I found the first six and a half minutes of the following video very interesting, especially in light of Harold Camping's recent failed rapture prediction.
In the video (starting about 1:30), Chris describes how two separate people-- one of them his mother-- received revelations indicating that his brother was going to be raised from the dead. Not surprisingly, it didn't happen. Years later, Chris asked his mom if she remembered when Jesus told her that his brother would be raised from the dead. She did not. Chris says, "That was a little bit earth shattering. Here's Jesus talking to my mom, and she didn't remember. And I thought, 'Why would you forget that? Unless... we always do that. Maybe we're always forgetting those moments that contradict, just so that we can maintain our faith.' And then I started finding memories, coming back to me."
Humans really do have a remarkable capacity for self-deception. We're selective not only in what we remember, but also in what we perceive and how we make sense of things. It makes one wonder: in twenty years, what will Harold Camping's followers remember about May 21, 2011?
Tuesday, May 24, 2011
How a Temple Sect Became a Temple Religion
Part 2 of a 2-part review of Devery S. Anderson, The Development of LDS Temple Worship, 1846-2000: A Documentary History (Salt Lake City: Signature Books, 2011).
Whatever its limitations, Anderson’s book tells an important story—namely, the story of how a temple sect became a temple religion.
One aspect of this transformation was the process sociologists refer to as the “routinization of charisma.” The worship practices of new religions are typically “charismatic”—that is, energetic, improvised, and non-institutional. Over time, however, leaders begin to suppress or institutionalize these charismatic practices in order to preserve the stability and respectability of the institution. The first chapter of Anderson’s book—containing documents from the Nauvoo period—reveals Mormon temple worship in its initial, charismatic phase. There are some formulaic ordinances, of course, but there are also intimate, improvised meetings in which people speak in miraculous tongues, prophesy, see visions, bless their children, sing hymns, shout “Hosanna,” and feast on wine, cakes, and pies. This is temple worship directed less by prescribed policy than by the immediate inspiration of the Spirit—more like a Pentecostal revival than a formal liturgy. In subsequent chapters of the volume, however, we see a gradual codification and formalization of temple worship. The temple ceremonies become increasingly scripted, standardized, and sanitized. As members and temple workers raise questions about points of practice, the General Authorities respond by formulating authoritative policies and handbooks of instructions. By the modern period, the temple experience is essentially identical every day, everywhere in the world.
Another aspect of the transformation from sect to religion was the de-emphasis of the idea of “gathering” to Utah. In the early Utah period, Brigham Young taught that there could be no sealings outside of Utah, because that would diminish the importance of the gathering. The urge to “gather” was linked to the Church’s sense that the apocalypse was imminent; Utah had been divinely designated as a place of “refuge” from the coming calamities. As the Church developed into a worldwide bureaucracy, however, the early apocalyptic urgency was supplanted by a program of long-term institutional expansion. No longer was the Church a small remnant, needing to be gathered out of the world. Instead, it was a sprawling movement with vast resources and global ambitions. Accordingly, the Church began to bring temples to the people rather than the other way around. At one point Church leaders even contemplated building a special ship to serve as a “sailing temple,” which could travel from port to port in countries where no permanent temple had yet been established. Temple-building accelerated in the 1980s, and then again after 1996, when Church leaders decided to reduce the size of new temples so they could be financed in larger numbers.
Anderson's book, then, documents the maturation of LDS worship practices during the difficult transition from a small, charismatic sect to a global, fully institutionalized religion. This is a story that will interest the sociologist as well as the historian, because it's really the story of every religion, not just Mormonism.
Whatever its limitations, Anderson’s book tells an important story—namely, the story of how a temple sect became a temple religion.
One aspect of this transformation was the process sociologists refer to as the “routinization of charisma.” The worship practices of new religions are typically “charismatic”—that is, energetic, improvised, and non-institutional. Over time, however, leaders begin to suppress or institutionalize these charismatic practices in order to preserve the stability and respectability of the institution. The first chapter of Anderson’s book—containing documents from the Nauvoo period—reveals Mormon temple worship in its initial, charismatic phase. There are some formulaic ordinances, of course, but there are also intimate, improvised meetings in which people speak in miraculous tongues, prophesy, see visions, bless their children, sing hymns, shout “Hosanna,” and feast on wine, cakes, and pies. This is temple worship directed less by prescribed policy than by the immediate inspiration of the Spirit—more like a Pentecostal revival than a formal liturgy. In subsequent chapters of the volume, however, we see a gradual codification and formalization of temple worship. The temple ceremonies become increasingly scripted, standardized, and sanitized. As members and temple workers raise questions about points of practice, the General Authorities respond by formulating authoritative policies and handbooks of instructions. By the modern period, the temple experience is essentially identical every day, everywhere in the world.
Another aspect of the transformation from sect to religion was the de-emphasis of the idea of “gathering” to Utah. In the early Utah period, Brigham Young taught that there could be no sealings outside of Utah, because that would diminish the importance of the gathering. The urge to “gather” was linked to the Church’s sense that the apocalypse was imminent; Utah had been divinely designated as a place of “refuge” from the coming calamities. As the Church developed into a worldwide bureaucracy, however, the early apocalyptic urgency was supplanted by a program of long-term institutional expansion. No longer was the Church a small remnant, needing to be gathered out of the world. Instead, it was a sprawling movement with vast resources and global ambitions. Accordingly, the Church began to bring temples to the people rather than the other way around. At one point Church leaders even contemplated building a special ship to serve as a “sailing temple,” which could travel from port to port in countries where no permanent temple had yet been established. Temple-building accelerated in the 1980s, and then again after 1996, when Church leaders decided to reduce the size of new temples so they could be financed in larger numbers.
Anderson's book, then, documents the maturation of LDS worship practices during the difficult transition from a small, charismatic sect to a global, fully institutionalized religion. This is a story that will interest the sociologist as well as the historian, because it's really the story of every religion, not just Mormonism.
Monday, May 23, 2011
An Inoffensive History of Temple Worship
Part 1 of a 2-part review of Devery S. Anderson, The Development of LDS Temple Worship, 1846-2000: A Documentary History (Salt Lake City: Signature Books, 2011).
Devery S. Anderson’s new documentary history of temple worship represents an important step forward for Mormon Studies, but it also has certain limitations.
Perhaps the book’s most important contribution is that it has broken the ice on this topic. Anderson takes a very “safe” approach that will be inoffensive and unobjectionable to Mormon readers: he tells the story almost entirely through the lens of official Church documents and the writings of General Authorities. He is also careful in his introduction to draw attention primarily to the banal rather than the scandalous aspects of the collection. In so doing, he circumvents the standard Mormon taboos against talking about the temple, and hopefully paves the way for future researchers to be somewhat more daring in their approaches to the topic.
One practical consequence of the focus on official documents, however, is that the book is really a history of temple policies rather than temple worship. Topics covered include the construction of temples, the rules and regulations governing the ceremonies, and the garments and formulae used. The volume is not a history of how the ceremonies were received or interpreted, or what they meant to the people who experienced them. This suggests that there is much work yet to be done on LDS temple worship from the perspective of popular or reception history. Anderson’s book could serve as an important baseline for such a study.
A more serious problem with the focus on official, publicly-available sources is that there are some important details and developments that these sources simply do not discuss. For example, only one document in the collection mentions the “sectarian preacher” character in the dramatic portion of the old endowment. Mention of the penalties is similarly sparse. More is said about the teaching of the Adam-God doctrine in the lecture at the veil, but not much. The sparseness of the sources is especially problematic for the most recent period; not a word is said about the changes to the endowment in 1990. Distasteful though the genre of anti-Mormon “temple exposé” literature may be, Anderson’s volume will not render it obsolete. Historians will still have to consult the exposés for many details about the ceremonies.
Click here to read "How A Temple Sect Became a Temple Religion (Review of 'LDS Temple Worship', Part 2)."
Devery S. Anderson’s new documentary history of temple worship represents an important step forward for Mormon Studies, but it also has certain limitations.
Perhaps the book’s most important contribution is that it has broken the ice on this topic. Anderson takes a very “safe” approach that will be inoffensive and unobjectionable to Mormon readers: he tells the story almost entirely through the lens of official Church documents and the writings of General Authorities. He is also careful in his introduction to draw attention primarily to the banal rather than the scandalous aspects of the collection. In so doing, he circumvents the standard Mormon taboos against talking about the temple, and hopefully paves the way for future researchers to be somewhat more daring in their approaches to the topic.
One practical consequence of the focus on official documents, however, is that the book is really a history of temple policies rather than temple worship. Topics covered include the construction of temples, the rules and regulations governing the ceremonies, and the garments and formulae used. The volume is not a history of how the ceremonies were received or interpreted, or what they meant to the people who experienced them. This suggests that there is much work yet to be done on LDS temple worship from the perspective of popular or reception history. Anderson’s book could serve as an important baseline for such a study.
A more serious problem with the focus on official, publicly-available sources is that there are some important details and developments that these sources simply do not discuss. For example, only one document in the collection mentions the “sectarian preacher” character in the dramatic portion of the old endowment. Mention of the penalties is similarly sparse. More is said about the teaching of the Adam-God doctrine in the lecture at the veil, but not much. The sparseness of the sources is especially problematic for the most recent period; not a word is said about the changes to the endowment in 1990. Distasteful though the genre of anti-Mormon “temple exposé” literature may be, Anderson’s volume will not render it obsolete. Historians will still have to consult the exposés for many details about the ceremonies.
Click here to read "How A Temple Sect Became a Temple Religion (Review of 'LDS Temple Worship', Part 2)."
Thursday, May 19, 2011
20% of Americans Believe the Second Coming Will Occur in Their Lifetimes
Voice of America reported yesterday that "20 percent of Americans believe that Jesus' Second Coming will happen in their lifetimes," which inspired me to draw the following comic (click to enlarge):
Tuesday, May 10, 2011
Does Civility Mean Silence?
I recently attended a lecture by Dr. Richard Bushman on Joseph Smith's golden plates. One point Bushman made that really struck home for me was that the golden plates are the hinge on which the infamous prophet-fraud dichotomy turns. It seems undeniable from the historical record that Joseph Smith had some kind of physical artifact under a cloth that he claimed was a stack of golden plates. This is very difficult for the non-believer in Mormonism to explain except as some kind of "fraudulent" prop or fabrication. The physicality of the golden plates prevents the skeptic from classing Joseph Smith with other sincere-but-mistaken visionaries such as Ellen G. White or Mother Ann Lee. Some more nefarious explanation is required.
During the question and answer session after Richard's talk, I raised my hand and asked what, then, is the way forward for believing and unbelieving scholars who want to study the life and mind of Joseph Smith without making enemies of each other. Are we forever condemned to speak at cross-pruposes and to give each other offense whenever this subject is broached? Richard's response was that the way forward is to treat each other with civility. If we are civil and respectful of each other, then no one will be offended.
This call for civility is a place to start, but does not fully satisfy me. The problem is that I'm not entirely sure what civility means in this case. Does it mean that we disagree without shouting at each other? Does it mean that we express our differences without thinking less of each other? Or is something else required?
A wise man once said, "Some things that are true are not very useful." We might extend this dictum: "Some things that are true are not very civil." We all keep silent about certain things in order to keep the peace with the ones we love. We filter our thoughts constantly: "She looks like she's gained weight." "Man, his wife is looking hot today!" "Their house looks like it hasn't been cleaned in months!" It would be a disaster if everything that crossed our minds came out of our mouths. Sometimes, civility means silence.
And this brings me to the question that has been weighing on my mind of late. Is it really possible for a scholar who disbelieves the claims of Joseph Smith to express his views in a "civil" manner? I certainly think it is possible to argue for the "fraud" thesis in a way that will be inoffensive to some Mormons, but the problem is that scholars don't really get to choose their audiences. Any book or article a scholar produces is bound to be read by at least a few who experience any contradiction of the foundational truths of Mormonism as an attack upon themselves, their families, and their faith. So does civility, in this case, mean silence? I used to think not, but in my old age I'm increasingly beginning to think so. Maybe I'm going soft. I'm interested to hear your thoughts in the comments.
During the question and answer session after Richard's talk, I raised my hand and asked what, then, is the way forward for believing and unbelieving scholars who want to study the life and mind of Joseph Smith without making enemies of each other. Are we forever condemned to speak at cross-pruposes and to give each other offense whenever this subject is broached? Richard's response was that the way forward is to treat each other with civility. If we are civil and respectful of each other, then no one will be offended.
This call for civility is a place to start, but does not fully satisfy me. The problem is that I'm not entirely sure what civility means in this case. Does it mean that we disagree without shouting at each other? Does it mean that we express our differences without thinking less of each other? Or is something else required?
A wise man once said, "Some things that are true are not very useful." We might extend this dictum: "Some things that are true are not very civil." We all keep silent about certain things in order to keep the peace with the ones we love. We filter our thoughts constantly: "She looks like she's gained weight." "Man, his wife is looking hot today!" "Their house looks like it hasn't been cleaned in months!" It would be a disaster if everything that crossed our minds came out of our mouths. Sometimes, civility means silence.
And this brings me to the question that has been weighing on my mind of late. Is it really possible for a scholar who disbelieves the claims of Joseph Smith to express his views in a "civil" manner? I certainly think it is possible to argue for the "fraud" thesis in a way that will be inoffensive to some Mormons, but the problem is that scholars don't really get to choose their audiences. Any book or article a scholar produces is bound to be read by at least a few who experience any contradiction of the foundational truths of Mormonism as an attack upon themselves, their families, and their faith. So does civility, in this case, mean silence? I used to think not, but in my old age I'm increasingly beginning to think so. Maybe I'm going soft. I'm interested to hear your thoughts in the comments.
Claremont Journal of Mormon Studies, 1/1
If you follow the Mormon blogosphere at all, you may already be aware of the Claremont Journal of Mormon Studies (free PDF here, print version for $5.92 here). This is a new student-run journal put out by the Mormon Studies Student Association here at Claremont Graduate University. It was gorgeously designed by David Golding, who even registered a proprietary font for it. He and his co-editor Loyd Ericson did a fantastic job putting together the first issue.
The issue opens with an editor's introduction by Loyd Ericson, in which he asks, "Where Is the 'Mormon' in Mormon Studies?" Loyd's essay is a celebration of the potential breadth and diversity of Mormon Studies, and provides a useful barometer of the editorial spirit of the CJMS. The editors have a genuine desire to be as inclusive and methodologically permissive as they can be without compromising Claremont's high academic standard.
The next article in the issue is an essay by yours truly, titled "The Inspired Fictionalization of the 1835 United Firm Revelations". This is probably the most intrinsically interesting piece of writing I've published to date. It's about how Joseph Smith altered some revelations about modern persons and events in order to make them appear to be ancient revelations to the patriarch Enoch. I argue that although this was done mainly for practical reasons, the changes also had a powerful mystical meaning for Smith and his followers. I wrote the essay shortly after purchasing Volume 1 of The Joseph Smith Papers: Revelations and Translations, and I daresay mine is one of the first published articles to make systematic use of that important volume.
The third piece in the issue is a paper by Jordan Watkins titled, "The Great God, the Divine Mind, and the Ideal Absolute: Orson Pratt's Intelligent-Matter Theory and the Gods of Emerson and James". Watkins contributes to a growing literature that situates early Mormon thought against the backdrop of early American Romanticism. This paper might be described as a case study in comparative panentheisms, with Orson Pratt and Ralph Waldo Emerson marking out two ends of a spectrum of theological possibilities. Emerson was an idealist who considered a unified divine Mind to be the source of all the pluralities of the material universe, whereas Pratt was an empiricist who considered the unified divine Mind to be an emergent property of an infinite number of self-existent intelligent atoms. Watkins then uses the empirical pragmatist William James, who leaned toward something similar to Pratt's view, to show the intellectual power and respectability of Pratt's position. Despite their different ontologies, Watkins finds that Pratt's and Emerson's Gods functioned in similar ways and possessed similar attributes.
The fourth and final essay in the volume is Joseph Spencer's "Prolegomena to Any Future Study of Isaiah in the Book of Mormon." Spencer argues that understanding the use of Isaiah in the Book of Mormon is central to understanding the message of the Book of Mormon itself. He finds that exegesis of Isaiah features prominently at each of the Book's major "narrative hinges," and argues that in each case Isaiah is used to present a particular interpretation of the baptismal covenant. These are important observations, though after page 62 his presentation was guided by some assumptions about the order of the Book of Mormon's composition that unbelieving scholars such as myself will be unable to accept (see here). Spencer addresses this problem by claiming (taking a cue from Grant Hardy) to be discussing the Book's self-presentation rather than the author's intent, but I can't help but feel that from an unbeliever's perspective this sort of analysis is about as useful as fan fiction or in-universe commentary. I think the Hardy approach suffers from the chief pitfall of the New Criticism: it treats the text as autonomous, as if it can be studied without reference to an author or group of readers. Those looking to build bridges between believing and unbelieving scholars would do better to adopt a phenomenological or reader-response approach of the sort advocated by Terryl Givens.
In any case, I daresay that the first issue of the CJMS was a resounding success. I strongly encourage all you students out there to submit pieces for the next issue. Let's help David and Loyd make the second issue even better than the first!
The issue opens with an editor's introduction by Loyd Ericson, in which he asks, "Where Is the 'Mormon' in Mormon Studies?" Loyd's essay is a celebration of the potential breadth and diversity of Mormon Studies, and provides a useful barometer of the editorial spirit of the CJMS. The editors have a genuine desire to be as inclusive and methodologically permissive as they can be without compromising Claremont's high academic standard.
The next article in the issue is an essay by yours truly, titled "The Inspired Fictionalization of the 1835 United Firm Revelations". This is probably the most intrinsically interesting piece of writing I've published to date. It's about how Joseph Smith altered some revelations about modern persons and events in order to make them appear to be ancient revelations to the patriarch Enoch. I argue that although this was done mainly for practical reasons, the changes also had a powerful mystical meaning for Smith and his followers. I wrote the essay shortly after purchasing Volume 1 of The Joseph Smith Papers: Revelations and Translations, and I daresay mine is one of the first published articles to make systematic use of that important volume.
The third piece in the issue is a paper by Jordan Watkins titled, "The Great God, the Divine Mind, and the Ideal Absolute: Orson Pratt's Intelligent-Matter Theory and the Gods of Emerson and James". Watkins contributes to a growing literature that situates early Mormon thought against the backdrop of early American Romanticism. This paper might be described as a case study in comparative panentheisms, with Orson Pratt and Ralph Waldo Emerson marking out two ends of a spectrum of theological possibilities. Emerson was an idealist who considered a unified divine Mind to be the source of all the pluralities of the material universe, whereas Pratt was an empiricist who considered the unified divine Mind to be an emergent property of an infinite number of self-existent intelligent atoms. Watkins then uses the empirical pragmatist William James, who leaned toward something similar to Pratt's view, to show the intellectual power and respectability of Pratt's position. Despite their different ontologies, Watkins finds that Pratt's and Emerson's Gods functioned in similar ways and possessed similar attributes.
The fourth and final essay in the volume is Joseph Spencer's "Prolegomena to Any Future Study of Isaiah in the Book of Mormon." Spencer argues that understanding the use of Isaiah in the Book of Mormon is central to understanding the message of the Book of Mormon itself. He finds that exegesis of Isaiah features prominently at each of the Book's major "narrative hinges," and argues that in each case Isaiah is used to present a particular interpretation of the baptismal covenant. These are important observations, though after page 62 his presentation was guided by some assumptions about the order of the Book of Mormon's composition that unbelieving scholars such as myself will be unable to accept (see here). Spencer addresses this problem by claiming (taking a cue from Grant Hardy) to be discussing the Book's self-presentation rather than the author's intent, but I can't help but feel that from an unbeliever's perspective this sort of analysis is about as useful as fan fiction or in-universe commentary. I think the Hardy approach suffers from the chief pitfall of the New Criticism: it treats the text as autonomous, as if it can be studied without reference to an author or group of readers. Those looking to build bridges between believing and unbelieving scholars would do better to adopt a phenomenological or reader-response approach of the sort advocated by Terryl Givens.
In any case, I daresay that the first issue of the CJMS was a resounding success. I strongly encourage all you students out there to submit pieces for the next issue. Let's help David and Loyd make the second issue even better than the first!
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