissident groups and things like that–it was just really interesting on a lot of levels.

I wrote a paper on this and this curmudgeonly professor loved it but he wanted to know why I had devoted so much time and energy to what he regarded as the biggest non-subject in the history of Islam. I couldn’t tell him that I was already busy grinding my Islamicist/apologist axe and the things that really interested me about them were that they seemed so parallel to things that I could see in the Book of Mormon or in ancient history as I viewed it as a Latter-day Saint. That led eventually to some of the research I’ve done on, well, not only the Gadianton robbers but some unpublished things that relate to that topic that I hope to get to eventually.

It was also in Cairo that I met Bill Hamblin, for better or for worse, we’ve led each other on a continuing spiral downward ever since. (Laughter)

Came back to the United States and began graduate study at the University of California at Los Angeles. I had always been trained up till then in Sunni places, regarded Iran as the world’s largest open-air lunatic asylum, Shiites as basically insane; so it was only right that my advisor in graduate school be a Shiite. And so then I did my dissertation on a Shiite topic and not only Shiites but the weirdest of the Shiite’s groups, the Ismaili Shiites, who gave us the very word assassin–just a lovely group in so many ways. (Laughter)

That was an eye-opening experience for me. I had good friends in graduate school, some of you will laugh; one of my best friends with whom I had endless very inspirational gospel discussions, a fellow by the name of Todd Compton, was working on a degree in classics at the time. Terry Zinck was there working in Ebla Studies, still has some great things to publish on that.

While I was there I thought at one point, and this is relevant, there actually will be some substance to this talk I’m leading up to it, don’t worry. Or maybe I’ll run out of time and I can use it for next year, I’ll have a topic! (Laughter)

But I decided in one course that I wanted to do something on the Qur’an, I wanted to look at one particular passage in the Qur’an. You may remember, some of you, that Hugh Nibley wrote an article and published it in Revue de Qumran a number of years ago called “Qumran and the Companions of the Cave.” And I thought, well, okay, Islamic studies and Arabic was just a sideline for Nibley. I’ve heard for a long time (and so have you probably) that Nibley’s work really isn’t that good. That if you checked the footnotes it doesn’t hold up, you know. He wasn’t that good a scholar, he’s sloppy, and he’s careless, and you can’t trust him, and he’s just a dishonest Mormon apologist. So I thought (you know, which now I am) (Laughter). So, anyway…

But it seemed to me a good opportunity to look at that passage. There’s a passage in one of the Surahs of the Qur’an, one of the chapters, that talks about the Companions of the Cave and Nibley argued that this was a garbled recollection of the Dead Sea Scrolls community and he had cited a number of Arabic sources.

I thought it would be child’s play for an Arabist to check out Nibley’s footnotes and then expand beyond them to see if his argument really held up. Well, what really struck me about it was, when I started getting into the article, how many Arabic sources he had looked at; how much work he had done and how precisely right it was.

Now I can only say that it was right to a certain extent because I didn’t get through it all. I just thought, yeah, of course he wasn’t very good at this; this was just a hobby of his. Well, it may have been; it just shows how much better he is than I am. But, I found, in that case where I looked at a piece of serious Nibley writing, that he was right on every point that he made, that his footnotes were meticulously accurate, that he had really gotten the Arabic sources down, which really impressed me. And so now when people say, ‘Yeah, well he just misrepresents his sources.’ I suggest they go have a look at the (Inaudible) or something like that if they want to check it. They usually don’t.

One of the great events for me during that time at UCLA was the publication of Keith Norman’s doctrinal dissertation in 1980–well it wasn’t published, but distributed–with the catchy title (and some of you have heard me talk about this) “Deification and the Content of Athanasian Soteriology.” Isn’t that a lovely title? What this is about is the phrase that was so recurrent in early Christianity, essentially ‘God became man so that man could become God’ which goes back to earliest Christian times. We don’t know where it started, it’s already being cited in the first few centuries as an old statement that everybody knows and it turns out to have been fundamental to St. Athanasius of Alexandria who was the father of the Nicene Creed, effectively. And his arguments for the Nicene Creed were based on the need to keep that statement true, that ‘God became fully man so that man could become fully God.’

This was an amazing revelation to me. I had always thought up until then that the idea of exaltation was a wonderful doctrine but you wouldn’t find much evidence for it in early Christianity. It turned out, Keith Norman, LDS grad student at Duke, was able to show me that it’s all over the place.

And of course since then we’ve found a lot more–it is literally all over early Christianity. One of the greatest eye-opening intellectual revelations I have ever had was to see that and to realize that on this one, the Latter-day Saints win–now that’s just hands-down, we win.

Now people have told me, ‘Well your doctrine of deification is not exactly like that of the Early Christians.’ To which I usually respond, ‘Well your non-existent doctrine of deification is utterly unlike that of the Early Christians!’ (Laughter)

Well, this was an amazing thing for me. So that my dissertation actually became a dissertation on the topic of human deification in an eleventh-century neo-Platonic Arab philosopher; really obscure stuff. I won’t get into that, but this author was writing during a time when a ruler of Egypt was claiming–or at least deification was being attributed to him. This is the rise of the Druse movement and he was trying to combat that idea that a human could become like God. The topic naturally interested me.

There again, though, I was seeing Islam through an LDS lens. I mean, the problems–things jumped out as significant to me because of the very fact that I was a Latter-day Saint, so when I hear the charge that Latter-day Saints put on blinders and can’t see the world or that it restricts their intellectual curiosity, I just have to say, ‘That certainly hasn’t been true for me.’

I have found questions leaping into my awareness because of the point of view that I’m coming from. It has made looking at these topics extraordinarily exciting for me. It gets me in trouble sometimes.

That topic actually came to me when, just after I had actually taken a job at BYU. I hadn’t finished my dissertation yet. Truth be told, I hadn’t really decided what it was about yet. And I remember going to deliver a paper at a conference in Baltimore, the Middle East Studies Association, and I had writer’s block. About the only time I’ve ever had it; I’m normally capable of writing vast quantities of at least nonsensical prose very rapidly, but this time I just couldn’t come up with anything. On the plane, on the way out to Baltimore, I was feeling terrified. It got even worse when I arrived at my session–I still had nothing to say, I had no paper. This has never happened to me before or since, fortunately I was the third person on the program. There was a presenter from the University of Berlin and another one from Berkeley who spoke first and by the time they had finished the thesis of my dissertation had arrived. I had the idea, I got up and I spoke–I loved it because afterwards several people complimented me on the fact that I didn’t read my paper and I had made eye contact with them. (Laughter) I had no alternative; there was no paper!

But it was almost a kind of revelation, I think, that suddenly this whole thing just crystallized for me sitting there, panic stricken, in a session of the Middle East Studies Association in Baltimore.

But it got me in trouble later on. I was giving a paper based on it in a meeting in Paris and, talking about human deification and all this sort of thing, and a professor in the audience came up to me afterwards and said, ‘The leaders of your Church would be really interested in this.’

I thought, ‘What? I hadn’t said anything about Mormonism. This was pure Ismaili Shiite Islam from the eleventh century.’ Well it turns out he comes out skiing in Utah every year and he’d learned something about Mormon theology and knew something about this idea of human deification. I thought, ‘Well, drop that subject. I won’t bring that one up again. They’re on to me.’ So now I do other things.

But I was hired at BYU to teach Arabic and Islamic Studies–not hired as an apologist. I love to see accounts on the Internet of how much money I make from apologetics; I always get a kick out of that. I’m delighted to tell my wife. But I was actually hired to do Islamic studies, and I was delighted that at BYU I was offered immediately the chance to teach Islamic philosophy, which is not offered very often anywhere. But BYU is one of the places where, at least historically, has offered it. Until very recently, now that I’ve become a bureaucrat, I can’t teach the class just at the time when we’re producing the first textbooks–that’s the Islamic translation series that we’re doing–that would really make it a good class. It’s kind of frustrating; a catch-22.

But BYU is supportive in other ways. It’s given the opportunity, something I never would have expected, to launch the Islamic translation project which is the other side of my life; the real scholarly side of my life. Some of you are aware of that.

BYU has been unbelievably supportive in that. It has been a tremendous opportunity. We’re building relationships all around the world and we’ve been able to expand it beyond the Islamic Translation Series to a series of works on Moses Maimonides, the greatest rabbi of the Middle Ages; the Eastern Christian Text Series, which is just beginning. Something called the Library of the Christian East that I hope will be launched before the end of the year. Wonderful books; no trace of Mormonism in them, but a real contribution to world scholarship, I think, on those topics and I’m just so pleased that BYU and the Church have been so supportive of that. I have to pay tribute here to Elder Maxwell who was an absolute pillar of support in these projects from the very beginning. A wonderful, wonderful person who will be greatly missed.

One of the high points of my tenure at BYU was teaching a course for the Honors Program on Heavenly Ascensions with Bill Hamblin. That’s another topic that cries out for better attention. There are stories all around the world of human ascensions into the presence of the divine. The famous story of Mohamed’s Mirage (inaudible) and they are almost identical all around the world.

They have to do with ascending up through the various heavens, sometimes being asked to give answers and various very symbolic gestures and so on to ascend through the heavens; ascending into the presence of God or the gods who are always conceived of as anthropomorphic in these stories except in the spiritualized mystical accounts.

And often human deification at the summit of it and it has always seemed to me to have obvious echoes of certain things that we do and believe. My hope is to publish a collection of those ascension texts with annotations for a non-LDS audience, but I think Latter-day Saints will get the point.

The other great thing from my involvement, and this is where I think it might become interesting to you for the first time, is the opportunity of having become involved with FARMS after coming to BYU. FARMS was founded, of course as you know, by Jack Welch in California and then brought up to BYU.

Several of us had perceived the need for something like the Foundation for Ancient Research in Mormon Studies early on. I remember in Jerusalem the first time finding a copy of John Tvedtnes’ paper on “King Benjamin and the Feast of Tabernacles” in one of the files of the Jerusalem Branch and thinking, ‘My word, this thing ought to be circulated. What’s it doing here in mimeograph form in the Jerusalem Branch? Nobody will every see it here.’ I’m glad to say that it’s now been published.

I remember talking with Bill Hamblin whom I first met in Cairo and talking about the need for this kind of an organization, but it was really Jack Welch who got it going. Jack, I think, was raised up to do this and I don’t say that lightly; I actually believe it more than half seriously. Jack is just your typical Latter-day Saint attorney with a specialty in tax exempt foundations who also studied Greek and Latin and Ancient History at BYU and Oxford. I mean it seems to me that if he hadn’t–I mean he was designed to create FARMS, and so he did, and FARMS is a great thing, I think.

I got involved with FARMS very early on. I was advised strongly against it by the people who hired me. So much for the pressure I allegedly get from the Church and BYU leaders to do apologetics–they all told me, ‘Don’t do it, we’ll punish you if you do.’ I once asked one of the people telling me this, I said, ‘Look if I have free time, if I’ve done my Islamic studies stuff enough can I do some apologetics work on the side?’

‘No, it would be better if you didn’t.’

I said, ‘Well would you rather than I watched soap operas during the day?’

‘That would be better!’ (Laughter)

Well I’ve ignored them and so far have managed to keep my job. But I can assure you that getting into FARMS was not a mercenary step for me. I know that people who tend to believe this won’t believe any denial of it, but if there are any of you out there, please believe this: It was not in my financial interest to do FARMS. I did it just because I’m an obsessive compulsive and I really wanted to do it and I tend to do what I want to do and so I did.

But I remember once being on, I think it was Martin Tanner’s radio program. Martin, I don’t if you’re out there, but someone called in and said, ‘Well, you’re only in it for the money.’ And I said, ‘Well I’m not even getting my gas reimbursed for coming up to the radio station.’ And he just said, ‘You’re a liar’ and slammed the phone down. So, there’s no reasoning with people like that.

But FARMS, as I say, I think is a wonderful thing. People accuse us of being desperately out to defend a losing cause, that we’re trying to save the Church, you know, because we think we’re losing and we’re inventing desperate ad hoc rationalizations to save our bacon. Nothing could be further from the truth.

The attitude of those who come together to work in FARMS on the whole–there are, you know, we certainly do try to defend against arguments, but overwhelmingly the excitement of it all is that we’re just delighted at the things we see that we think are evidences for the divine calling of Joseph Smith, or things that allow us to deepen our understanding of the Book of Mormon, or other aspects of the gospel in ways that are just remarkable.

It’s not a desperate rearguard action–it’s the excitement of seeing the gospel in a new way. You know, calling someone up and saying, ‘Guess what I just found. Look at this. Listen to this. I mean does this put things in a new light or not?’ And over and over and over again we’ve found that our studies in ancient history just are suggesting all sorts of new paradigms and ways of understanding the gospel; and thing that, in our opinion, Joseph Smith could not possibly have known in any kind of plausible naturalistic way.

Most recently I’ll allude to something that’s in the news very much–we have the DNA issue. There are people who are saying, of course, that ‘DNA destroys the Book of Mormon.’ So our response has been to say, ‘Well not if you believe in a limited geography for the Book of Mormon. Not if you believe there were other people in the Americas.’

That changes the equation altogether. So now the argument has shifted off into a matter not so much of science, we all agree on the science to a large extent. The Latter-day Saint microbiologists and molecular biologists and geneticists and so on who are responding on this issue are not anti-science. But we’re saying if you have a limited geography and the Lehi group is a very small group then the science is essentially irrelevant, so it becomes an issue of exegesis, hermeneutics, interpretation of the Book of Mormon.

And so there are those who are now saying, ‘Well, once again you’re engaged in a desperate rearguard action to redefine the Book of Mormon, this limited geography hypothesis is a desperate reaction to the challenge of DNA.’ That’s absolute nonsense. The thing can be documented easily several decades prior to the discovery of the structure of DNA. You can argue, I think, in fact that Joseph Smith was already moving toward a limited geography thesis probably in 1842 or thereabouts. This has been around for a long, long time. It’s hardly a desperate reaction to Tom Murphy, whom Francis and James Watson had not even heard of when they found the structure of the DNA molecule. (Laughter)

This is just a question of knowing the history. The thing is documentable and provable; it’s been out there for a long time and it’s driven by the text, not by DNA and not by archaeology, but by reading the text.

But what are some affirmative things on Mormon studies that have come out under the auspices of FARMS or by people associated with FARMS–not always published by us. There are many things that I think are exciting.

I think Jordan Vajda’s thesis on the comparison of Mormon doctrines of exaltation with the ancient Christian doctrine of theosis or human deification is a remarkable thing as much for who said it as for what he says. I don’t know if all of you are familiar with this, Jordan Vajda–Father Vajda–worked on this thesis at the Graduate Theological Union in Berkeley and he actually explicitly refers to critics of the Church, he says, ‘You know, it’s not the Mormons who have a problem with this doctrine of human deification. It’s the people who did “The Godmakers” who have a problem because this doctrine somehow miraculously disappeared in most of Christendom and reappeared in nineteenth-century America with Joseph Smith and they’ve got to explain how that happened and they’ve got to explain why they don’t have it. They don’t have a doctrine of deification.’ Father Vajda has since joined the Church–he was a Dominican priest, he’s now a Latter-day Saint. That’s a remarkable piece and we’ve now published it.1

The recent book Echoes and Evidences of the Book of Mormon with a title which I passed on and still am mystified by; I don’t know what it means. I know what ‘evidences’ of the Book of Mormon are but I don’t what ‘echoes’ of the Book of Mormon are. Anyway, I once thought I did, and I approved the title. But it’s a marvelous collection of sort of state-of-the-art studies of some of the issues pertaining to Book of Mormon historicity. I highly recommend that one. And this is not a defensive mentality, this is one arguing that there’s a lot of good stuff out there that seems to support traditional claims.

One of the most exciting things I’ve seen recently not published under the auspices of FARMS but by people affiliated with FARMS is the work that David Paulsen has done on divine corporeality in “Harvard Theological Review”. Most recently, an article he did with Carl Griffin who actually does work for FARMS, he works for me particularly on the translation projects, in “Harvard Theological Review” on St. Augustine and the idea of divine corporeality. Remarkable stuff. There’s good evidence that early Christians believed that God had a body–that was a widespread belief. St. Augustine grew up as the son of a Saint, any of you from Santa Monica will know about his mother St. Monica. This was no ordinary Christian. Yet St. Augustine didn’t learn until he was fairly old and came under the influence of the neo-Platonic Bishop Ambrose of Milan, he didn’t learn until then that you could be a Christian and not believe that God had a body which seems to me to suggest what his mother was teaching him and what he thought was the traditional typical teaching of the Christian church–at least as he knew it. That suggests, in other words, that that kind of teaching was widespread.

Another book that I just want to recommend, really nothing to do with FARMS, pre-dates FARMS almost is one that’s already been mentioned, Richard Anderson’s book Investigating the Book of Mormon Witnesses I think is one of the greatest books ever written in defense of the Church and its claims. This is a classic. In fact I was re-reading it again in Sacrament meeting a few weeks ago and a neighbor of mine, Kent Jackson, happened to be sitting next to me and he said, he leaned over and he just said unbidden, he said, ‘Next to the scriptures, I believe that’s the most faith-promoting book in the history of the Church.’ Anyway, I’m not sure I disagree with that statement, so those of you who haven’t read it, I suggest that you go ahead and do so.

Now there are things happening, FARMS has morphed into something bigger–ISPART, the horribly named ‘Institute for the Study and Preservation of Ancient Religious Texts,’ which is doing great things: digitizing around the world in Beirut, in the Vatican, documents retrieved from the ruins of Herculaneum near Vesuvius as well as the translation projects–but I won’t get into that.

Another thing that’s relevant to concerns here is the FARMS Review, formerly the Review of Books on the Book of Mormon, or what I liked to call RoBotBoM, or the FARMS Review of Books. I think when Jack Welch invited me to edit this thing, to launch it, I don’t think he knew what he was getting into. I’ve created a monster, I think, and I’m delighted to have done so. I think Jack had in mind a series of little short reviews that would guide people to reading books and then they could throw it away. Well, I couldn’t see the point of that. I thought, ‘Who would ever want to buy it.’ It would be sort of like the Penguin Guide to Classical CDs, I never buy one. I go into the record store, find a copy, look up what I’m interested in buying, go buy that CD and put the book back on the shelf, right? Well I thought if you want people to actually read the Review, it’s got to have something in it that’s worth reading for its own sake.

And it started off that way in the very first issue when John Clark wrote a lengthy review with diagrams on Book of Mormon geography–still I think one of the most significant things published on the topic. The Review immediately began to take on critics of the Church. In this way it obviously is created somewhat in the image of its maker. (Laughter)

I have had a polemical streak every since I was a kid. You have to understand that I’m really a cuddly fellow. I’m not nearly as mean as my critics think, although I’m not sure that I mind them thinking that, you know–fear is good, or irritation at least.

But I grew up reading National Review. Some of you may know what that implies. I subscribed to National Review when I was thirteen; I kept the subscription going through my mission ever since then and then I also subscribed to the American Spectator which is even worse. And, one of my models was H.L. Mencken, so this maybe will make some sense to some of you to know where I’m coming from polemically–I enjoy a good spirited round of discussion and I don’t mind a little humor, but it’s often mistaken as being mean-spirited and nasty and there’s not a nasty bone in my little body.

But anyway, the FARMS Review has had an impact on the image of FARMS; there’s no question about that. People will dismiss all that FARMS does by saying, ‘Oh FARMS is nasty and vicious.’ Now, what they’re really referring to is actually not all of FARMS but the FARMS Review, and not all of the FARMS Review, but a few reviews in the history of the FARMS Review, and only a few portions of those few reviews–but it’s enough; if you can use that to dismiss the whole thing, well then, good.

But the FARMS Review, I think, has done a notable work. It has spoken the truth in some cases about operations that needed desperately to have the truth spoken about them. It has provided an avenue for responses to critics of the Church who just didn’t expect it. Sandra Tanner once said to an acquaintance of mine that if they had known that everything they wrote was going to be reviewed they would’ve done things a little differently. (Laughter)

I sometimes think what would’ve happened if there hadn’t been a venue for responding to certain books that are very critical about foundational claims of the Church–what if the Review didn’t exist? It does provide an opportunity to respond, to at least get that response on record.

Most recently I’m very, very proud of Issue 15-2 of the Review which I highly recommend to you if you haven’t had a chance to get it. I think it’s sold out back there, but this is one that deals intensively with DNA, with the Mountain Meadows Massacre and with Grant Palmer’s recent book.

I’ll just mention a couple of other things; I’ll come back to things that are on the horizon. Experiences, back to the really boring autobiographical parts–I’ve had the experience of spending time at other university campuses. I remember a National Endowment for the Humanities seminar at Berkeley devoted to the “The Great Chain of Being,” this idea of Arthur Lovejoy’s sort of hierarchy and the world from God down to the world. That was under the direction of Huston Smith. Some of you may be familiar with Huston Smith who wrote a really wonderful book called originally The Religions of Man, I think it’s called, and then in a more politically correct incarnation it’s now called The Great Religions. Marvelous book which does the kind of comparative religion that I’d like to see done.

Huston told me once that he has been criticized–he’s very proud of this–that he has been criticized by adherents of every religion for being partial to some other religion in that book. People have accused him of being a crypto-Jew, a partisan to Hinduism, partial to Islam, partial to Confucianism and so on, and he likes that, being accused of being biased in the direction of every one of those religions.

What it does for me is it gives you a sense of what it’s like to ‘be’ an adherent of one of those religions. For the first time, for me, Hinduism made some sense. I’d never been able to make any sense of it before. I was able to get involved with Huston in redoing his chapter on Islam in the most recent edition of that book and also to recruit him for the Encyclopedia of Mormonism, which I’m very proud of.

But the thing that struck me about that experience was how well Mormonism stood up among those world religions. There I was in this little NEH seminar out at Berkeley, there were about ten of us, and I was the only Latter-day Saint. I wasn’t there as a Latter-day Saint, I was there as an Islamicist, but there was a Buddhist and there was a Jesuit process theologian, and a Hindu, and a Platonist–a real live Platonist; I didn’t know they existed but there was one there. And, you know people from all those different backgrounds talking about all the great world religions. They all agreed on kind of a unified truth, the perennial tradition that’s behind all of them–and then there were the Mormons who didn’t belong. And I just, toward the end, I was beginning to see myself as sort of an anthropologist you know, just silently observing the natives of the perennial tradition. It was fascinating to me and Huston asked me the last day, ‘Well Dan, you’ve been kind of quiet lately. What do you think about all this?’ I said, ‘Well, I don’t believe any of it. All the things you say are part of the perennial tradition I reject. I mean we really do believe that God has a body and things like that which you see as folk religion.’

Even a couple of years later he caught me and said, ‘(inaudible) kind of a closet atheist in our group. Didn’t accept any of our doctrines.’ But what amazed me was how well Joseph Smith answered all the questions that we were agonizing over in that seminar. Here you have this unlearned New York farm boy, not trained, not well educated, not theologically learned and yet for many of the questions that they were raising, it seemed to me Joseph Smith had already provided answers or he had redefined the questions in such a way that they were non-problems. They didn’t exist as problems anymore and I thought that’s an amazing achievement for a guy who, according to Fawn Brodie, was just sort of making it up on the fly and never had a serious thought; it was just a joke on his parents that kind of got out of hand. That’s just not plausible to me–he did too good a job; it makes too much sense. Joseph holds up amazingly well.

Later I was able to do another such seminar at Princeton with John Gager, at Princeton, on religion and magic, and I might just mention this in passing. We were trying to find out whether you could construct a coherent definition of ‘magic’ that differentiated it from ‘religion.’ So you could say, ‘Well, that’s magic and this is religion.’ This is a live issue for a Latter-day Saint, especially a few years ago, and the upshot of this conference was that none of us there could formulate any kind of definition that really worked very well because it would catch certain things that you wanted to call ‘magic’ but then it would also catch the Roman Catholic mass or the Protestant doctrine of justification by faith. I mean, you just couldn’t do it, so we finally decided what I had already assumed was the case, that the way you distinguish religion and magic is ‘What I do is religion, what you do is magic.’ (Laughter) Magic is a term used to define religions I don’t like. And so that’s about where it stands.

But it was while I was there at Princeton I discovered an article on the consort of God in ancient Israelite tradition which led to an article, really the first of a trilogy, this one was on an Asherah which I located in 1 Nephi–the idea that there are traces of pre-exilic Israelite religious doctrine evident in 1 Nephi in ways that Joseph Smith could not possibly have guessed. I would like to see a criticism of that, I’ve never really gotten a serious one.

What’s going on right now? This might really be the only interesting part of the talk. Let me tell you what’s coming out in the next FARMS Review which went to press yesterday or today. Some really great things; there’s an essay by Nate Oman on secret combinations. There has been a claim made by Vogel and Metcalfe, particularly, that the term secret combinations uniquely refers in Joseph Smith’s environment to the Masons. And so, it’s a dead giveaway of the Book of Mormon’s origins in the conflicts of the late-1820s and Joseph Smith’s obsession with masonry.

And Nate has gone through legal materials, it helps to have been a student at Harvard Law School and have access to all that stuff in that law library there. He has gone through that material all over the place on Masonic context, something I already knew, but he’s documented it greatly.

A wonderful essay by Davis Bitton on how to spot an anti-Mormon book; reviews of Sally Denton’s book on the Mountain Meadows Massacre; and a review of Jon Krakauer’s book Under the Banner of Heaven which I was depressed to find all over Europe during this recent trip in two different German translations. It’s really selling well because, of course, it speaks to the European attitude about religion. Lou Midgley has a piece on Signature Books, “The Signature Books Saga,” you’ll love it. It’s just like the Old Norse!

Jim Allen has got a lengthy review on Grant Palmer’s book. Matt Roper and I have done something on Stan Larson’s book Quest for the Gold Plates which is a kind of quasi-biography of Thomas Stuart Ferguson and his apparent loss of faith in the Book of Mormon that I think has some interesting things to say.

There’s a book about due to come out on the Book of Abraham called Astronomy, Papyrus, and Covenant that I highly recommend. It’s got some very interesting materials on the astronomical portions of the Book of Abraham.

One of the most exciting things (and I’m almost done) is the Critical Text Project that Royal Skousen is working on. The next installment of that will be coming out fairly shortly. This is a landmark work. Absolutely essential to future research on the Book of Mormon and really testimony building in an interesting sort of way; frankly it’s going to account for all of the changes that occurred in the text taking that issue away from the poor Tanners because we found a lot more that they didn’t find. (Laughter) But what it does show is that the original manuscript to the Book of Mormon was consistent and coherent in really remarkable ways.

Royal will be able to talk about that at length and will. I think it puts the Book of Mormon on really solid footing for future studies; an absolutely essential work.

There’s work coming out on the apostasy, trying to look at the doctrine of the apostasy again in new ways. There’s a lot more competence in the Church nowadays in ancient history than there was in the days of James E. Talmage or earlier people who have written on the doctrine of the apostasy. A lot of people well trained in ancient history, the history of Christendom, the history of theology. And we see it in a little different light nowadays, so we’re trying to a more accurate notion of what we believe and what we don’t believe about apostasy.

I think some people will find it gratifying including some outside the Church but it doesn’t surrender any basic claim. It doesn’t surrender the need for a restoration but it does, I think, modify and modulate and moderate some of the claims we’ve historically made.

More work on theosis. A couple of really interesting pieces that I’m hoping will be out within the next year or so on theosis–the doctrine of human deification.

The thing I’m working on right now is my personal passion, something that began as a small book, turned into a large book. I’ve now recast it as two books which are becoming two really big books. It may never be finished. I call it tentatively “The Reasonable Leap Into Light: A Book for Skeptics” and it’s an attempt to show that belief in (a) theism, and (b) Christian theism, (c) Latter-day Saint Christian theism; that belief is reasonable. It’s rational. Not to prove it, but to argue that it’s rational to make that jump. Beyond that it has to be done on a spiritual basis, but it’s rational intellectually, on an intellectual basis.

Let me just close by bearing testimony explicitly about some things. I’ve been teaching gospel doctrine class this last while and I love to do it. It’s my favorite calling in the Church. When they called me to it they were very apologetic and since I had had so many terrible thoughts of the alternatives I was absolutely delighted and had to kind of ‘pretend’ that I, ‘Oh yes, well I’d be willing to do it.’ (Laughter) But you know, rereading the Book of Mormon in that way, it’s different than reading it on your own to me and I am dazzled, as I always am when I read the Book of Mormon, by how very, very deep and well structured and brilliantly put together it is.

I am just baffled when I read people who say or hear people who say, ‘Well there’s nothing to it. It’s stupid, it’s just; there’s nothing there.’ Maybe I’m imagining things but I have a lot of experience studying texts carefully. That’s what I’ve done for a living, that’s what I’ve done in all of my education and the Book of Mormon stands up in good company. It does very well. I’ll just leave it at that.

I’m going through another period of what has been a year-long love affair with the Book of Mormon, I’m dazzled by the book. I cannot believe that anyone can seriously argue that Joseph Smith simply made it up. That is simply not plausible to me, I cannot accept it; I don’t have enough faith or credulity to believe that. I have to fall back on the more simple religious explanation for the Book of Mormon.

Joseph Smith’s character–the more I’ve read about him, the more I’ve read in Dean Jessee’s collections of materials and so on, the more transparently undeniable it is to me that Joseph Smith was a sincere man who really was trying to do the will of God. He doesn’t argue that he did it perfectly, nobody ever has. He doesn’t argue that he didn’t have flaws, he would never have claimed that. But his transparent sincerity is apparent to me on every page. I cannot get away from it. If I’m any kind of judge of human character, I see an honest, sincere man speaking from those pages of those reproduced letters which were not written for publication. He wasn’t pretending to anybody.

Finally, the vision of the gospel, the plan of salvation, remains for me astonishing. The only thing I can compare it to in an odd sort of way–and it’s nothing like it–but I remember reading Hans Jonas’ book called The Gnostic Religion at one point where he laid out the Gnostic myth and it was this vast cosmic thing and it seemed to me that that was the only thing I’d ever seen that was comparable to the Mormon plan of salvation. It didn’t hold up well, I don’t think it’s coherent but it’s dramatic; it’s big. This is a big canvas.

The plan of salvation is like that for me; it is absolutely exhilarating to me. I cannot imagine anybody saying that Mormonism is small or narrow. Latter-day Saints may see it small and narrow, we may force ourselves into a small and narrow viewpoint–that’s what humans often do–but the gospel is huge. The gospel is immense and I agree with B.H. Roberts we haven’t begun to plumb its depths, we haven’t begun to appreciate how very big and expansive and liberal in the good sense of the word it is.

And I just want to bear you my testimony the gospel is true. The Book of Mormon is true, Joseph Smith was a prophet, The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints is the Lord’s Church. The gospel is true, this was not something that just was made up in nineteenth-century New York or in nineteenth-century America. It cannot be explained that way; I cannot buy that. I bear you my testimony that it’s true, in the name of Jesus Christ. Amen.

Notes

1 Jordan Vajda, “Partakers of the Divine Nature”: A Comparative Analysis of Patristic and Mormon Doctrines of Divinization. Provo, Utah: The Foundation for Ancient Research and Mormon Studies (FARMS), 2002, Occasional Papers, Volume 3.

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