Welcome to Part 2 of this series! In Part 1, I talked about the idea of a prophet-historian, and why Mormon may have been particularly well-suited to speak to us in our day. In this part, I'll talk about the context of the Book of Mormon.
I want to talk for a second about the plates of Nephi. There are two kinds: small plates and large plates. Early on in Nephite history, Nephi made it clear that he wanted to preserve the history of his people, but he also felt the need to keep a special record of spiritual things (2 Nephi 5:30-32). This was to be separate from the history, and shouldn’t include any more of that than was necessary for context. It was to focus on important revelations, great preaching and prophesying, and anything else of spiritual significance. but even then, it was only to include “the heads” of those things (Jacob 1:4). It was to be a distilled record of spiritual principles. It’s a key part of the record, and Mormon thought so too (Words of Mormon 1:4).
But it’s not the largest part of the record. In the large plates of Nephi, most of what we get is history. True, it’s often history seen through a spiritual lens, but it’s still history: kings, judges, armies, wars, migrations, settlements, monetary systems, religious trends, laws, and culture. A lot of politics. A lot of talk about liberty, equality, and the fate of nations. It’s a record of things that happened, with commentary on why they happened, and what we might learn from those events, even though sometimes the lessons aren’t spelled out. Maybe Mormon thought some of the events spoke for themselves.
Which brings us back to Nephi. While the Old Testament prophets had many ways of speaking, depending on their personalities and divine instructions, Nephi from the beginning seems to dictate only one style for the records of his people: plainness. He glories in plainness. He wants everyone to understand what he’s saying, even if they weren’t there (2 Nephi 25:4).
The subsequent writers (including Mormon, through whom all of their words are filtered) largely follow that pattern, and so The Book of Mormon comes to us as a very direct, plain-spoken sort of book. Maybe the King James-esque English it’s translated into poses difficulties for some modern speakers, but the linguistic style is still plain. Ordinary. Easy to understand.
There’s relatively little overt metaphor or symbolism in the book, and what there is usually gets an immediate explanation. The grammar tends to be relatively straightforward, with allowances for the personal style of each writer and linguistic differences. What art we find is largely the work of the documentarian who wishes to be understood, not the open-ended craft of the storyteller, or the art of the poet trying to conjure truth more than to explain it. Sometimes the language is beautiful, but it also strives to be clear. It’s a lecture. Or at times a sermon. It’s a record of events with a healthy dose of direct interpretation, intended to make sure we don’t miss the message.
This, to me, is more evidence that the book is written for us—people so far removed from the events being described that we lack any kind of contextual insight into them unless it’s handed to us straight. But hopefully also people who might recognize in these stories the pattern of things that are going on around us, too. I quote again these words, given in the midst of a rather harrowing description of our times:
“Jesus Christ hath shown you unto me, and I know your doing” (Mormon 8:35).
In other words, we are the larger context for the Book of Mormon. It’s Mormon’s prophetic foreknowledge of our times that guides him in his choice of what to put in the record. This is apparent from many parts of the book, but to use just one example, in the verses that surround the one quoted above, Mormon writes to us in our day in the same way that he and others have written about the Nephites: condemning our hard hearted iniquity, questioning our motives, accusing us of the same faults his people fell prey to, warning us of where it all leads, reminding us of the reasons we should know better. He directly connects us to his narrative, because we are the extension of it and the very reason for it. He’s lost hope for his own people, but not for us. So it’s to us that he writes.
But this isn’t very obscure or insightful. It’s hardly a new observation. Surely this isn’t the thing I’ve felt so compelled to say, right?
Yes and no. Because, just as Mormon realized, we are living through events very like those described in parts of the Book of Mormon. And just like in that book (and to the great sorrow and amazement of myself and others I know), too many of our own people, who have every reason to know better—including an ancient book of divinely inspired warning that they all hail as the keystone of their religion—are willing participants in some of the worst aspects of it.
That’s what the future installments of this series will be about: some of the things going on in our day that the Book of Mormon gives us pretty clear guidance on. Some of the things that seem like they should be plain to anyone who reads and believes it.
I’m going to do my best to keep it level-headed, non-partisan, and scripturally centered, but I will be delving into some hot topics. In part 3, I plan to explore some reasons for removing the taboo on mixing politics and religion, and maybe some ideas for how to integrate them in a non-destructive way. But for now, thanks for reading this far. I hope we get to do this again soon.
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