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The post A Rejoinder to Jonathan Neville’s “Response to Recent Reviews” first appeared on The Interpreter Foundation.

The post A Man That Can Translate and Infinite Goodness: A Response to Recent Reviews first appeared on The Interpreter Foundation.

The post “Unto the Taking Away of Their Stumbling Blocks”: The Taking Away and Keeping Back of Plain and Precious Things and Their Restoration in 1 Nephi 13–15 first appeared on The Interpreter Foundation.

Review of Michael R. Ash, Rethinking Revelation and the Human Element in Scripture: The Prophet’s Role as Creative Co-Author (Redding, CA: FAIRLatterDaySaints.org, 2021). 770 pages. $34.95 (paperback).

Abstract: A new book by Mike Ash examines to what degree the human mind is involved in receiving revelation. Ash sums up his view by saying, “prophets have a special calling, but not a special brain.” He then spends 700+ pages describing what that means and how it works. In essence, prophets do not go into a trance-like state, put a pen in their hand, and engage in a process of automatic writing only to wake from the trance and read what has been given. Instead, Ash helps us see how God uses the brains and personality of any particular prophet to bring His word forth. God does not bypass the prophet’s humanness; rather, He relies on it to contextualize His words for a particular people in a particular time.

One might think that an author as prolific as Michael Ash might have run out of things to say by now. After all, he has produced ten books, over 160 articles in such periodicals as the Ensign, Sunstone, the FARMS Review, and Dialogue: A Journal of Mormon Thought. He has also been featured on almost 100 podcast episodes and in 30 videos. And yet his latest work, Rethinking Revelation and the Human Element in Scripture: The Prophet’s Role as Creative Co-Author, weighs in at a whopping 750+ pages. It is an impressive (and heavy) tome.

Ash’s thesis is deceptively simple: God and the prophet work together to produce scripture. He uses that thesis to thread the very tiny needle of understanding how humans have a place in God’s revelatory work without asserting that they alone create the reality. In a phone interview [Page 140]Ash was quick to say that his thesis is not to be taken as supporting the position that says, “Joseph Smith made up the Book of Mormon,” but it’s also not to be taken in support of the idea that a prophet acts like a human dictation machine either.

Why Is This Book Important?

In some ways, Ash’s book is the more academic version of his earlier work, Shaken Faith Syndrome,1 and he references that book frequently. But where Shaken Faith Syndrome attempts to catalog all the difficult issues that cause members to leave the church or investigators to be wary, this book specifically addresses those concerns that come about where human will meets God’s agenda. Ash is seeking to help believers and skeptics embrace the intersection of inspiration and intellect.

Scholars in many other parts of the Christian world have been playing with this idea for decades, but it’s a particularly tricky idea for many Latter-day Saints. It might be fine to think of the Bible as having an element of “creativity” in it because Latter-day Saints already hold some suspicion toward the Bible — it is only worthwhile as it is translated correctly. Ash demonstrates that there are two extremes which should be avoided. One is believing that since the Prophets had a role in creation of scripture that it is therefore all fiction. But the other is believing that Prophets go into some trance-like state and practice some kind of automatic writing where they channel the mind of God without those thoughts needing to be processed through their own brain and language. So, when Ash says that the Prophet has a role in co-creating scripture, he is using the word “create” to mean, “to bring into existence,” and not to mean “creative writing,” a form of fiction writing.

Literalists, Mythicalists, and Extensibilists

Ash observes that faithful members of the Church generally...

Abstract In an earlier paper, I concluded that Lehi and Nephi were highly trained Josephite scribes and were associated with an official Jerusalem scribal school that preserved ancient Manassite traditions. There they acquired advanced writing skills and classical Hebrew and Egyptian, which would become the scriptural languages of the Nephite peoples. These they maintained in the new promised land and passed on from generation to generation through the entire thousand-year Nephite dispensation, even though the Nephite language itself would naturally evolve. Evidence of how they did this surfaces repeatedly throughout the Book of Mormon. The following paper documents how both Mormon and his son Moroni abridged and concluded the religious, military, and political records of Book of Mormon peoples, thus preserving key elements of the vast Nephite records collection for a later dispensation. That scribal process parallels the roles and schools of other cultures of the ancient Near East.

The picture of Moroni. the last Nephite prophet, and his activities after the final battle which seems to prevail with contemporary readers of the Book of Mormon is both simple and straightforward. Still a relatively young man, Moroni is usually described as being completely alone, hiding from still vengeful Lamanites while working to complete his father’s abridgement of the Nephite records, which he would then hide up in the same hill where the great battle had occurred. But the ongoing accumulation of relevant scholarly discoveries about ancient scribalism and more careful readings of Moroni’s own account now invite the construction of a significantly revised and enriched description of Moroni’s last days.

As it turns out, the occasional references to the Nephite records in Mormon’s abridgement and in Nephi’s Small Plates do constitute a complete record of the transmission of the Nephite records from [Page 96]one generation to another. When we read these accounts from the perspective of ancient Near Eastern (hereafter ANE) history and record keeping, it becomes obvious that the Nephites from Nephi to Mormon maintained an official scribal school that kept detailed records of the people, the prophecies and revelations given to the prophets, and the wars and contentions with the Lamanites.

Nephite society may have been tiny in comparison to the great empires of Assyria, Hatti, Egypt, and Babylon. Consequentially, its small governing elite seemed to share the leadership responsibilities of the government administration, the military, the priesthood, and the educational and record-keeping functions of scribes that would have belonged to more specialized peoples in those great ANE empires. In Nephite society, the scribal responsibilities passed back and forth among kings, judges, prophets, and military leaders, suggesting that they were also trained scribes (as will be discussed below). The scribal responsibility always centered in the same charge: to maintain and preserve the same sets of records and other sacred objects and to educate successor generations in high literacy and in the classic languages (Egyptian and Hebrew) of the Brass Plates, their “holy scriptures.” The Nephite experience with scribal training most likely followed the documented pattern of earlier ANE societies, in that students dropped out at different training levels. Many more students achieved minimal or functional literacy than persevered to the highest levels.

The larger scribal charge was always understood in the context of the same prophecy that had been given to Nephi, Lehi, and even to Abraham. These prophets had seen in vision that in the last days the records of the Nephites would become the key tool by which the descendants of Lehi, the Gentiles, and the house of Israel would be gathered in by the Lord as they received the knowledge of the gospel originally revealed to the first Nephite prophets and tau...

Review of Saints: The Story of the Church of Jesus Christ in the Latter Days: Volume 3: Boldly, Nobly, and Independent: 1893–1955 (Salt Lake City: The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, 2022). 757 pages. $6.90 (paperback).

Abstract: Volume 3 of Saints is a readable and engaging narrative discussing a dynamic and transitional period of the history of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. As with the previous volumes in the series, it is approachable and enjoyable for almost all reading audiences.

The Saints series has undertaken what, at face value, appears to be an almost impossible job — to tell the story of the restoration of the Gospel of Jesus Christ in a readable and engaging narrative. With each volume it naturally gets more difficult to achieve that goal because of the expanse of the unfolding chronicle.

Saints: The Story of the Church of Jesus Christ in the Latter Days: Volume 3: Boldly, Nobly, and Independent: 1893–1955 takes a number of disparate stories and deftly and delicately interweaves them into a smooth narrative discussing the history of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints in a dynamic and transitional period. The result is a beautifully interwoven fabric that includes not only corporate and elite history but also inspiring stories of common, everyday members of the church.

Among the numerous stories that help set the scene and move the history forward are those of Wilford Woodruff, Lorenzo Snow, Joseph F. Smith, Heber J. Grant, John and Leah Widtsoe, Susa Young Gates, Amy Brown Lyman, Clarissa Williams, and Zina Young. Of the common, everyday members of the church whose interesting stories also move the narrative along are Paul and Connie Bang of Cincinnati, Ohio; [Page 92]Helga Birth of Germany; Jeanne Charrier of Valence, France; the Daniels family of South Africa; Len and Mary Hope, African-American Saints in Alabama; Anna Kullick and other German expatriates residing in Argentina; Rafael Monroy of San Marcos, Mexico; the Maori Whaanga family of New Zealand and Utah; Toshiko and Tokichi Yanagida of Nagoya, Japan; and a host of others. Furthermore, as women and people of various races and ethnicities have played an important role in church history, they also play an important role in this volume.

For the most part, this volume of Saints doesn’t shy away from potentially difficult and uncomfortable topics. For example, the book discusses post-Manifesto plural marriages and the confusion this caused among some members (83–86, 106–108, 113–14); the forced resignations of apostles Matthias Cowley and John W. Taylor due to political pressure during the Reed Smoot hearings (115–16); Mexico’s Third Convention movement and estrangement from church leadership (369–70, 373, 485–88); the excommunication of Helmuth Hübener in Germany before he was executed by the Nazis (439); and George Albert Smith’s continued problems with anxiety and depression (517–19).

Despite the refreshing willingness to discuss difficult historical information, the authors still shied away from some topics. For instance, no mention is made of Fawn McKay Brodie, a niece of David O. McKay, at that time a counselor in the First Presidency, and her controversial book, No Man Knows My History.1 Despite flaws and questionable analysis, Brodie’s book is considered ground-breaking and caused a resurgence in researching and writing about Joseph Smith. Indeed, there are some who suggest her book encouraged a new approach that produced the new Latter-day Saint history which has had significant influence on historical research in the church.

Furthermore, while Richard R.

Abstract: Nephi’s writings exhibit a distinctive focus on “good” and divine “goodness,” reflecting the meaning of Nephi’s Egyptian name (derived from nfr) meaning “good,” “goodly,” “fine,” or “fair.” Beyond the inclusio playing on his own name in terms of “good” and “goodness” (1 Nephi 1:1; 2 Nephi 33:3–4, 10, 12), he uses a similar inclusio (2 Nephi 5:30–31; 25:7–8) to frame and demarcate a smaller portion of his personal record in which he incorporated a substantial portion of the prophecies of Isaiah (2 Nephi 6–24). This smaller inclusio frames the Isaianic material as having been incorporated into Nephi’s “good” writings on the small plates with an express purpose: the present and future “good” of his and his brothers’ descendants down to the latter days.

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The terms “good”1 (or “goodly”)2 and “goodness”3 recur with sufficient frequency within Nephi’s writings as to constitute a key term therein. While admittedly not all these instances bear the same thematic weight, some have clear, specific contextual connections to Nephi himself, his people, his writings, or to all three. Of these, several appear to have special significance because of their placement within the structure of Nephi’s writings.

The two books of Nephi on Nephi’s small plates begin and end with wordplay on the name Nephi4 (Egyptian nfr5 = “good, fine, goodly” in addition to “beautiful, fair”)6 in terms of “good” and God’s “goodness.” See 1 Nephi 1:1, which contains the terms “goodly” and “goodness,” and 2 Nephi 33:4, 10, 12, which contain the terms “good” and “goodness.” This onomastic wordplay creates an inclusio — a bracketing or ...

Review of Jeffrey M. Bradshaw, Freemasonry and the Origins of Latter-day Saint Temple Ordinances (Orem, UT: The Interpreter Foundation, 2022). 556 pages. $39.99 (paperback).

Abstract: With the precision of a renowned surgeon, the finesse of a master politician, the insights of an eminent theologian, and the artistic skill of an eloquent poet, Jeffrey M. Bradshaw masterfully examines the influence of Masonic rituals and symbolism on the most sacred rites of Latter-day Saints as found in our holy temples.

Critics of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, as well as temple-going members familiar with Masonic symbolism, find it impossible to dismiss the many parallels that exist between temple rites and the rituals and symbolism found in Freemasonry. Those critical of the Church point to such parallels and decry the similarities as evidence that Joseph Smith simply copied the Masonic symbolism to create the temple rites familiar to millions of Latter-day Saints. Temple-going members, of course, faithfully believing the divine origins of what is considered the restoration of the original Church of Jesus Christ, recognize ancient origins in the rich symbolism found in temple worship. For the past few decades at least, these two views have competed to explain the similarities recognized by many between Masonry and “Mormon” temple worship. Proponents of each approach have, at times, become dogmatic in their dismissal of arguments that appear to contradict their favored view and have simultaneously become potentially blind to their own shortsightedness in recognizing the evidences supporting the opposing view. More recently, arguments favoring a mostly revelatory [Page 72]source for key elements of temple rites have gained favor, apparently dismissing some or all arguments from both aforementioned camps.

What is one to do when faced with three competing and often compelling explanations? Some say that Joseph copied from Masonry, others say that Joseph restored ancient temple practices, while still others say the temple rites are based in modern revelation. There is much to consider in these three approaches, and it is understandable if the lay member feels caught in the crossfire, so to speak.

In the midst of this occasional “war of words and tumult of opinions,” Jeffrey Bradshaw takes an analytical approach that breaks down the similarities and differences between these two richly symbolic systems of rites, Masonic and temple, and offers an intricately insightful and sometimes nuanced explanation that carefully threads a woven link between all three explanatory approaches. He meticulously examines the key symbolism found in Latter-day Saint temple rites in light of the verifiable history of Masonic influences on Joseph Smith and carefully dissects the various parallels and differences between the two. He considers areas that appear to clearly indicate direct Masonic influence, those that indicate clear or likely connections to ancient Israelite practices and teachings, and those that appear to be new elements of worship.

My first initiation to the parallels between Masonry and temple worship came as a young missionary in Panama in early 1986. I was with another missionary walking the streets of a suburb outside Panama City when a man approached me. I put out my hand to greet him, and as he took hold, he said “No, that is not correct. Let me show you!” and he then proceeded to rearrange the grip of our handshake until it formed a gesture I knew only from the temple, one which I had promised through covenant to keep sacred. I was taken aback, and as I removed my hand from his, I asked, “Are you a Latter-day Saint?”

“No,” he replied, “I am a Mason.”

I was astonished to experience what was, for me, something so sacred being shared outside of a temple settin...

Abstract: Most biblical students are familiar with the story of Hannah, who after years of barrenness, finally gave birth to the prophet Samuel. Some will remember her adversary, Peninnah, who allegedly tormented Hannah to tears. My objective in this article is to reclaim Peninnah’s good name by reinterpreting the passage found in 1 Samuel 1:6.

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Imagine you are scrolling through Netflix and spot a movie that looks interesting, so you decide to watch it. When it ends you feel moved by its message. Interested in how others reacted, you get on your laptop and go to the movie’s website. While reading comments left by other viewers, you notice that almost everyone is talking about one particular scene. The odd thing is that you don’t remember that scene at all. Here is how one viewer summarized the scene:

Ken and Anna are sitting at a booth in a local diner. A young waitress, Pearl, approaches, hands them menus, and says something offensive to Anna, but Ken doesn’t seem to notice. Anna, however, heard it and internalized it. When Pearl comes back to take their orders, she also takes the opportunity to get in another jab at Anna. When she brings the food to the table, she piles on yet more insults. Ken seems oblivious, but Anna is deeply hurt. She abruptly gets up from the booth and runs toward the front door, with Ken close behind. They both stop just outside the door of the diner and Ken embraces her. Unaware, he asks: “Anna, what’s wrong? Why are you crying, and why won’t you eat the meal we just ordered? Just then the door of the diner opens and out steps Pearl. She glances at the couple, gives Anna a nasty look, and then walks away.

[Page 38]When you finish reading this comment, the scene sounds even less familiar. You remember Ken and Anna standing outside of a building and hugging while she cried — it could have been a diner, you guess — but that is all you remember. So, you go back to Netflix, reload the movie, and skip to that scene. But, in your version of the movie, nothing comes before their embrace at the front door; Ken and Anna don’t sit at a booth inside the building, and Pearl never talks to them. As you keep watching, a woman walks through the front door, glances at the couple, and walks off screen. Did she throw a “nasty” look at Anna? You don’t think she did, but maybe you missed something. You rewind the scene and watch it again. This time you pause as the other woman looks over at Anna, and you notice that she is wearing a restaurant uniform, and she has a badge with the name Pearl on it. Those are details you never would have seen had you not paused the film. But does her glance appear mean-spirited? Not that you can tell. It seems more like just a curious look.

Abstract: The biblical Hebrew collocation pinnâ derek or pannû derek (cf. Egyptian Ἰr wꜣ.t [n]), often rendered “prepare the way” or “prepare a way” in English, is an evident stylistic feature of Nephi’s writings. The most basic meaning of this idiom is “clear my way,” which is how it is rendered in 2 Nephi 4:33. Zenos’s use of “prepare the way” (Jacob 5:61, 64) in the context of “clear[ing] away” bad branches also reflects this most basic meaning.

The Hebrew idiom pinnâ derek or pannû derek often appears in early English translations of the Hebrew Bible (including the KJV) as “prepare the way” (see, e.g., Isaiah 40:3 [cf. Matthew 3:3; Mark 1:3; Luke 3:4], 57:14, 62:10 [pannû derek]; Malachi 3:1 [pinnâ derek]). Nephi’s replete use of this idiom constitutes a stylistic marker in his personal writings (see 1 Nephi 3:7; 9:6; 10:7–8 [with reference to Isaiah 40:3]; 10:18; 11:27 [also with reference to Isaiah 40:3]; 14:17; 17:41; 22:20; 2 Nephi 2:4; 4:33; and 9:10).

The basic meaning of the Hebrew verb pānâ is “to turn.”1 In its Piel stem (pinnâ), this verb means “to clear away, remove” (Zephaniah 3:15) or “tidy up” (Genesis 24:31; Leviticus 14:36).2 As an idiomatic expression, pinnâ derek (and its plural imperative pannû derek) denotes “clear the [Page 32]way”3 or “clear a track”4 — namely, “make” a way, road, track, or path “clear, free from obstacles.”5 The Egyptian equivalent of this idiom is Ἰr wꜣ.t n (“prepare a way for”).6 As a Hebrew speaker taught in the “learning of the Jews,” Nephi surely would have been familiar with the former, and as one whose education also included the “language of the Egyptians” (1 Nephi 1:2), he was plausibly familiar with variations of the latter. Thus, Nephi’s apparent use of the idiom in 2 Nephi 4:33 begs further scrutiny. Toward the end of what has come to be called “the Psalm of Nephi” (2 Nephi 4:16–35), a document written immediately after the death of Lehi7 and later transcribed by Nephi to his small plates, Nephi petitions the Lord thus:

O Lord, wilt thou encircle me around in the robe of thy righteousness! O Lord, wilt thou make a way for mine escape before mine enemies! Wilt thou make my path straight before me! Wilt thou not place a stumbling block in my way — but that thou wouldst clear my way before me, and hedge not up my way, but the ways of mine enemy.