Thorns of Glory, page 26
Jacobah shook with fury. “So that he would help rescue you, you ungrateful—!”
“Silence, Lamanite!” It was Ammara. “Not a moment passes that you do not contemplate betraying us all to your god-king, Eagle-Sky-Jaguar!”
“QUIET! Stop! Mother! No more!” Lehi’s cheeks were streaked with tears. “Pleeease! Everyone stop talking! Understand what’s happening. No one will speak again until we pass through the slot. I’m begging you. All of you! Not another word!”
Our anger didn’t evaporate. Emotions remained on a knife edge. At least our tongues stopped wagging. Something about the desperation in Lehi’s voice produced the required effect. Our hearts raced, passions seethed, but again we traipsed onward. Lehi was reluctant to face away from us and keep leading our group, not trusting that our eagerness to brawl had been fully pacified.
Mary shivered like a leaf, from the cold and from lingering tension. Jesse’s legs were so numbed he could hardly drag them over submerged stones. I positioned myself under Jesse’s right arm, despite the pain I knew it would cause to his shoulder. He winced but endured. There was no other way to proceed.
I continued to perceive shadows under the shelf. Continued to hear my voice in the void.
You’ve lost, Harrison Hawkins. Lost your only opportunity to find peace. Lost her to him. Lost everything. Lost everything. Lost everything.
A broken record. I did not reply. Not even a snarky remark like, “I still got m’ good looks!” I quashed any temptation to make a retort, annihilated the words before they could form in my head, which I suppose isn’t really possible—thoughts were like lightning strikes—but by heaven and earth, I tried.
I did my best not to glance into the darkness beneath the ledges. This, too, was impossible. I sort of defocused my eyes. Half of the time I likely appeared cross-eyed, but I think I succeeded, mostly, except when the slot presented some rugged obstacles, like a half-frozen waterfall. It was a six-foot climb. Our company progressed at a snail’s pace. This gave the voices and shadows more time to splutter curses, impart additional torments. Still, we obeyed the pleas of Moroni’s son. No one uttered another word. This clearly frustrated the forces that haunted this place. They harangued us worse. At least, they harangued me more viciously. I couldn’t say what was happening inside the minds of my companions.
Steadily, the voids on either side became shallower, less dominating. The caverns’ back walls were visible below the shelves. I stole a glance and confirmed that walls of ice were being replaced by stone. Ice was also disappearing in the stream. At last, the stream itself started shrinking. Fewer springs caused the rocks to weep, and the current was reduced to a trickle, then random puddles in the pockets between rocks. Moreover, as the water and air warmed, moss and muck flourished anew. Ferns and vines—the typical vegetation of Cumorah—hung from the cliffs and issued colorfully from gaps and crevices. Life was returning to the narrow canyon.
As the slot fell farther and farther behind us, the experience, the memories of what we’d said and the vitriol expressed to one another, felt increasingly surreal. Again, I suppose I’m speaking only for myself. Embarrassment was the best word I could think of to describe the sensation that replaced the anger. No urgency to tear out someone’s jugular, but I didn’t want to look anyone in the eyes either. What had taken place, what was said and felt, seemed like a mingling of truths and lies. The question was could the two be effectively separated? Should we try to separate them? Or just . . . let them go?
“Harry, please,” said Jesse. “My feet are warming. I can feel them. I can walk better. You’re making my shoulder hurt like the demon!”
I came out from under his arm and balanced the sling against his midriff. Mary alone continued to assist him. Her teeth no longer chattered. She smiled at me as I paused to let her and Jesse go on ahead. It was an odd smile. Not phony, exactly, but not . . .
I took several deep, healing breaths. My muscles were as tense as piano wire. A strange hurt burned in the pit of my stomach. Overreacting. You’re overreacting. It was my voice now. That is, it was the voice of my own thoughts. For some reason, it was no less unsettling than the illusory voice from the slot.
A portion of that feeling mollified as Lehi pointed ahead. “That’s the opening. It’s over. We made it through.”
It was weird hearing these words, listening to his boyish tone. He’d been the wisest of us all. I’ll freely admit the son of Moroni had saved us. Saved his sister and mother. Saved us all.
Jacobah studied the canyon’s egress. His steps grew cautious. He asked Lehi, “What will we see when we emerge? What kind of terrain?”
“Open,” Lehi replied. “For a span, anyway. Afterward, we enter forest and foliage and climb for another span.”
“How open?” asked Jacobah. “How visible will we be? I mean, to those on the slopes below or ridges above?”
Lehi hesitated, catching Jacobah’s meaning. He admitted, “Open. We’ll have to hurry to reach the forest.”
Jacobah looked at me. “Arm yourself, Harry. We’ll have to do what we can to keep low and out of sight.”
It entered my head to say, I thought I was unworthy of my weapon. As soft as a mushroom. A liability. I did not say it. I wasn’t even close to saying it. But it entered my head.
Part of what Jacobah might have once expressed was perfectly true. I was soft, especially at this moment. Mentally soft. I wasn’t thinking straight. I felt I was a liability. All I needed to remind me of this was to glance at Mary—the woman I thought I loved—supporting the weight of Jesse, the orphan from Jerusalem, with her arm wrapped around his shoulder.
Wrapped around the shoulder of . . . my friend.
Notes to Chapter 9:
Generally, a chapter note will discuss pertinent subjects associated with any research that might have helped formulate elements of the plot of a given chapter. For Chapter 9 I considered discussing the mystical intimacies of Central America to illuminate the physical realities of the “slot,” especially modern and pre-Columbian mythologies and legends. However, much of my description can be correlated with ancient mythology from many parts of the world. In truth, much of this chapter is simply drawn from imagination. Although perennial “ice caves”—recesses that feature icicles and icy surfaces year-round—are a common phenomenon in many parts of the world, they are admittedly much rarer in temperate and tropical zones, and I make no claim that such phenomenon might be present on or near the hill the Book of Mormon calls Ramah or Cumorah.
For this chapter note, I’d like to discuss the present state of Latter-day Saint apologetics and Book of Mormon scholarship, at least at the time of this writing. Seems as good a place as any to make distinctions between accredited scholarship and amateur scholarship, reassert the value of Latter-day Saint apologetics, reflect upon why this field has come under duress in the last few decades, and contemplate how and why some of the more obvious problems ought to be examined and potentially rectified.
I don’t pretend to have all the answers. I’d classify myself as a non-accredited researcher, meaning my conclusions ought to be subjected to greater scrutiny. My defense? Only that I have the highest regard for traditional standards of academic excellence and the principles of the scientific method when it comes to vetting the myriad of theories that members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints have proposed for the Book of Mormon in recent decades.
First, we should present a succinct definition of the term apologetics. For some lay Christians (including members of the Church) this term instinctively engenders distaste, especially if interpreted to mean defending our beliefs by somehow apologizing for them. In its classic definition, apologetics does not mean “apologizing” for one’s beliefs because others may find them flawed, offensive, or politically incorrect.
Coined by the Greeks thousands of years ago, the term apologetics refers to a formalized or systematic defense of theological positions, usually Christian (although the term can be associated with any religion). Apologists (researchers) are encouraged to employ Socratic logic and/or its variations of critical thinking. The object is to ask questions to draw out ideas and underlying assumptions in a spirit of mutual respect and goodwill. Ideally, both presenter and listener are open to the benefits of increased understanding based on the strength of the arguments an apologist presents.
Few are naïve enough to believe that pure open-mindedness or receptivity exists among the proponents of opposing positions. Still, it is always assumed that some listeners (or readers) may be persuaded by a better argument. To ensure the spirit of openness and the freedom to form conclusions based upon intellect, a presumption of goodwill and mutual respect must be maintained. If acrimony and conflict creep into the discussion, the effectiveness of any debate can be compromised or damaged, sometimes beyond recovery. In these circumstances, neutral parties with no particular affiliation for any one side of an argument can become disenchanted with both sides, even if one side is principally to blame for instigating contention. With this understanding, it’s easy to see how worthwhile ideas or “truths” can be undermined or silenced.
In many parts of the ancient world with Hellenistic (Greek) influences, apologetic debates were a form of public entertainment, especially with the rise of Christianity as a popular belief system, when believers debated non-Christians, including pagans, atheists, humanists, and the adherents of many other belief systems. Apologetics pitting Christians against other Christians with varied scriptural interpretations was also common in ancient times, just as it is today.
Modern apologetics in theological scholarship are traditionally expected to conform not only with Socratic logic but with the scientific method as characterized by hypothesis, experimentation, prediction, refinement, and conclusions based on observation.
When apologetics degenerates into conflict and controversy, it is more accurately defined as polemics. Polemics generally serve little purpose in a field of study. Considerable discipline is required to prevent apologetics from degenerating into polemics. Even in the ancient world public debates about philosophy and theology often spiraled into insults, resentment, and even violence. During the first century a.d., as Priesthood and Apostolic authority were withdrawn (according to Latter-day Saint belief), this deterioration is understandable—and predictable—as the adversary always promotes contention over and above goodwill.
Joseph Smith described the general atmosphere surrounding the First Vision and the Restoration as rife with polemics between the various Christian denominations. In light of this, it seems remarkable that for much of the twentieth century, the scholarly Latter-day Saint community enjoyed a period of unprecedented goodwill and mutual respect, only occasionally allowing apologetics to regress into raw polemics.
In recent years, the situation seems to have shifted. Today’s temperament might be more comparable to that of Christians of the second and third centuries or citizens of the Burned-Over District of New England in 1820 than what was enjoyed by Latter-day Saint apologists during much of the twentieth century. The conversation has deteriorated not only between Latter-day Saint and non-Latter-day Saint scholars but also among Latter-day Saints themselves. This transition seemed to gain momentum in the 1990s, with animosities persisting to the present day.
To understand how we got here and how the situation may be resolved (at least among Latter-day Saints), I believe we must acknowledge the two most responsible factors. 1. Our community is no less galvanized by political and social transformations than is the rest of the world. 2. The dynamic growth of the Church, tripling in worldwide membership in only thirty years, has presented a direct threat to competing institutions who, in response, are at times quite aggressive and vociferous. Sometimes criticisms are so subtle and esoteric that lay members of the Latter-day Saint faith have difficulty following them.
This hardly matters. An inability to follow complex arguments may be viewed as preferable. Some lay members of the faith may simply have heard that “very smart people” have begun to criticize the Book of Mormon, the Book of Abraham, and other mainstays of Latter-day Saint scripture and doctrine. These subjects are designated as ontologically incompatible with the cultures from whence they presumably sprang. Latter-day Saint scholars of former generations have been accused of evasion and superficiality and of deliberately subverting or ignoring valid arguments against so-called “evidences” they feel ought to undermine and “disprove” the faith. In particular, critics have attempted to deconstruct the testimony proclaimed by Latter-day Saints based upon a “witness” from the Holy Ghost, classifying such claims as subjective, psychologically suspect, and/or epistemologically unsound.
Those who feel that last sentence is a mouthful must understand that, in a real way, this is the whole idea. In the 1990s the parameters of theological apologetics started to change. Opponents not only ratcheted up the volume against foundational tenets of the Church, they complicated the rules of the game. Many Latter-day Saint scholars have proven equal to the task of answering the abstruse barrage of straw men and ad hominem, but an esoteric argument generally calls for an esoteric defense. Too often, the lay public feels left in the dust and they no longer tune in.
Even Latter-day Saint researchers are no less susceptible to asserting their arguments with rashness and impudence. Such a temptation is understandable and may even seem Darwinian—“survival of the fittest.” In today’s polemic world, how can worthwhile ideas compete unless their proponents likewise resort to tactics of volume and aggression? It may be difficult, but it is paramount for Latter-day Saints to resist this temptation. I firmly believe that patience, goodwill, and mutual respect—let’s just call it charity—will win the day. Responsible apologists must never forget that their lectures, blogs, articles, and books are not just addressing and resolving criticisms that might be presented by a scholarly adversary. The hope of attracting any audience, even a shrinking audience—even if it’s only a single member—should strongly influence an apologist’s tone.
In matters of ancient scholarship and theological apologetics, one of the first things that undermines debate is agenda. Most will concede that agenda is rarely absent, even in the most professional or “neutral” of circumstances. Adherents of a specific dogma are naturally inclined to defend that dogma. Frankly, if one scholar’s arguments are more cohesive and constructive than another’s, this ought to encourage those of an alternative stripe to alter their positions or go back to the drawing board to reappraise those positions. In theory, such a process should expand and improve the worldwide compendium of knowledge. When apologetics thrive, this expansion is healthy and invigorating.
Alternatively, when scholars and researchers dig in their heels—when agendas are naked and intractable—apologetics stagnate and are sometimes replaced by an entirely new paradigm, whether justified or unjustified.
Based upon my observation, Latter-day Saint apologetics experienced unprecedented vitality during the twentieth century because . . . well, because Latter-day Saints possessed the true religion. During the twentieth century, an indomitable generation of field scientists—archaeologists, anthropologists, geologists, etc.—presented data that fit as easily into Church theology as missing puzzle pieces. Then, as today, much hypothesis was inspired by the publications of non-Latter-day Saint scholars. Research that appears to support Church theology is generally noted by Latter-day Saint researchers who then seek correlating support and subsequently communicate their findings. This process has caused chagrin among non-Latter-day Saint researchers of the past whose references were seemingly being employed against them to reinforce tenets they did not support. Still, Latter-day Saint apologists forged ahead, eagerly devouring the most up-to-date research of accredited scholars, frequently finding it stimulating and exhilarating. For many Latter-day Saint researchers of the twentieth century, it might have felt at times like shooting fish in a barrel.
In the 1990s circumstances of Book of Mormon apologetics began to change, much of the change driven by political and social tensions that were demonstrably anti-Christian and particularly anti-Latter-day Saint. Most sensible, thoughtful, disciplined scholars are stymied when their field of expertise is infiltrated and then dominated by polemics and contention. As gentlemen (and gentlewomen), scholars, and intellectuals—not politicians—such individuals find it repugnant when assertiveness and aggression are given equal or greater deference than the actual quality of the research.
It’s possible that these seeds of discord were sown much earlier in the corridors of academia as universities began trending more secularly, staffing their departments with scholars who claimed no apparent religious affiliation. Many institutions of higher learning perceived nonbelievers as “untainted” by the bias of those who possessed deeply rooted faith. However, atheism and agnosticism are hardly neutral positions. They are invariably shaped by their own range of biases, tending to emphasize what they view as Christianity’s flaws, contradictions, and hypocrisies.
In past decades, a scholar’s agenda, even if it evolved, was never a secret to his or her colleagues. However, because most universities and professional societies maintained a decorum of civility and mutual respect, the addition of atheistic and agnostic scholars was not viewed as entirely negative. Instead, it encouraged faithful scholars to be more careful and detailed.
Somewhere along the line, secularism overwhelmed most fields of learning. Scholars who emphasized a secular agenda gained notoriety, particularly among alumni and administrators who also touted such agendas. Even the most reprehensible ideas in history have yearned for scientific accreditation—such as eugenics or holistic therapies that may endanger a patient’s health or threaten to eliminate a scarce or endangered resource. The stamp of academic approval is, nevertheless, vigorously sought, with less and less consideration as to whether such credentials might be fabricated or fall into the realm of pseudoscience.
