Silence

I've been interested a lot lately in the idea of silence. You might not think much of this concept, especially seeing as silence is getting harder and harder to come by in today's world. But there is something sacred about the absence of sound, an explicitly divine character which I find difficult to explain directly. Thankfully, others have done it for me. In what follows, I will quote the works of several philosophers and show you their take on what makes silence such a spiritually-important phenomenon.

First, I will quote the beginning of 19th-century philosopher Søren Kierkegaard's short work Lily of the Field, Bird of the Air:

"From the lily and the bird as teachers, let us learn: silence, or learn to be silent. Surely it is speech that distinguishes humanity above the animal, and then, if you like, far above the lily. But because the ability to speak is an advantage, it does not follow that the ability to be silent would not be an art or would be an inferior art. On the contrary, because the human being is able to speak, the ability to be silent is an art, and a great art precisely because this advantage so easily tempts him. But this he can lean from the silent teachers, the lily and the bird: "Seek first God's kingdom and his righteousness." But what does this mean, what am I to do, or what is the effort that can be said to seek  to aspire to God's kingdom? Shall I see about getting a position commensurate who my talents and abilities in order to be effective in it? No, you shall first seek God's kingdom. Shall I then go out and proclaim this doctrine to the world? No, you shall first seek God's kingdom. But then in a certain sense it us nothing I shall do? Yes, quite true, in a certain sense it is nothing. In the deepest sense you shall make yourself nothing, become nothing before God, learn to be silent. In this silence is the beginning, which is to seek first God's kingdom."

In the scripture from which Kierkegaard's treatise gets its title, (Matthew 6: 25-34) Jesus encourages his disciples to forgo seeking food, drink, or clothing for the eternal goal of salvation. And while this goal may involve reading your scriptures, going to church, or praying, Kierkegaard here observes that the kingdom itself is not identical with any of these things. If we seek to read the scriptures simply for the sake of reading the scriptures, we miss the point of spirituality entirely. These spiritual activities are merely lenses through which we can perceive divine light, meaning that to focus on them alone ignores the overarching goal to which they allow us to come closer. 

To have true peace, we must cease desiring things for their own sake and instead seek first God's kingdom. The desire for Heaven must thus lie at the very forefront of our will, meaning that we should not strive to do anything unless it lies within our desire to follow the will of God. But Kierkegaard doesn't just mean this in the most obvious sense. Instead, we must abandon even our desire for spiritual peace and freedom from sin, for even these are manifestations of our selfish will to change.

You may wonder, then, what it is that a person should do. How can we follow the will of God, after all, if we act selfishly whichever way we turn? The answer, it seems, lies in silence. We must let the loud buzzing of our selfish will subside into quiet stillness, and allow the love of God to work silently within us. For only this love can bring peace.

Next, consider this quotation from the beginning of 17th-century mystic Jakob Boehme's work The Suprasensual Life:

"The student said to the teacher, 'How may I come to that life beyond the senses that I may see God and hear God speak?' The teacher said, 'If you can swing yourself up for a moment into that in which no creature dwells, then you will hear what God speaks.'

The student said, 'Is that near or far?' The teacher said, 'It is within you. If you could remain silent from all of your willing and sensing for one hour, then you will hear unutterable words of God.'

The student said, 'How may I hear when I keep silent from sensing and willing?' The teacher said, 'If you keep silent from sensing and willing of your self, then the eternal hearing, seeing, and speaking will be revealed within you, and God will hear and see through you. Your own hearing, willing, and seeing hinder you, so that you do not see or hear God.'

The student spoke, 'With what shall I hear and see God, if God is beyond nature and creaturely life?' The teacher spoke, 'If you would remain silent, then you are what God was before nature and creatureliness, that from which God created your nature and creatureliness. So hear and see with what God saw and heard in you, before your own willing, seeing, and hearing began.'"

Boehme also believes that silence is divine, but  makes some bolder claims to that effect than Kierkegaard ever does. He believes that Jesus spoke more or less literally when he said that "the Kingdom of God is within you", and that you can access the Kingdom if you perceive themselves as you truly are. But the more we follow the whims of our individual will and the demands of our senses, the more we separate ourselves from this inner connection to God. This also means, of course, the more we abandon our own will and way of looking at things, the more we become able to see past the shallow surface of our ego to the divinity that lies deep within. And this happens through silence.

Silence is more than just the absence of sound. For Kierkegaard and Boehme, it actually represents a viewpoint in which nothing separates the soul from reality, where the dichotomies of great and small, sacred and common, and even subject and object become erased. When we become silent, we bring heaven down to earth, or rather, we perceive that heaven and earth were never really separate to begin with. For all dichotomies are a form of noise, an oscillating vibration that becomes still in the embrace of silence.
 
Silence lies at the very heart of reality. When a person rests in silence, they never concern themselves with going anywhere; they realize that they have only ever been here, and they are perfectly content with that. They realize that silence is the mother of all opposites, and that being silent is a way of transforming opposition into love. Finally, they see that this world is much greater than it seems to most. For behind all the traffic, the pedestrians, and the TV, there does not only lie silence, but the brilliance of God's light. 

To achieve this transcendent state, we must offer up to God our selfish desire to change the world by our own efforts. This world, after all, belongs to God, and our attempts to usurp His power merely add ripples on its figurative surface.The only way we can ever hope to achieve peace, hope, or salvation is to silence our individual will, and so let the eternal will of God become revealed in us. The world, after all, is a kind of river, and the will of God is the current that continually ushers us forward to our individual destinies. If we try to swim in a direction that makes sense to us, we will only end up exhausting ourselves in an effort to swim upstream. For the only real way to be at peace in this life is to stop striving for it. We must learn to be still and trust the stream, knowing beyond all question that God will always lead us forward to the place we are meant to be. 

Embracing silence is hardly naivité or blind faith. It is rather a profound trust of reality, a deep acceptance of God's biblical declaration that "the world is good" (Genesis 1:31). When we find peace with the silence behind all things, we will suddenly find that the world becomes noticeably smaller: not in a claustrophobic way, but in the sense of knowing that "all things will work together for our good" (Romans 8:28). Instead of feeling the existential anxiety that comes from seeing the world as absurd, the silent person comes to see the universe as nothing more frightening than a nursery in which to grow and learn. And instead of perceiving the conflict of opposites, they will see each form of opposition as a kind of embrace.

Forms of Meditation

In one of my recent posts, I talked about how I use the Book of Mormon as a form of meditation. I have thought about this idea at great length, and it occured to me a few days ago that I could put together a whole post on the subject of meditation and its various forms. So that's what I'm going to do.

I should probably give you a definition of the term, shoudn't I? While I may wax ambitious by trying to define something as broad as meditation, I believe that all forms of meditative practice have a simple and overarching commonality. I will present this shared trait in the form of a quotation from the Book of Mormon:

"For he hath answered the ends of the law, and he claimeth all those who have faith in him; and they who have faith in him will cleave unto every good thing [...]" (Moroni 7:28)

When you "cleave unto every good thing", you don't just display a naive optimism or cheeriness, but rather exercise one of the primary fruits of faith. Since all good things come from God, this occurs because having faith in Him will cause you to have faith in all of his creations. Everything would therefore gain an almost infinitely greater value, since you would see a divine hand in all things. 

This "looking for the good" constitutes the essence of meditation. More specifically, I believe that meditation involves looking for the good where it isn't immediately apparent. By trying to find value in things they would otherwise neglect or pass over, the student of meditation will eventually learn to find value in everything around them. Moreover, this process involves actively trying to avoid judgment, for only if a person becomes willing to avoid prejudice will they find good in the things they previously rejected.

That said, I will divide meditation into two overarching categories: "inbound" meditation, and "outbound" meditation. Practicing "inbound mediation" involves placing yourself in a nonjudgmental attitude toward the external world. Every moment you live your life, you take in incredible amounts of data from the people, objects, and activities that surround you, and it is precisely this intake of information that constitutes the essence of our experience as human beings. However, this faculty of perception hardly occurs uniformly. As a part of the human condition, you and all other human beings favor some perceptions above others, and this naturally means that some perceptions will get suppressed. For example, we here in Utah have long since forgotten what it's like to look at our mountains with "fresh eyes". We think of them as simply "there", meaning that we can never experience the outsider's wonder at, say, Mount Timpanogos.

Inbound meditation is how you avoid favoring some experiences above others. Through its various forms, it can teach you to see the good in all outer phenomena, regardless of their outer appearance or worth in the eyes of the world. Naturally this leads to a greater enjoyment of life. Because it can cause you to have less of a prior prejudice against certain types of experience, inbound meditation gives the practitioner a greater appreciation for all things virtuous, lovely, or of good report.

But how does one practice it? I actually think that many activities capture the spirit of inbound meditation, but they all have a common structure, which goes as follows: the practitioner focuses on something he or she thinks is inconsequential, and by repeatedly trying to find the "good" in it, the person finds that they can better find the good in all things. Generic mindfulness meditation falls quite nicely into this category, for when people focus fully on some object of focus like the breath, they generally find it increasingly easy to enjoy sensations in the world (or "be present"). The breath does not hold a monopoly on this kind of meditation, though. Even when seated in traditional meditative positions, you can also choose to focus on a specific spot in your field of vision, a repeated short phrase or "mantra", or even a simple, repetitive song.  (See this article for an excellent treatise on mantras in a Mormon context)

Inbound meditation need not always have such an oriental character. From my perspective, any object in the external world which is both simple and constant can act as the requisite focus for this kind of activity. I have already mentioned the Book of Mormon as such an object, but in fact, many activities can have this effect. For instance, I believe the process of coming to believe a doctrine or teaching qualifies as inbound meditation. Likewise, the act of loving someone in a romantic context can have this kind of effect (perhaps the reason why a certain Beatle didn't hear the bells on the hill "till there was you").

However, you can also practice "outbound" meditation. Just as inbound meditation involves being nonjudgmental of those things that come in at you from the world, you practice its opposite when you avoid judging those things that come out into the world from you. This might strike you as odd, seeing as most people think that we should avoid saying or doing certain things at all costs. But we cannot avoid the fact that most, if not all of us repress certain things about ourselves. In other words, there are parts of you that, despite the fact that they exist and have needs, are buried and repressed by the conscious mind. 

To give an example, suppose a person identifies very strongly as a clear-headed intellectual. He or she would picture themselves almost exclusively as a person who can reason through ideas logically and deductively, and this person's self-image would depend entirely on their capacity for thought and reason. However, since human beings are almost never completely lopsided, this hypothetical intellectual (who, by the way, is not me) would almost certainly repress a  human capacity for emotion and connection. This is not something abnormal, however. In fact, it is the very fact of their talent that ensures the presence of a corresponding weakness.

Though I intend to talk about this much more in a following post, it should suffice to know that everyone favors certain things about themselves at the expense of others. However, those rejected parts of your identity are far from dormant; they want very badly else to have more of a voice in the congress of your conscious mind and to have a say in what you do. The process of listening to it and giving it what it wants is essential to psychological well-being, and I believe that what I call "outbound" meditation is the best way to do this. 

In short, outbound meditation involves being nonjudgmental of whatever comes out of your mind. In the process of our day-to-day lives, we explicitly reject certain thoughts or behaviors because they are somehow "unacceptable" or "irrelevant". However, more often than not these spontaneous eruptions from your mind represent the cries of its buried unconscious, and you will not achieve much psychological progress until you learn to find the good in them. 

The way to do this is simple: pick a medium of art, and spontaneously and uncritically create. Don't care about how good you are or about whether or not people will like it; all you need to do in order to practice outbound meditation is to treat everything that comes out of your mind with value. However, you should also try to somehow create from a feeling, as if you let that feeling create for you. In this way, the psychological "energy" that lies behind it can have a means of expression, by which it can vent off some of its inner pressure.

The famous psychologist Carl Jung called this process "active imagination". He believed that it was a manifestation of a sort of mental "transcendent function", by which the conscious and the unconscious parts of your mind work together. As a result of this cooperation, he says that you build a bridge between those warring parts of your psyche, so as to better "integrate" those parts of you with which you don't identify.

But this is all very theoretical. To speak more practically, know that I practice this kind of outbound meditation, and that I have benefited greatly from it. By writing directly from my inner centers of conflict and stress, I am able to come to a greater understanding of what that part of me wants, and moreover, what to do about it. I am a writer, but this also works in the context of painting, sculpture, dance, and music. It can also occurin a religious context. When I kneel down to pray, I pour forth to my Father all of my worries and and my inner conflicts, and almost immediately I feel a greater sense of inner peace and calm. Moreover, the journal-writing which the general authorities have encouraged us to do fulfills this same function, for it lets us relieve externally much of the pressure we feel internally.

To sum up, these two kinds of mediation are mirror images of each other. One of them takes a divided and lopsided perception of the world and unifies it by bringing it into our consciousness, and one of them takes a divided and lopsided consciousness, and unifies it by bringing it out into our perception of the world. By using these two forms of meditative practice, I have found my life much more enjoyable and easier to manage. I would wholeheartedly recommend both of these activities to anyone who finds that their life is hard, or even to anyone at all.

Observations on the Book of Mormon, Part 2

Hello again!  As promised, here goes the second part of my Book of Mormon analysis. This post will differ from the previous one in that it will focus on the process of gaining a testimony, as opposed to merely the text itself.

3.  Gaining a testimony is a way of accepting the unknown

While I am quite interested in the efforts of Book of Mormon archaeologists, I can't help feeling that they are somehow missing the book's point. They may find a great deal of similarity and correspondence between this work of scripture and the history of ancient Mesoamerica, but there will always remain equally powerful arguments against the book's historical validity. This is as it should be. The intellectual arguments for and against the Book of Mormon's historicity will always invalidate each other, meaning that humble seekers after truth have nothing to rely upon except faith.

The Book of Mormon's historical reality is what I like to call an "epistemically neutral proposition". Because no one can find a conclusive argument to prove or disprove it, anyone who wishes to decide one way or the other will inevitably find frustration. If someone wishes to get out of this double-bind, they must choose one of two options. 

The first is to tell yourself that the Book of Mormon has no evidence (a proposition which is absolutely false) and by doing so cling only to those things which are undeniable "common-sense". But when someone rejects the Book of Mormon, they do so because they are uncomfortable staying in the no-man's-land of intellectual ambiguity, and this occurs in turn because they do not like the idea of the "unknown". This presents a problem. Not only is the historicity of the Book of Mormon empirically unkowable, but also many things which are crucial to our existence as human beings - the future, the unconscious part of our psyches, and even groups of people with whom we are unfamiliar. If a person has an adversarial relationship to the unknown, they will face these uncertainties with fear and hostility. They will take drastic efforts to control things which cannot be controlled, will try to beat all parts of themselves which they do not like into submission, and consider all strange people as enemies. This is the basic human condition, the scriptural "natural man". When someone rejects the Book of Mormon, they merely perpetuate the adversarial attitude of all natural men and women toward things they do not know or understand. However, there is another way.

When someone believes the Book of Mormon to be true despite all epistemic ambiguity, something remarkable begins to happen. Instead of rejecting those parts of the book which lack evidence or don't make sense, he or she learns to wholeheartedly embrace them, and show faith even when it seems impossible. By continuing to read this book regularly, they work at their acceptance of the unknown like training a muscle. Soon, their attitude toward the world begins to change, allowing them to become more loving of others, more accepting of themselves, and more able to go with the flow of life. I have felt this process myself. The more I read the Book of Mormon, the more love and acceptance I can show to both other people and myself, for real love requires the same patience and faith we exercise while reading that amazing work of scripture. In all honesty, I can think of no better way to overcome fear and hatred than by using the kind of practice inherent in this struggle for faith.

4. There are two Books of Mormon

I previously quoted Grant Hardy as saying that the Book of Mormon is "better than it sounds". Since then I have reflected upon this quip, and it suddenly struck me that his remark has more truth than meets the eye. How so? I actually believe that it is true because there are not one, but two Books of Mormon.

Seeing as the number of the book's copies far exceeds two, you may become confused at this point. However, instead of actually counting the number of books in physical existence, I simply mean that every edition of the Book of Mormon contains two versions of the text within it: one external, and one internal. The external Book of Mormon is a tediously-written story about the origins of the Native American people. It is awkwardly-worded in parts, potentially racist in others, and contains an overall sense of condemnation. This external text is all some people will ever know about the Book of Mormon, for many only concern themselves with what lies on the intellectual surface. Little do they know that such "chloroform in print" (to quote Mark Twain) conceals another book within.

To reuse an idea from the Little Prince, no one can read the "internal" Book of Mormon with their eyes. This inner book escapes all attempts to read it critically or while trying to compare it to external criteria, for we can only learn its teachings with an eye that "cleaves unto every good thing". This principle of "looking for the good" in all things is actually the key to the Book of Mormon. In fact, I daresay that it is nothing less than a Urim and Thummim for we who read. When we exercise this love for all things good, the Book of Mormon suddenly changes from a mass of incoherent language to a beautiful testimony of all that is good and true.

If you allow me to speak directly, you stand in Joseph Smith's place. Each and every reader of the Book of Mormon has been invited to unearth an ancient record from beneath the built-up earth of time, and while it may take years of patience to actually be in a place to comprehend its teachings, we can all eventually begin the arduous task of translating it. By using the twin interpreters of love and faith, you can slowly begin to peel back the seemingly objectionable surface, until you finally stare face-to-face with what lies within. And what lies within is glorious. Beneath each and every flaw lies pure goodwill, incommensurable truth, and above all, the blazing fire of love. But this fire does not stay put. Its embers constantly fly out to those in its presence, and when you behold it in even portion of its glory, it will captivates you with an erupting flame. Soon after everything catches fire, and you will begin to see in everything the brilliant love of God's heaven. Everyone around you will become nobler, each and every idea will contain more truth, and even the very colors surrounding you will shine will a brightness you haven't seen since the days of your childhood. 

Conclusion

That's that. I've actually decided that this will be the last post in this series, as opposed to the three that I tentatively promised you. But before I go, I'd like to say a few words to you in summary.

If you learn to have faith in the Book of Mormon despite all its imperfections, you can better see past the imperfections of all things. This wondrous work of scripture is a perfect laboratory, a remarkable training ground in which you can fearlessly grow the seed of your faith until it blossoms into a veritable Tree of Life. But with faith comes love.   By embracing the strange and the unknowable, the arms of your love can reach even farther than you can see with your eyes. In fact, the Book of Mormon will teach you not only how to extend your love to the unkown reaches of the world, but also to that strangest thing of all - yourself. 

I bear your my testimony that the Book of Mormon is true. While it may seem strange and needlessly complicated, it conceals within it a roadmap to the eternties, not only in the hereafter, but in each and every moment. It is the iron rod, and by clinging to it through the darkness of doubt and temptation, it can lead you straight to the source of all good and truth: the love of God. I have tasted this love. As such, I can testify to you that it is greater than all things, for it not only burns brightly beneath this book's pages, but in your heart, and in the eyes of each and every one of God's children.

I am suddenly inspired to offer a challenge to you, the reader: if you love only what you can see with your eyes, or if you fear and despise what is strange or unknown, I invite you to step out of your comfort zone. Read the Book of Mormon, and if you encounter something that  rubs you the wrong way, bring it to God. Either vocally or in your heart, bring the contention you feel to Him, and He will turn it to peace, love, and openness. By doing this you will learn to love without prejudice all that is good and true. You will face the obscurity of fear and hatred, and you will find that it suddenly turns into the brilliance of love.

This I testify in the name of Jesus Christ. Amen.

Observations on the Book of Mormon, Part 1

Hello there! As you can probably tell, I've taken another extended leave of absence from this blog, and I am only just now returning to it. But that's OK, because I'll make up for it by giving you guys some really interesting tidbits about the Book of Mormon.

I'm currently beginning my fourth read-through of this piece of scripture. While the text is still didactic and awkwardly-worded, it becomes more and more clear to me with each reading that it is an amazing piece of work. To quote a phrase by Grant Hardy, I would go as far as to say that the book is "better than it sounds", as it contains many wonderful elements which only become clear upon repeated readings. I intend to explore some of these elements in the next few blog posts. By going through some less-than-obvious facets of the Book of Mormon text and its reading experience, I hope to more fully convince the reader that it is as amazing as I know it to be.

Also, I expect this post to be spread over three parts or so. Just a heads up.

1. Reading the Book of Mormon is a form of meditation 

This observation will almost certainly strike you as counterintuitive, or else downright silly. However, because I have recently spent a great deal of time both meditating and reading the Book of Mormon, I have noticed some remarkable similarities between the two processes. For instance, both activities require that the participant  be non-judgmental. In the case of meditation, (specifically mindfulness meditation) the practitioner is supposed to silently observe the various sensations arising in their body and their surroundings, all while gently avoiding thought or other forms of mental categorization. Similarly, a reader cannot get much out of the Book of Mormon if they have constantly-running interior criticism. In addition to the lack of enjoyment that naturally comes with a less accepting mind, they will get hung up on the awkward language, the anachronisms, or the sometimes-condemning tone inherent in the text. However, the Book of Mormon itself can actually assist the reader in becoming less judgmental. In similitude to meditation's emphasis on breathing, the Book of Mormon's sincere plainness and simplicity acts as a focus for the mind, a sort of "mantra" by which the intellect learns to both wander less and find value in the here and now. I myself am a testament to the effectiveness of the Book of Mormon in this regard. As I learned to accept the Book of Mormon for what it is, I have become far less critical of everything else I encounter in the world. This means that I tend to enjoy things much more than I have in the past, for I am more willing to experience things as they are, rather than bemoan what they are not.  My life is thus a clear example that, even within our minds, "by small and simple things are great things brought to pass".

2. The Book of Mormon is a psychological text

If you were brought up in the Church, you are probably very familiar with the two figures named Laman and Lemuel. These prideful and hard-hearted older brothers act as Nephi's foil, resisting the progress of righteousness every time he wishes to "choose the right". But I have noticed something extremely interesting about these two, something which will require the examination of a few Book of Mormon excerpts. For example,

"And now when they saw that I began to be sorrowful they were glad in their hearts, insomuch that they did rejoice over me, saying: We knew that ye could not construct a ship, for we knew that ye were lacking in judgment; wherefore, thou canst not accomplish so great a work. [...] Behold, these many years we have suffered in the wilderness, which time we might have enjoyed our possessions and the land of our inheritance; yea, and we might have been happy." (1 Nephi 17:19-22)

Does this sound familiar to you? Barring your memory of the passage itself, I find it highly likely that you have experienced criticism like this in the past. I don't mean to say that you have all had mean older brothers, but rather that each of you has an annoying voice in your head whose sole motivation is to make you think less of yourself and your efforts. You know the one. When you have just finished a recital or a presentation, it's the nagging thought that you did horribly or that you shouldn't even have participated. It's what tells you that you're stupid, ugly, or any other negative adjective, and it is often what dissuades you from trying to do the right or most important thing.

Next, take this discourse spoken by a young Nephi:

"How is it that ye have forgotten that ye have seen an angel of the Lord? Yea, and how is it that ye have forgotten what great things the Lord hath done for us, in delivering us out of the hands of Laban, and also that we should obtain the record? Yea, and how is it that ye have forgotten that the Lord is able to do all things according to his will, for the children of men, if it so be that they exercise faith in him? Wherefore, let us be faithful to him. And if it so be that we are faithful to him, we shall obtain the land of promise [...]" (1 Nephi 7: 10-13)

In an attitude which is almost directly opposed to that of Laman and Lemuel, Nephi encourages his brothers to remember the many blessings which they have experienced in their lives. I would argue that you are familiar with this kind of voice, as well. Whenever you are about to do something that violates your normal code of ethics, there is a voice in your head which tells you to stop and correct your course of action to something more virtuous

My point is this: in many places 1 Nephi uncannily resembles a battle between the mind's inner voices. Naturally Nephi corresponds to the conscience, the part of a person which encourages them to do the right thing even when it's hard. On the other hand, Laman and Lemuel seem to represent the parts of the psyche which both criticize the person and encourage them to be ethically lazy - in short, everything opposed to the "still, small voice". This observation would of no particular significance if it were not also true that people can and do identify with these mental dialogues. Because everyone experiences this kind of psychological conflict, I speculate that the beginning chapters of the Book of Mormon will often strike the reader as a reflection of their own spiritual journey, and thus come across as particularly powerful and emotionally potent. In other words, 1 Nephi offers a written model of how a person can overcome temptation and internal criticism, a roadmap which a person can follow to reach the promised land of inner peace.

It is not only 1 Nephi which bears this kind of psychological watermark. Take this passage from 3 Nephi, for instance:

"And it came to pass that thus did the three days pass away. And it was in the morning, and the darkness dispersed from off the face of the land, and the earth did cease to tremble, and the rocks did cease to rend, and the dreadful groanings did cease, and all the tumultuous noises did pass away. And the earth did cleave together again, that it stood; and the mourning, and the weeping, and the wailing of the people who were spared alive did cease; and their mourning was turned into joy, and their lamentations into the praise and thanksgiving unto the Lord Jesus Christ, their Redeemer." (3 Nephi 10:9-10)

The three days of darkness before Christ's resurrection almost immediately remind one of the times in our lives when all hope seems lost, when the knowledge and peace that one had before has fled, to be replaced with only obscurity and doubt. I would wager that most people who seriously strive after spiritual light have experienced such "dark nights of the soul", and so 3 Nephi too can capture the heart with its symbolic resemblance to the reader's life. The amazing thing, however, is what comes next. As in the above quotation, those who persist with faith inevitably come out of this "spiritual dryness" into the love of God, meaning that the passages about Christ's coming to the Americas give hope and comfort to those still in the midst of darkness. If you allow me to speak mystically, Christ does not only appear to the Nephites, but forever appears to us through the hope offered by the Book of Mormon itself.

Other parts of the Book of Mormon have psychological aspects, as well. You might think of the Jaredite barges as an example, for we too are on a journey to a promised land, (i.e. the peace of God's love) and we have a tiny bit of God's light to illuminate us while we are beat upon by the storms of life. The famous "pride cycle" is also a psychological correspondence, for it is human behavior to become spiritually lazy when one has forgotten the taste of the Spirit.

To clarify, I am not saying that the Book of Mormon is exclusively psychological, and I don't want you to think that the Book of Mormon is not the historical record which it claims to be. While it is true that this work of scripture has many correspondences with psychological experiences, these could be attributed to either the inspiration of God or to the book's actual authors, (Nephi, Mormon, and Moroni) and thus do not mean that that Joseph Smith wrote it on his own.

Perhaps the most incredible thing about these psychological aspects of the Book of Mormon is what it says about the religion which holds it to be sacred. This book gives a roadmap for the soul hidden in historical images and stories, and so acts as an examplar of the participative form of spirituality which is the Mormon religion. Like the LDS church's lay clergy and its monthly institution of fast and testimony meeting, the Book of Mormon forever declares that you are a part of its story, for your life is forever reflected in its pages. In other words, there is nothing which makes you less important than those Nephite or Lamanite prophets, for their story and yours are the same.

That's that for this post. Thanks for reading, and see you for part two!

Swedenborg and the Sun of Love

I want to introduce you to someone.

Emanuel Swedenborg was an eighteenth-century nobleman, scientist, and inventor. He designed a flying machine, had an IQ of 205, and would have been famous for his technological and scientific innovations had he died before his fifites. But as it turns out, he is famous for something else. You see, Emanuel Swedenborg claimed he could visit heaven and hell whenever he wanted to.

Right now your crazy-person-alarm bells are probably going off. But there is a lot of evidence supporting his claims. On the one hand, he taught the principe of right-and-left brain hemisphere lateraliztion centuries before it could be verified scientifically, and told of many other things which were only accepted scientifically in the very recent past. 

He also taught many things in accord with Mormon doctrine. For instance, he asserted that God appeared to angels in Heaven as a man. He also declared that heaven was divided into three parts, and called the highest one the Celestial Kingdom. And he went audaciously against the teachings of his time by saying that angels could only acheive the highest happiness in heaven by joining with another in eternal marriage.

But though these facts are compelling evidence that Swedenborg learned things from Heaven, the best evidence I could give for the truth of his claims is his effect on me. When I read Swedenborg's writings, I am suddenly reminded of the Book of Mormon's teaching that God speaks to men in their own language. You see, I am an academic. I think of things in terms of abstract ideas and concepts, and so the simplicity of the Gospel has often been a stumbling block for me. While not denying the importance of this simplicity, I cannot help but think that God used Swedenborg to show me that the Gospel isn't necessarily anti-intellectual, and that He can speak to us scientists and philosophers. When considering this, and the profound Spirit I feel when reading his writings, I feel very strongly that God led me to him as a part of a profound tender mercy.

He taught amazing things about the world to come. For instance, he says that in Heaven, emotional and physical distance are one and the same. This means that the closer you are to someone emotionally, the closer you actually draw to them in the literal, perceptual world. This gives me the profound comfort that I will be forever tied to those who I am close to, and that not even death can separate me from my friends and loved ones. He also taught that the things in Heaven form a living, symbolic reality, where everything exist both in a literal and a figurative way. Virtuous people in Heaven are beautiful, while sinful people are ugly. Everyone in Heaven actually turns their head to God, while everyone in Hell looks away. And your place in the afterlife is a symbolic representation of your joy and love on earth.

But by far, the most profound of these symbolic realties is Swedenborg's teachings on the sun in Heaven. I will quote his words on this subject in the book Heaven and Hell as follows:

"Even though neither this world’s sun nor anything derived from it is visible in heaven, there is a sun there; there is light and warmth, there are all the things we have in our world and many more—not from the same origin, though, since things in heaven are spiritual while things in our world are natural. Heaven’s sun is the Lord; light there is the divine truth and warmth the divine good that radiate from the Lord as the sun. Everything that comes into being and manifests itself in the heavens is from this source. [...] The reason the Lord in heaven appears as the sun is that he is the divine love from which all spiritual things come into being—and, through the agency of our world’s sun, all natural things as well. That love is what shines like a sun.”

God's love is the sun of Heaven. Everything you can see there you see by its light, and all things there are warmed by its heat. But this light is actually truth, for there we see something when we understand it. Similarly, the heat there is good, meaning that we will gain an inner warmth whenever we encounter something virtuous, lovely, or of good report.

But Swedenborg doesn't just say that this will happen, for he declares that we dwell in Heaven already. In a sense we live in both worlds, allowing both the suns of love and of flaming gas to affect our senses. But if this is true, why can't we see God's love? Why can't we access the joys of Heaven now? I have thought about this question, and I believe that we can.

To see Heaven, we must learn to see with new eyes. While our normal optical receptors provide us with aesthetic joys and delights, you can't deny that there is something lacking in everything we perceive with our five senses. The world as we see it always disappoints, leaving us to search after something more susbstantial. In truth, we can find this when we learn to see not with our earthly eyes, but with the eyes of our spirit. And this will happen when love, and when we feel love.

If everything in Heaven derives from love, should we be surprised that the most meaningful experiences in our life come when we love another person, or when we feel loved by them? When we do this, we open our spiritual eyes just a little, and we can peer ever so slightly into the grand vistas of the next life. But what if we were to ignore our earthly eyes altogether? What if we saw by love, and by love alone? We would not be bilnd, but we would actually see for the very first time. 

When we live by love, we cannot be denied the joys of Heaven. We will see the magnificent buildings and wildernesses of that place, reunite with lost loved ones, and even see God. But this will not happen with our natural eyes. To see this magnificent world of love, we must use a new sense, one which is at best only loosely connected with the other five, one of pure affection and devotion. Then we will know that this new world is the only real one, and that everything else was just a dim dream.

Surely Antoine de St. Exupéry was tapping into this world when he penned that "what is essential is invisible to the eyes. It is only with the heart that one sees rightly". When we love, we see people as they really are, as God sees them. It doesn't matter if they are ugly or awkward, and it doesn't matter if we are lacking where other people aren't - in love's light, we see both others and ourselves in the splendor and glory of Heaven. In this light, everything is of infinite worth, and nothing is forgotten. 

Swedenborg says that people only go to Hell if they willingly refuse this love. So if we are to learn anything from him, we must remember to see not with the eyes, but with the heart. We must see the love which ever and always emanates to us from Him, and use this love to see others for who they truly are. Truly this is eternal life, life as it should be - to live forever in the love of God,  and sharing that love with those who mean something to us.

I pray we will all someday experience that love, and see things not by the light of our sun, but ever as God sees them. I hope with all my heart that we can have this sight, and that we will not be forever limited to the dim joys of our senses. But until that day, we must have faith. We must trust to God that He will lead to this promised land, and will show us salvation.

Two Prayers - A Dialogue

I've gotten some really good feedback on the previous two posts, so I've decided to make these dialogues a continuing feature on my blog. However, what follows is a little unusual. In the space below, I imagine what the two characters from my first dialogue would say in their nightly prayers, and so delve into their motives and hidden feelings. It will also hopefully serve as a testimony to the power of a personal relationship with God,

Nevertheless, you should keep it in mind that neither of these characters is me. These characters are fictional, so don't  go inferring anything about me from them.

Ezekiel Snider opens the door leading into his dorm. He notices that his roommates are busy watching some inane television show. No matter; he has bigger fish to fry. He slowly and deliberately unlocks the door to his bedroom, steps inside, and closes it again. He kneels down in front of his bed, and offers a sigh. Eventually, he closes his eyes and begins to pray.

Ezekiel Snider: Father, I'm sorry for not going unto you in prayer as often as I should have. It is really quite an oversight on my part, and I ask you to please forgive me for it. 

A pause

ES: I suppose that I'm thankful for the opportunity you've given me to attend university...it's really been quite a junction for me to develop as a person. I'm also thankful for the friends I've come to have there.

He sighs

ES: I realize that I may sometimes be more condescending to people than is proper. I'm sorry for that. I try...I really do try very hard to be considerate and kind. But this is quite difficult. Father, please give me the strength I need to be understanding and empathetic, to show people that I care for them, and that I am listening. 

Silence

ES: Father...I ask you humbly for the ability to show love unto the people I meet. I met a man today, I think his name was Philip, and he did not strike me as a very happy fellow. Please bless him. And Father, if you ever grant me the pleasure of meeting him again, give me the strength to be more of a light in his darkness.

Another pause

ES: I...I realize that I don't have much of which to boast. I'm intelligent and witty, yes. But I lack even basic levels of kindness, and I know that I come across to people as conceited and aloof. Father, please give me the strength to deal with my weakness. No...please grant unto me the humility I need to be blessed with your....thy...Spirit.

He breathes in, deeply.

ES: Father, I love thee. I am so deeply thankful for all that thou has done to bless and show love unto me. I know that I am nothing on my own. But when I become filled with thy Spirit, I feel an indescribable love that seems to descend from heaven itself. When I feel this love, I know that thou art there with me. I still feel my weakness, but its sting....is gone. Father, please show me how I can have thy Spirit to be with me. I have tasted it, and its goodness has overwhelmed me. I...I feel thy love so strongly even now. Please let me know how I can cultivate it, or rather, please show unto me how I can share it with others.

He smiles, amidst the beginnings of tears.

ES: I thank thee for all my many blessings, and I say these things in the name of Jesus Christ. Amen.

Meanwhile in another part of the city, Philip Delacroix enters his bedroom. He too kneels down at his bedside and begins to pray.

Philip Delacroix: My Father in heaven, I thank thee for the many tender mercies you have given me. I know I don't deserve them. Father, I'm sorry for my transgressions. I've done so many bad things, and I wouldn't blame thee if thou shut off all forgiveness from me. But I know that thou will not. 

He smiles

PD: I'm so amazed at the forgiveness which thou gives to me. To myself, I am worthless, but I know that I am glorious to thee. I am the lowest of the low, but I know that my worth is great in thy eyes.

A pause

PD: Please bless those who are dealing with the same struggles as me. I know that my trials have been good for me, but wouldn't wish them on anyone else. Please give them the hope which I know thou can give. Please show them thy love.

He sighs

PD: Please let me know what I can do to help people. I know that I focus on my own trials a lot, and I ask thee for the strength I need to show love to others. 

Another pause

PD: Father, I am so thankful for everything which thou has done for me. To think of a person like me getting all the glorious blessings that you've given me...it's worthy of awe. Father, I am what I am because of thy tender mercies, and I thank thee for everything. I only ask for the strength to give it all back to thee.

He smiles again.

PD: Father, whenever I pray...I receive an increased testimony of thee and thy gospel. And I feel loved. I thank thee for that love, and I say these things in the name of thy beloved son, Jesus Christ. Amen.

A Dialogue about Bus Stops, Dead Fish, and the Value of Life

I've decided to continue my dialogue experiment. What follows is the encounter between Ezekiel Snider (a character from the previous post) and a character named Maude Patterson about suffering, life, and death. Also, if you're interested in Ezekiel's ideas, know that they were inspired by my reading of Schopenhauer's The World as Will and Representation.

Ezekiel Snider is sitting at a bus stop. He has an air of restlessness about him, and you could easily infer from his expression that the bus is quite late. Suddenly, a young woman walks up and sits down (almost) next to him. Ezekiel looks at her as she pulls out a magazine and begins to read. 

ES: Greetings! I'm Ezekiel.

Ezekiel looks at her expectantly. Maude peers over her reading, hesitantly.

Maude Patterson: Hi.

ES: I'd like to ask you a question.

MP [confused]: OK...

ES: What are your thoughts on suffering?

A pause.

MP: Wait, what?

ES: I have just returned from an encounter in yonder park. There, I had the distinct pleasure of meeting someone in the throes of distress, who made me think quite deeply about the nature of pain.

MP: I'm sorry?

ES: But I wonder - what are your thoughts on the nature of suffering? 

MP: OK - I'm just waiting for the bus. I'm not your therapist.

ES: Are you perhaps a philosopher?

MP: You're not serious.

ES: Quite.

MP [sighing]: No. I'm a nursing major.

ES: Have you perhaps experienced any pain recently?

Maude puts her magazine completely down.

MP: Do you normally ask girls at the bus stop if they're "suffering"?

ES: No. Only the ones who seem intelligent enough to respond meaningfully.

She looks at him, skeptically.

MP: If you're trying to flirt with me, you're doing a piss-poor job.

ES: Not primarily...perhaps only in an auxiliary or tertiary sense...

A pause, while Maude's face grows more dumbfounded.

ES: But the question remains: have you recently suffered in any meaningful way?

MP [sarcastic]: I dunno...my fish died yesterday. 

ES: Was it exceedingly tragic?

MP: Not really...

ES: I offer you my deepest consolations. If I can offer anything to ease your suffering, I would gladly do so.

MP: No thanks, I...

ES [interrupting]: I have a theory about death, you know.

MP: Oh. Great.

ES: Time, you see, is an endless striving after satisfaction.

MP: Striving, huh?

ES: Yes, most relevantly on the part of your deceased fish.

MP: And what was he striving after?

ES: Satisfaction, primarily after food.

MP: Well, he's not eating anymore.

ES: Yes, and that necessarily means that time has stopped!

Maude looks oddly at him

ES: For him, at least.

MP: That doesn't really make me feel any better.

ES: But don't you see? Time stopped for your fish because he transcended it. He is free from the bonds of temporality and the chains of cause and effect.

MP: So...you're saying that if I stop wanting things, I'll die.

ES: Well, that's the only way you can cease to want things. As long as you're alive, you'll always want food, water, and air, and you won't be free of them until you're free of life.

MP: I like those things, though.

ES: But that's only because you've never been free of them. The prisoner is fond of his jail if he's never left it, after all.

MP: My life isn't a prison. I happen to enjoy it.

ES: But of course it is! The same is true of everyone who's ever lived.

MP: OK...then what's so great about life after death, according to you?

ES: It is ultimate freedom. The world, you see, is only an illusion. When to die you shrug off the veil of falsity you bore for your entire life, and you see the world as it really is.

MP: Does that mean that those mountains aren't real?

She points at Mount Timpanogos

MP: What about laughter? Or hot chocloate? Or Disneyland?

ES: They're illusions on all fronts.

MP: You're crazy.

She starts reading her magazine again.

ES: And why do I deserve such a descriptor?

She puts it down again, frustrated.

MP: Life is awesome. Anyone who doesn't think so is insane.

ES: On the contrary, my dear. Life is full of suffering, and the only ways we can escape it is when we come closer to death. Death is the great liberator, and by quieting the unceasing barrage of life, we can come closer to its paradise.

Suddenly a bus pulls up. Maude begins to get on, when she notices that Ezekiel isn't coming.

MP: You getting on?

ES: No. I'm waiting for a different bus.

MP: OK. Have a good life, I guess.

ES: I won't. But good luck with your endeavors, in any case.

Maude rolls her eyes as she steps onto the bus. It pulls away, and leaves Ezekiel sitting alone.