Abraham lived in Ur of the Chaldees - a productive agricultural land. It was watered by a large river and enjoyed a predictable growing season. Many people lived there and raised families. Paleontologists tell us that it was a lot greener in Abraham’s time than it is now. It’s easy to imagine that it was a nice place to live.
Abraham, however, was not destined to remain there. When his life was threatened by the city’s priests, he fled, leaving the relatively easy life than an arable land makes possible. He wandered a long time before finding the place God had prepared for him. One might be tempted to think that he deserved a nice place after all the trouble he had experienced. Instead he was given a wild and uncultivated land. He was given a desert.
Many years later, Abraham’s descendents (the family of his grandson Israel) were living in another lush agricultural land. This time it was in Egypt along the Nile River. No place in the world enjoyed a better place to grow crops. Each year the riparian land received a flush of fertility during the annual floods. It was the preeminent place for civilization.
But the Children of Israel were not destined to remain in this abundant landscape either. Over the period of generations, they had changed from being honored guests of the Pharaoh, to being his slaves. They too fled from their homes, like Abraham before, and wandered a long way - not to a fruitful land, but back to the desert.
In the early 19th Century, the young and growing Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints found itself in the rich deciduous forests of the American Midwest. The handful of early converts had migrated from New York and Pennsylvania to northern Ohio with its rich muck soils. They cleared the land and raised crops. But they were not able to stay. After being forced from their homes they settled again along the fertile lands of the Mississippi River. But they would not remain long there either.
Soon after the Prophet Joseph Smith and his brother Hyrum were martyred, the Saints packed up their belongings again and headed west. This time they left their fertile farms behind and pulled their wagons over the Rocky Mountains into the Salt Lake Valley - a high elevation desert.
And so it goes. A Chosen People is forced to flee from their homes. They rely upon the Lord for deliverance and direction, and He leads them to a Promised Land. Only this Promised Land isn’t really all that attractive. At least other people have pretty much left it alone, and for good reason: it doesn’t get much water. The Promised Land, as it turns out, is parched. In a word, it is a desert.
Is this all that a faithful people can hope for - sagebrush and sand? Or maybe this waterless wilderness isn’t meant to be a punishment at all but only the price one pays to be separated from the world. Or maybe - just maybe - there is something more. Maybe the desert is a particularly appropriate place for the People of God.
By definition a desert is a place that doesn’t get very much rain. When rain does fall, it often isn’t very predictable. The driest desert on earth is the Atacama Desert along the Pacific coast of South America. Some weather stations there have never recorded any rain at all. The Sahara and the Arabian Deserts usually get less than 4 inches of rain a year. The Gobi and Thar deserts usually get less than 10 inches. Other deserts get more. The Judean Desert gets less than 4 inches a year, although Jerusalem gets a bit more (averaging 19 inches). The Great Basin averages around 10 inches a year, although Salt Lake City averages around 16 inches.
What this means is that farming in these regions requires a lot of work. Wells have to be dug, or diversion canals have to be made. Yet even this does not guarantee a harvest. Fields have to be graded and then it still takes work to get water to the end of the row. Getting enough to eat is very much a dual effort. It requires a lot of physical work and it requires the bounties of the Creator. Because of this duality, the desert produces eminently practical and hardworking people with faith. And one can begin to see that living in a desert is less chastisement than a merciful gift. It is an opportunity to exchange a relatively carefree life for wisdom.
In its austerity, the desert is a great discounter of luxury and wealth. What matters more is sound judgment - and consistency. The desert may not give you a second chance.
Jacob Hamblin, one of the early settlers of the Mojave Desert, learned this the hard way. He lived along the Santa Clara River in Washington County, Utah during the late 19th Century. He was known for his wisdom in dealing with the Native Americans and learned a great deal from them. He knew, for example, that you could get water from the succulent leaves of a prickly pear cactus. You just had to get rid of the spines.
But one time Jacob found himself on the far end of the Mojave where there were plants he wasn’t familiar with. When he found himself without water he cut open the local variety of prickly pear - one that was colored a little different than he was familiar with - and quenched his thirst. A few hours later he was so sick he didn’t think he would survive. Fortunately for his family, he did, but not everybody is so fortunate.
Living in a desert says something about who you are. It’s like meeting someone at the top of a road-less mountain. You know they didn’t just get there by chance. No-one just happens upon the top of a mountain. You have to want to be there. So it is with the desert.
Even today with the luxuries of air conditioning, electricity and plenty of well water this continues to be true. But if most people are not cut out to live in the dessert, those that are will not be likely to leave it.
Perhaps it’s the magnificent sunsets, the wide open spaces, and the clear air that makes it so vital. Maybe it’s the magnificent carpets of wildflowers that bloom altogether after the rain. Or maybe it’s because of the loneliness or the austerity that broods there. Maybe it’s because the desert, like a mountain, is favored of God.
You might argue differently. After all, a moist forest enjoys a much greater abundance of living things. Clearly the Creator is partial to so much life. No doubt He is. But it is because of its abundance that it is so prone to human impiety. Human beings, after all, can live easily in a botanical paradise. And when things are easy, there is little reason to consider the divine.
The desert is different. Its very austerity is a repudiation of urban greed. There’s a reason the desert has been home for so many centuries to seekers of holiness. It offers itself as a holy place to those willing to work and do without the finer things in life. And in the absence of vainglory we can shed our shells of sufficiency. Then, as dependant sojourners in a harsh land, we find it is more natural to yield ourselves to God. Standing under a desert sky at night it becomes very apparent the He is not so very far away after all.
Wednesday, June 16, 2010
Wednesday, May 5, 2010
Adjectives I Have Kown and Loved (Aa-Am)
Abdominous (ab DOM in us) means potbellied, which (for personal reasons) I interpret to be something more than just hefty. This is one of those diplomatic words that you might use in describing a long and difficult flight - sitting next to the abdominous gentleman in coach class.
Abstruse (ab STROOS) means difficult to understand. It’s a valuable word for those situations when somebody’s lecture went over your head and you’re looking for consolation without feeling stupid. “Boy that was a boring class,” you might say, “and it was so abstruse.”
Abyssal (a BIS ul) refers to the deep parts of the ocean. It can also mean unfathomably extreme. Because it is so clearly related to the word “abyss” it can also imply a bottomless pit. Perhaps your boss is making decisions that will have dire - even abyssal - consequences.
Accelerative (ak SELL ur a tiv) is an interesting word that has nothing at all to do with relatives that look like celery. It means speeding things up. It is possible, though, that your Great Uncle Ebenezer is suffering from an accelerative senility.
Acerbic (a SURB ik) means sour, acidic or sharp. Biting into a lemon can cause an acerbic sensation. Biting into your mother-in-law might cause one too.
Achromic (ay CROW mik) means having no color. January near the coast can make for foggy and achromic days. I imagine that spelunking can too.
Aculeate (a KYOO li it) refers to stingers - especially those of bees and wasps. But there is ample etymological (as well as entomological) precedent to use the word in other ways. Maybe you know someone who constantly engages in aculeate conversation.
Adipose (AD i poze) refers to fatty tissue and certainly lends itself to diplomatic descriptions. You might, for instance, describe a guest as a kind and adipose acquaintance. Or then again, you might not.
Adrenal (a DREE nul) refers to the kidneys and is usually restricted to medical usage. One can easily see other opportunities for it however. “I have to go take a wiz,” might be more politely expressed as, “excuse me, there’s been a bit of an adrenal development that I must attend to”.
Adumbral (ad UM brul) refers to shadows or being in a shadow. A forest is an adumbral place. A miser has an adumbral face. A bride can hide in adumbral lace.
Aestival (ES tu vul) refers to the summer, or to passing the hot (and possibly dry) summer in a state of dormancy. Why not take an aestival afternoon nap when its hot?
Affable (AF a bul) means approachable or easy to talk to. Not everyone has the gift of the affable salesman. But we all might become an affable friend.
Affined (a FIND) is an old word not much used anymore referring to an affinity between people or objects. Sometimes the affinity is one of kinship but it doesn’t have to be. It is a useful word that allows for meanings hard to describe in other ways. A good friend, for example, can be an affined brother or sister - implying a sentiment approaching kinship.
Agminate (AG min it) means gathered into clusters. Most people have agminate preferences. We do live in neighborhoods and cities after all. Unfortunately, traffic problems (and accidents) are often agminate too.
Agonistic (ag u NIST ik) means competitive or argumentative. Lawyers have a reputation for being agonistic. Too bad for you if your office-mate is too.
Agrarian (a GRAIR y un) is a rustic word referring to the land and agriculture. An agrarian life is a life of healthy work and simple pleasures. Those of us frustrated by urban frenzy spend the week planning our agrarian escapes.
Agrestal (a GRES tul) means growing wild like weeds. If you like planting things more than weeding, you undoubtedly have an agrestal garden. On the other hand, your teenage son, who may not like gardening at all, may very well have an agrestal bedroom.
Akimbo (a KIM bo) means having the hands on the hips with the elbows turned outward. An akimbo glare from your mother would be imposing, even to the point of being a threat. But if your mother put on a cowboy hat, went out back and stared akimbo at the evening sky you might say she was a romantic.
Alary (AY lu ree) might sound like a sickness of sorts. But in fact it refers to wings. I guess if you’re afraid of heights you might also suffer from an alary ailment of sorts.
Aleatory (AY lee a tor ee) is another audibly confusing adjective. It has nothing to do with wings. It instead refers to luck or gambling. It’s the blackjack dealer and not the stewardess that has an aleatory employment. Maybe you do too and just didn’t know it.
Algological (al gah LOJ i kul) refers to algae, or the study off algae. I admit that this is a technical term used almost exclusively by biologists but it sounds so gutturally pleasing that we must find other uses for it. Say you forget to clean the swimming pool, for example. Why not ascribe your delinquency to algological preferences. Or, next time you go to a Korean restaurant you might impress your date. Instead of asking for roasted laver flakes, ask instead for the algological appetizers. Maybe you like earth tones. You could decorate your room in an algological theme.
Alible (AL a bul) refers to something that is nourishing or full of nutrients. but the ending also gives it a sense of something edible (at least it does to me). You might very appropriately compliment the cook on her alible dinner.
Alliterative (a LIT ur a tiv) refers to words that have the same initial sound. One has to have a certain literary bent to appreciate alliterative phrases. In fact reading these definitions may strike one as being altogether alarmingly alliterative. But what can one do?
Alluvial (a LOO vee ul) refers to the sediment left by flowing water. It’s also an appropriate word for such places. A park by a river is an alluvial park. Make sure you have flood insurance if you buy a house in an alluvial development.
Alpine (AL pine) refers to high mountains. Watch out for the last syllable, though. Alpine environments are above timberline and don’t refer to pine trees (although pines are often nearby). Alpine flowers, however, do have their high altitude charm. And those of us who love mountains and their brilliant night skies are convinced of their alpine inspiration.
Altruistic (al tru IS tik) refers to a concern for the welfare of others. It can also mean valuing the needs of others above your own. Watch out for specious claims of altruistic behavior. People who advertise their so-called philanthropy are not altruistic at all.
Amandine (a man DEEN) refers to almonds. You might see it on the menu of a fancy restaurant (swordfish amandine, for example) and think it is a foreign word. Not so. Chances are you enjoy a crunchy amandine cereal for breakfast, or an amandine granola bar for lunch.
Ambient (AM bee unt) means surrounding. It is a useful word that needs to escape from the rut of always describing conditions. My office, for example, used to overlook a lake and ambient forest. What’s nice about this use is the sense of ambience that comes with it.
Ambrosial (am BRO zhul) refers to a fragrance or taste that is worthy of the gods. Perhaps your mother’s cooking is truly ambrosial. Maybe your boyfriend has an ambrosial preference in perfume.
Ambulatory (AM byu la tor ee) has nothing to do with ambulances or the transportation of the injured. It refers to walking. You might prefer a refreshing ambulatory evening in the park instead of a mindless evening in front of the TV. Maybe you should think about getting a dog if you want an ambulatory friend.
Amenable (a MEE nub ul) means willing to follow advice or accept authority. It can also refer to someone who is open to criticism. It seems like the only place I see this word is in reference to negotiations of one kind or another. But it is possible to have an amenable personality. Believe it or not, it is even possible to be an amenable leader.
Amorphous (a MORE fus) refers to a lack of form or shape. It can also refer to a lack of character. A formless fog might be an amorphous morning mist. Unfortunately it might also be the basis of your favorite senator’s foreign policy.
Abstruse (ab STROOS) means difficult to understand. It’s a valuable word for those situations when somebody’s lecture went over your head and you’re looking for consolation without feeling stupid. “Boy that was a boring class,” you might say, “and it was so abstruse.”
Abyssal (a BIS ul) refers to the deep parts of the ocean. It can also mean unfathomably extreme. Because it is so clearly related to the word “abyss” it can also imply a bottomless pit. Perhaps your boss is making decisions that will have dire - even abyssal - consequences.
Accelerative (ak SELL ur a tiv) is an interesting word that has nothing at all to do with relatives that look like celery. It means speeding things up. It is possible, though, that your Great Uncle Ebenezer is suffering from an accelerative senility.
Acerbic (a SURB ik) means sour, acidic or sharp. Biting into a lemon can cause an acerbic sensation. Biting into your mother-in-law might cause one too.
Achromic (ay CROW mik) means having no color. January near the coast can make for foggy and achromic days. I imagine that spelunking can too.
Aculeate (a KYOO li it) refers to stingers - especially those of bees and wasps. But there is ample etymological (as well as entomological) precedent to use the word in other ways. Maybe you know someone who constantly engages in aculeate conversation.
Adipose (AD i poze) refers to fatty tissue and certainly lends itself to diplomatic descriptions. You might, for instance, describe a guest as a kind and adipose acquaintance. Or then again, you might not.
Adrenal (a DREE nul) refers to the kidneys and is usually restricted to medical usage. One can easily see other opportunities for it however. “I have to go take a wiz,” might be more politely expressed as, “excuse me, there’s been a bit of an adrenal development that I must attend to”.
Adumbral (ad UM brul) refers to shadows or being in a shadow. A forest is an adumbral place. A miser has an adumbral face. A bride can hide in adumbral lace.
Aestival (ES tu vul) refers to the summer, or to passing the hot (and possibly dry) summer in a state of dormancy. Why not take an aestival afternoon nap when its hot?
Affable (AF a bul) means approachable or easy to talk to. Not everyone has the gift of the affable salesman. But we all might become an affable friend.
Affined (a FIND) is an old word not much used anymore referring to an affinity between people or objects. Sometimes the affinity is one of kinship but it doesn’t have to be. It is a useful word that allows for meanings hard to describe in other ways. A good friend, for example, can be an affined brother or sister - implying a sentiment approaching kinship.
Agminate (AG min it) means gathered into clusters. Most people have agminate preferences. We do live in neighborhoods and cities after all. Unfortunately, traffic problems (and accidents) are often agminate too.
Agonistic (ag u NIST ik) means competitive or argumentative. Lawyers have a reputation for being agonistic. Too bad for you if your office-mate is too.
Agrarian (a GRAIR y un) is a rustic word referring to the land and agriculture. An agrarian life is a life of healthy work and simple pleasures. Those of us frustrated by urban frenzy spend the week planning our agrarian escapes.
Agrestal (a GRES tul) means growing wild like weeds. If you like planting things more than weeding, you undoubtedly have an agrestal garden. On the other hand, your teenage son, who may not like gardening at all, may very well have an agrestal bedroom.
Akimbo (a KIM bo) means having the hands on the hips with the elbows turned outward. An akimbo glare from your mother would be imposing, even to the point of being a threat. But if your mother put on a cowboy hat, went out back and stared akimbo at the evening sky you might say she was a romantic.
Alary (AY lu ree) might sound like a sickness of sorts. But in fact it refers to wings. I guess if you’re afraid of heights you might also suffer from an alary ailment of sorts.
Aleatory (AY lee a tor ee) is another audibly confusing adjective. It has nothing to do with wings. It instead refers to luck or gambling. It’s the blackjack dealer and not the stewardess that has an aleatory employment. Maybe you do too and just didn’t know it.
Algological (al gah LOJ i kul) refers to algae, or the study off algae. I admit that this is a technical term used almost exclusively by biologists but it sounds so gutturally pleasing that we must find other uses for it. Say you forget to clean the swimming pool, for example. Why not ascribe your delinquency to algological preferences. Or, next time you go to a Korean restaurant you might impress your date. Instead of asking for roasted laver flakes, ask instead for the algological appetizers. Maybe you like earth tones. You could decorate your room in an algological theme.
Alible (AL a bul) refers to something that is nourishing or full of nutrients. but the ending also gives it a sense of something edible (at least it does to me). You might very appropriately compliment the cook on her alible dinner.
Alliterative (a LIT ur a tiv) refers to words that have the same initial sound. One has to have a certain literary bent to appreciate alliterative phrases. In fact reading these definitions may strike one as being altogether alarmingly alliterative. But what can one do?
Alluvial (a LOO vee ul) refers to the sediment left by flowing water. It’s also an appropriate word for such places. A park by a river is an alluvial park. Make sure you have flood insurance if you buy a house in an alluvial development.
Alpine (AL pine) refers to high mountains. Watch out for the last syllable, though. Alpine environments are above timberline and don’t refer to pine trees (although pines are often nearby). Alpine flowers, however, do have their high altitude charm. And those of us who love mountains and their brilliant night skies are convinced of their alpine inspiration.
Altruistic (al tru IS tik) refers to a concern for the welfare of others. It can also mean valuing the needs of others above your own. Watch out for specious claims of altruistic behavior. People who advertise their so-called philanthropy are not altruistic at all.
Amandine (a man DEEN) refers to almonds. You might see it on the menu of a fancy restaurant (swordfish amandine, for example) and think it is a foreign word. Not so. Chances are you enjoy a crunchy amandine cereal for breakfast, or an amandine granola bar for lunch.
Ambient (AM bee unt) means surrounding. It is a useful word that needs to escape from the rut of always describing conditions. My office, for example, used to overlook a lake and ambient forest. What’s nice about this use is the sense of ambience that comes with it.
Ambrosial (am BRO zhul) refers to a fragrance or taste that is worthy of the gods. Perhaps your mother’s cooking is truly ambrosial. Maybe your boyfriend has an ambrosial preference in perfume.
Ambulatory (AM byu la tor ee) has nothing to do with ambulances or the transportation of the injured. It refers to walking. You might prefer a refreshing ambulatory evening in the park instead of a mindless evening in front of the TV. Maybe you should think about getting a dog if you want an ambulatory friend.
Amenable (a MEE nub ul) means willing to follow advice or accept authority. It can also refer to someone who is open to criticism. It seems like the only place I see this word is in reference to negotiations of one kind or another. But it is possible to have an amenable personality. Believe it or not, it is even possible to be an amenable leader.
Amorphous (a MORE fus) refers to a lack of form or shape. It can also refer to a lack of character. A formless fog might be an amorphous morning mist. Unfortunately it might also be the basis of your favorite senator’s foreign policy.
Wednesday, April 28, 2010
Review of The Creation by E.O. Wilson
E.O. Wilson’s book The Creation: An Appeal to Save Life on Earth was published by W.W. Norton & Company four years ago. It is a thin book, nothing like the author’s previous tomes about ants or Sociobiology. Nonetheless, this little book is important. It is Wilson’s attempt (as one of the most respected scientists alive today) to discuss with organized religion the loss of earth‘s biodiversity and to see what can be done about it. It is even an appeal for religion to join hands with science in this important undertaking (certainly no pun intended).
The book is a respectful gesture and an important one considering Wilson’s reputation and distinguished scientific career. It is nice to see an influential scientist acknowledging the need to work with the religious community. Wilson is from the South and his immediate audience is a Baptist Pastor. This, however, should not keep those of other faiths from reading the book. The issues are relevant to many religious groups; and Wilson, no doubt, would welcome all to the table.
Unfortunately, many of Wilson’s arguments will not set well with his intended audience. Not that life on earth isn’t religiously important - it is. The difficulty with Wilson’s approach is that it is too condescending. Even with his best intentions in mind - and it seems that they are genuine - he assumes a privileged position, even a moral high ground that can only distance his audience.
This, of course, is nothing new. It has always been the raw issue in so many disagreements between science and religion. Even so, I don’t mean to diminish Wilson’s contribution. If his book can start serious religious discussions about the importance of saving earth’s rich organic diversity, he will have done us a great favor.
Christian Interest in Natural History
There is a very real need to motivate religious people to take a larger interest in natural history, and Wilson has persuasively listed (in The Creation, The Diversity of Life, and elsewhere) many of the reasons why we should be motivated to do so. These include: economic reasons, medical discoveries, education, pleasure (including Biophilia) etc. There is one motivation, however, that he has missed. It is also the one motivation that is most important if we ever hope to bring about a renewal in religious natural history. This motivation is a desire to learn more about the Creator, by studying the Creation.
I say renewal because there is historical precedent for a Christian fascination with the natural world. (Perhaps other faiths have similar examples that I am not aware of.) Victorian England was so taken by the study of nature that it has come to be recognized as the Heyday of Natural History.
Lynn Barber describes the period thus: “Every Victorian lady, it seemed, could reel off the names of twenty different kinds of fern or fungus, and every Victorian clergyman nurtured a secret ambition to publish a natural history of his parish in imitation of Gilbert White. By the middle of the Century, there was hardly a middle-class drawing room in the country that did not contain an aquarium, a fern case, a butterfly cabinet, a seaweed album, a shell collection, or some other evidence of a taste for natural history…”
One reads about this time with wonderment at how many people were amateur naturalists - and the inescapable question becomes: could we ever regain that level of interest and enthusiasm? Sadly, I think, the answer is no, at least if we are restricted to Wilson’s list of motivations. The Victorian passion for nature was fueled by a combination of pleasure and education - two motivations acknowledged by Wilson. But even more important was the belief that one could understand things about God by studying the Creation. This passion was fueled by the belief that one could fulfill one’s religious duty and have fun at the same time. This combination of factors was strong enough to keep the English canvassing the countryside for natural curiosities for decades.
The reasons for the demise of this “heyday” aren’t all that clear. Part of the reason seems to be that natural history became too complicated for the amateur as more and more discoveries were made. Part of the reason also seems to be that, after Darwin, one could study nature without acknowledging the Creator. And, in fact, many scientists insisted on doing just that. Part of the reason was undoubtedly the inevitable changes of time.
Today the sciences of natural history are much more complicated than they were 150 years ago, and the divide separating science and religion is as great as it ever has been. Economic arguments to save species are laughably futile when it is so much easier to make money by tearing down a forest than to preserve it. Arguments from medicine fare no better. The hopes of decades past of harvesting complex biologically active molecules from nature have proven scarcely practicable. It’s much cheaper to make these molecules in an industrial reactor. Continuing advances in natural-products chemistry will ensure that this continues to be the case.
One can still make appeals to the beauty of the world but only a few people will listen. If there is any lesson for us hidden in the history of Victorian England, it is that we need to find convincing and meaningful lessons about life from nature if we seriously want to preserve her. Science is not able to do this. Religion can.
The Meaning of Life
Perhaps the most obvious difference between Wilson’s worldview and that of his audience is to be found on page 15, where he writes longingly for the time when nature will reveal (i.e. to a scientist) the great mystery of the meaning of human life. Statements like this can do little to solicit sympathy from Wilson’s religious audience.
Wilson is an acknowledged leader in evolutionary biology - a branch of science that is sometimes used to argue that reproductive success is the only meaning in life that there is. Wilson seems to be admitting that this is not enough. This is indeed an interesting admission but it seems naïve to me. Science has never been successful at answering questions of this kind. When it has tried, it has often led to disaster.
Many scientists decide not to go this far, deciding instead to follow the example of Wilson’s colleague at Harvard (the late Stephen Jay Gould) and restrict their research to what they can measure - the “ages of rocks,” say, and leave to religion the search for the “Rock of Ages” (Gould). Gould seems eminently wiser than Wilson on this count. Certainly religion has answered these questions so much more effectively than science has. This is, after all, their very raison d’être.
Asking a religious person to seek for the meaning of life from a scientist is like a sixth grader asking the school cook the value of taking physics - even while the physics teacher is sitting at the next table. It merges on the ridiculous. Wilson would make more friends and promote his agenda much more effectively if he would acknowledge this religious strength. The truth is that our religious faiths have rich traditions that value life, in all of its forms. Wilson’s failure to acknowledge this not only weakens his case, it reveals his lack of understanding about these traditions. He should have more faith in Faith. It has a much greater potential for saving life on earth than science does.
Human Nature
Another diplomatic mistake Wilson makes is his discussion about human nature. One would have expected a bit more sensitivity about this from the man who won a Pulitzer Prize for his book, On Human Nature, and who has weathered many heated battles provoked by this controversial subject. His mistake is to believe that religious traditions will gladly accept a scientific explanation about who we, as human beings, are and then disregard their own deeply held beliefs.
To Wilson (a staunch materialist) our genetic make-up limits who we are. It is our culture - including our religions - that can and need to change, in order to save our planet. Wilson should know that religion will never accommodate this presumption in the least. The laws that govern human life - manmade laws, that is - may be arbitrary at times, like changing traffic rules, or public curfews. But religion also recognizes higher laws that do not change, laws that are less changing than the genes we have inherited from our parents.
Wilson wants us to believe that our religious traditions can change. He wisely refrains from saying that our moral codes evolve, but this is what he means. He wants to persuade American Christians that they can change their beliefs to accommodate a controversial agenda. This is a significant misjudgment on his part. Christians in general - and a Southern Pastor specifically - are not about to yield their belief in higher laws to the evolutionary arguments of a scientist. In fact Americans have a long history of refusing to yield the Higher Law to anybody. Call us stubborn if you like, but we based our national existence on this argument in the Declaration of Independence when we refused to yield it to a king. Magna Carta was an instance where we wouldn’t yield it to another king or even to the Pope.
Wilson would have done better if he had done his homework and learned about this commitment and about the rich discussions that thoughtful Christians are having (and have had) about the Creation and the Fall. There is much to be found here about stewardships and basic human responsibilities for the earth. I find these arguments much more persuasive than the economic candy cane that Wilson hopes to entice us with, and which amounts to nothing more than an appeal to our selfishness. The significant effort needed to save life on earth requires a much greater commitment than this. It requires a determination from a free and a devout people committed to a higher law.
Denial
In Chapter 9 Wilson warns us about denying our responsibilities to preserve life. He reminds us of our losses, including the passenger pigeon and the Carolina parakeet. He also minds us of those species we have almost lost: the black robin, the ivory billed woodpecker, the bison. I have examples of my own to add to the list. Several insects that I have discovered myself (species that bear my name as author) are only known from small populations and from limited areas. Many Christians, me included, are keenly aware of the sad history of our environmental neglect, and that we are losing, at an alarming rate, so much of the Creation. But Wilson and his sympathizers need to know that our commitment is different than theirs. If we want to save life we will have to be committed to doing so on our own terms. We will not be persuaded by scientific arguments that lack understanding.
Let me add a little perspective here. Wilson thinks that religion was useful for a while but that science has taken the torch of progress and is lighting the way to a much richer understanding of life on earth. He outlines for us in Chapter 11 what some of these illuminating scientific goals are: the creation of a tree of life, improvements in medicine, knowledge of the chemical and electrical nature of the mind, the creation of life itself in a test tube, etc.
Now some of these are noble goals, but some of them are highly presumptuous. I fail to see here anything close to what a thoughtful Christian sees in the created order: an understanding of the Creator, insight into eternal laws, perspective about human dignity. Wilson has admitted elsewhere (see Consilience) that he can get along just fine without this kind of religious understanding. Yet he also admits that most people cannot. How then does he ever expect to create an army of Christian conservationists with such condescending arguments? One tends to feel either resentment or pity at his misjudgments, hardly agreement.
Intelligent Design
At times Wilson demonstrates a willingness to cooperate with his religious counterparts. Part V begins with a recognition that science does need religion to save the Creation. This is certainly an encouraging concession. Unfortunately it is followed by perhaps the biggest miscalculation in the book: Wilson’s discounting of Intelligent Design.
No doubt Wilson has a bone to pick with Christian Fundamentalists - even with the Pastor to whom he addresses his book. And he is certainly keen to make sure he does not appear to concede anything to their camp. But he should know that, by picking up his pen to write to about the Creation to a Southern Pastor, any cooperation will be impossible unless he is willing to strike a compromise on Intelligent Design - a very sensitive subject in the South.
I don’t mean by compromise that Wilson suddenly adopt creationist tenets. Nobody would believe him if he did. But one can believe in a Darwinian process in the development of Life and still acknowledge our limited understanding about its history. One can still admit that religion represents a valid (even a critical) orientation to the world. Great scientists have recognized this for as long as science has existed. If Wilson cannot concede that Intelligent Design may have its own valuable insights into the creation he has no dialogue with his Southern friends.
This is a shame. Intelligent Design is the most promising development to come along in years for leveraging a Christian ethic of conservation. It’s too bad that Wilson has not been more careful about this. He could have been so much more convincing. We are left waiting for someone wiser to pick up the cause - very likely this someone will be a Christian.
References
Barber, Lynn. 1980. The Heyday of Natural History. Doubleday & Company, Garden City, New York.
Gould, Stephen Jay. 1999. Rocks of Ages, Science and Religion in the Fullness of Life. The Ballantine Publishing Group, New York. (See page 6.)
Wilson, E.O. 1978. On Human Nature. Harvard University Press, Cambridge, Massachusetts.
Wilson, E.O. 1998. Consilience, the Unity of Knowledge. Alfred A Knopf, New York.
Wilson, E.O. 2006. The Creation, an Appeal to Save Life on Earth. W.W. Norton & Company, New York.
The book is a respectful gesture and an important one considering Wilson’s reputation and distinguished scientific career. It is nice to see an influential scientist acknowledging the need to work with the religious community. Wilson is from the South and his immediate audience is a Baptist Pastor. This, however, should not keep those of other faiths from reading the book. The issues are relevant to many religious groups; and Wilson, no doubt, would welcome all to the table.
Unfortunately, many of Wilson’s arguments will not set well with his intended audience. Not that life on earth isn’t religiously important - it is. The difficulty with Wilson’s approach is that it is too condescending. Even with his best intentions in mind - and it seems that they are genuine - he assumes a privileged position, even a moral high ground that can only distance his audience.
This, of course, is nothing new. It has always been the raw issue in so many disagreements between science and religion. Even so, I don’t mean to diminish Wilson’s contribution. If his book can start serious religious discussions about the importance of saving earth’s rich organic diversity, he will have done us a great favor.
Christian Interest in Natural History
There is a very real need to motivate religious people to take a larger interest in natural history, and Wilson has persuasively listed (in The Creation, The Diversity of Life, and elsewhere) many of the reasons why we should be motivated to do so. These include: economic reasons, medical discoveries, education, pleasure (including Biophilia) etc. There is one motivation, however, that he has missed. It is also the one motivation that is most important if we ever hope to bring about a renewal in religious natural history. This motivation is a desire to learn more about the Creator, by studying the Creation.
I say renewal because there is historical precedent for a Christian fascination with the natural world. (Perhaps other faiths have similar examples that I am not aware of.) Victorian England was so taken by the study of nature that it has come to be recognized as the Heyday of Natural History.
Lynn Barber describes the period thus: “Every Victorian lady, it seemed, could reel off the names of twenty different kinds of fern or fungus, and every Victorian clergyman nurtured a secret ambition to publish a natural history of his parish in imitation of Gilbert White. By the middle of the Century, there was hardly a middle-class drawing room in the country that did not contain an aquarium, a fern case, a butterfly cabinet, a seaweed album, a shell collection, or some other evidence of a taste for natural history…”
One reads about this time with wonderment at how many people were amateur naturalists - and the inescapable question becomes: could we ever regain that level of interest and enthusiasm? Sadly, I think, the answer is no, at least if we are restricted to Wilson’s list of motivations. The Victorian passion for nature was fueled by a combination of pleasure and education - two motivations acknowledged by Wilson. But even more important was the belief that one could understand things about God by studying the Creation. This passion was fueled by the belief that one could fulfill one’s religious duty and have fun at the same time. This combination of factors was strong enough to keep the English canvassing the countryside for natural curiosities for decades.
The reasons for the demise of this “heyday” aren’t all that clear. Part of the reason seems to be that natural history became too complicated for the amateur as more and more discoveries were made. Part of the reason also seems to be that, after Darwin, one could study nature without acknowledging the Creator. And, in fact, many scientists insisted on doing just that. Part of the reason was undoubtedly the inevitable changes of time.
Today the sciences of natural history are much more complicated than they were 150 years ago, and the divide separating science and religion is as great as it ever has been. Economic arguments to save species are laughably futile when it is so much easier to make money by tearing down a forest than to preserve it. Arguments from medicine fare no better. The hopes of decades past of harvesting complex biologically active molecules from nature have proven scarcely practicable. It’s much cheaper to make these molecules in an industrial reactor. Continuing advances in natural-products chemistry will ensure that this continues to be the case.
One can still make appeals to the beauty of the world but only a few people will listen. If there is any lesson for us hidden in the history of Victorian England, it is that we need to find convincing and meaningful lessons about life from nature if we seriously want to preserve her. Science is not able to do this. Religion can.
The Meaning of Life
Perhaps the most obvious difference between Wilson’s worldview and that of his audience is to be found on page 15, where he writes longingly for the time when nature will reveal (i.e. to a scientist) the great mystery of the meaning of human life. Statements like this can do little to solicit sympathy from Wilson’s religious audience.
Wilson is an acknowledged leader in evolutionary biology - a branch of science that is sometimes used to argue that reproductive success is the only meaning in life that there is. Wilson seems to be admitting that this is not enough. This is indeed an interesting admission but it seems naïve to me. Science has never been successful at answering questions of this kind. When it has tried, it has often led to disaster.
Many scientists decide not to go this far, deciding instead to follow the example of Wilson’s colleague at Harvard (the late Stephen Jay Gould) and restrict their research to what they can measure - the “ages of rocks,” say, and leave to religion the search for the “Rock of Ages” (Gould). Gould seems eminently wiser than Wilson on this count. Certainly religion has answered these questions so much more effectively than science has. This is, after all, their very raison d’être.
Asking a religious person to seek for the meaning of life from a scientist is like a sixth grader asking the school cook the value of taking physics - even while the physics teacher is sitting at the next table. It merges on the ridiculous. Wilson would make more friends and promote his agenda much more effectively if he would acknowledge this religious strength. The truth is that our religious faiths have rich traditions that value life, in all of its forms. Wilson’s failure to acknowledge this not only weakens his case, it reveals his lack of understanding about these traditions. He should have more faith in Faith. It has a much greater potential for saving life on earth than science does.
Human Nature
Another diplomatic mistake Wilson makes is his discussion about human nature. One would have expected a bit more sensitivity about this from the man who won a Pulitzer Prize for his book, On Human Nature, and who has weathered many heated battles provoked by this controversial subject. His mistake is to believe that religious traditions will gladly accept a scientific explanation about who we, as human beings, are and then disregard their own deeply held beliefs.
To Wilson (a staunch materialist) our genetic make-up limits who we are. It is our culture - including our religions - that can and need to change, in order to save our planet. Wilson should know that religion will never accommodate this presumption in the least. The laws that govern human life - manmade laws, that is - may be arbitrary at times, like changing traffic rules, or public curfews. But religion also recognizes higher laws that do not change, laws that are less changing than the genes we have inherited from our parents.
Wilson wants us to believe that our religious traditions can change. He wisely refrains from saying that our moral codes evolve, but this is what he means. He wants to persuade American Christians that they can change their beliefs to accommodate a controversial agenda. This is a significant misjudgment on his part. Christians in general - and a Southern Pastor specifically - are not about to yield their belief in higher laws to the evolutionary arguments of a scientist. In fact Americans have a long history of refusing to yield the Higher Law to anybody. Call us stubborn if you like, but we based our national existence on this argument in the Declaration of Independence when we refused to yield it to a king. Magna Carta was an instance where we wouldn’t yield it to another king or even to the Pope.
Wilson would have done better if he had done his homework and learned about this commitment and about the rich discussions that thoughtful Christians are having (and have had) about the Creation and the Fall. There is much to be found here about stewardships and basic human responsibilities for the earth. I find these arguments much more persuasive than the economic candy cane that Wilson hopes to entice us with, and which amounts to nothing more than an appeal to our selfishness. The significant effort needed to save life on earth requires a much greater commitment than this. It requires a determination from a free and a devout people committed to a higher law.
Denial
In Chapter 9 Wilson warns us about denying our responsibilities to preserve life. He reminds us of our losses, including the passenger pigeon and the Carolina parakeet. He also minds us of those species we have almost lost: the black robin, the ivory billed woodpecker, the bison. I have examples of my own to add to the list. Several insects that I have discovered myself (species that bear my name as author) are only known from small populations and from limited areas. Many Christians, me included, are keenly aware of the sad history of our environmental neglect, and that we are losing, at an alarming rate, so much of the Creation. But Wilson and his sympathizers need to know that our commitment is different than theirs. If we want to save life we will have to be committed to doing so on our own terms. We will not be persuaded by scientific arguments that lack understanding.
Let me add a little perspective here. Wilson thinks that religion was useful for a while but that science has taken the torch of progress and is lighting the way to a much richer understanding of life on earth. He outlines for us in Chapter 11 what some of these illuminating scientific goals are: the creation of a tree of life, improvements in medicine, knowledge of the chemical and electrical nature of the mind, the creation of life itself in a test tube, etc.
Now some of these are noble goals, but some of them are highly presumptuous. I fail to see here anything close to what a thoughtful Christian sees in the created order: an understanding of the Creator, insight into eternal laws, perspective about human dignity. Wilson has admitted elsewhere (see Consilience) that he can get along just fine without this kind of religious understanding. Yet he also admits that most people cannot. How then does he ever expect to create an army of Christian conservationists with such condescending arguments? One tends to feel either resentment or pity at his misjudgments, hardly agreement.
Intelligent Design
At times Wilson demonstrates a willingness to cooperate with his religious counterparts. Part V begins with a recognition that science does need religion to save the Creation. This is certainly an encouraging concession. Unfortunately it is followed by perhaps the biggest miscalculation in the book: Wilson’s discounting of Intelligent Design.
No doubt Wilson has a bone to pick with Christian Fundamentalists - even with the Pastor to whom he addresses his book. And he is certainly keen to make sure he does not appear to concede anything to their camp. But he should know that, by picking up his pen to write to about the Creation to a Southern Pastor, any cooperation will be impossible unless he is willing to strike a compromise on Intelligent Design - a very sensitive subject in the South.
I don’t mean by compromise that Wilson suddenly adopt creationist tenets. Nobody would believe him if he did. But one can believe in a Darwinian process in the development of Life and still acknowledge our limited understanding about its history. One can still admit that religion represents a valid (even a critical) orientation to the world. Great scientists have recognized this for as long as science has existed. If Wilson cannot concede that Intelligent Design may have its own valuable insights into the creation he has no dialogue with his Southern friends.
This is a shame. Intelligent Design is the most promising development to come along in years for leveraging a Christian ethic of conservation. It’s too bad that Wilson has not been more careful about this. He could have been so much more convincing. We are left waiting for someone wiser to pick up the cause - very likely this someone will be a Christian.
References
Barber, Lynn. 1980. The Heyday of Natural History. Doubleday & Company, Garden City, New York.
Gould, Stephen Jay. 1999. Rocks of Ages, Science and Religion in the Fullness of Life. The Ballantine Publishing Group, New York. (See page 6.)
Wilson, E.O. 1978. On Human Nature. Harvard University Press, Cambridge, Massachusetts.
Wilson, E.O. 1998. Consilience, the Unity of Knowledge. Alfred A Knopf, New York.
Wilson, E.O. 2006. The Creation, an Appeal to Save Life on Earth. W.W. Norton & Company, New York.
Saturday, April 10, 2010
Butch Cassidy Did Not Die in Bolivia
My Grandfather Wells knew Butch Cassidy as a young man and worked with one of his partners. Below is his account taken from his personal history (copied with permission from my father's (Jerry D. Wells) Samuel Morgan Wells and Minnie Zoe Lisonbee. Brigham Young University Press, Provo, Utah 2003. pp. 13-15) that sheds light on the outlaw's final years. My grandfather was convinced that he did not die in Bolivia. You can read his account below and decide for yourself. I have no reason to doubt my grandfather who was an honorable man.
"I remember several times that Butch Cassidy and Ezra Leigh came and stopped at Alma’s place before they robbed the Castle Gate paymaster. To know them any one would never think they could rob anyone. They were very nice and polite young men. Everyone around there that knew them sure liked them. When we heard that they had robbed the Castle Gate paymaster, whose name was Carpenter, at first people wouldn’t believe it was them, they were such nice and harmless young men.
I have read several stories that was written about the robbers and how many robberies they committed and how many people they killed. Well, Robbers Roost gang weren’t out to kill people. They were out to steal from the rich and help the poor. For instance, Butch stopped at a place one day. There was just an old man and his wife. And the wife was crying. Butch wanted to know what was the matter, The woman told him that there was $500 mortgage past due on their home and the man was coming that day to take the place.
So Butch went out to his horse and in a few minutes returned and gave the woman twenty-five twenty-dollar gold pieces and told the woman to make the man give all the mortgage papers before she gave him the money. Then, when she got all the papers she should burn them right away. And he cautioned her the second time to not lay the papers down but to burn them.
Then Butch left. The man came alright, with the sheriff, to take possession. The lady asked the sheriff if he had all the papers and he told her he did. Then she gave the sheriff her money and he in turn gave her the mortgage papers. Then he gave the man the money. And it was getting late in the evening but the man didn’t get home with his $500.00 in gold. A man stepped out in the road and told him to give him the twenty-five twenty-dollar gold pieces that he had and the man obeyed because the man was holding a 45 on his middle. Then the robber told him to get off his horse and turn it loose and start it home, but to let the horse get a good start ahead of him—then he could walk home.
The sheriff stayed at the ranch with the old couple until dark. He was a little suspicious of where those old people got them twenty-dollar gold pieces. But he didn’t get anywhere with them. So he started home. When he got about a mile from the ranch he met a man coming along the road. And the stranger stopped and asked him if he knew where he could find a place to stop for the night. Butch said he was a stranger in the country. The sheriff told him there was a ranch about a mile back that he was satisfied he could stay and they each went their ways.
But Butch only stopped long enough to leave a note of congratulations and five twenty dollar gold pieces on their doorstep.
Now this story about Butch and the mortgage was told to me by Matt Warner and I believe he told me the absolute truth.
I knew Matt a long time. He was with the outlaw bunch at one time. But he was a man that anyone could depend on. I never heard of him telling a lie. I was with Matt quite a lot one winter. I hauled beef from Victor to Price one winter. He bought beef from Chris Jensen at Victor. My brother Bill, and I would help Matt kill the beef. Then we would load the beef in my car. Then Matt and I would take it to the butcher shop at Price. Matt told me how he came to be an outlaw and he told me his real name. His name was Willie Christensen.
The reason Matt Warner turned to be an outlaw—he got into a fight with the cop in his home town one night and thought he had killed the cop. The cop was in the hospital for a long time but he finally got all right. But during that (time) Matt had joined with a band of outlaws that had their headquarters in Brown’s Hole, which is located on Green River on the line between Utah and Wyoming.
When Matt left, he had a wife and two children, one boy and one girl. He said it was about 1 ½ years before he dared to go see his wife and family. He said then he would have to sneak in after dark and leave before daylight. It was just a few years after that Matt’s wife died. So Matt went to the funeral. While he was there the officers didn’t molest him. But after the funeral they nabbed him and was going to put him in jail. He submitted to arrest peacefully but he made one request of the two cops that had him and that was to let him have ten minutes alone in the house with his children.
So they took his gun and told him to go in and they would stand guard at the door, but for him not to try any tricks or they would kill him. He thanked them very kindly and told them he would always remember them. So he went in the house and closed the door.
But there was one thing the cops didn’t know and that was that, when Matt came home to visit his family, he made a secret getaway by a loose board in the bed room floor and two loose rocks in the foundation by some shrubs that grew behind the house. And they didn’t know that two young men that was to the funeral was in the barn with three saddle horses ready to go. Well, when fifteen minutes rolled around, the cops went in the house and the grandmother was all they could find in the house. And they never did find where Matt got out of the house.
The two strangers that was at Matt’s wife’s funeral was none other than Butch Cassidy and Ezra Lathe. No one knew them in that country at that time.
LeRoy Parker, alias Butch Cassidy, was born and raised in Grass Valley in Southern Utah. He was raised in a Mormon town and attended L. D. S. church regularly. One night when he was escorting his lady friend home from Mutual there was a bully came along and tried to take the girl away from him and they got into a battle and LeRoy knocked the fellow out cold and he supposed that he had killed him. So he left and came to the Granite Ranch, here in Wayne County. Granite Ranch is eighteen miles south of Hanksville. The Ranch was owned by a cattle man by the name of Burr and all the desert between Granite Wash and Poison Spring Wash and the Dirty Devil River is called the Burr Desert.
Well, LeRoy Parker came to Granite Ranch and applied for a job as cowpuncher. Mr. Burr asked him what his handle was and he said it was Butch Cassidy. He stayed there about one year then he came to Hanksville and got a job from Charley Gibbons and worked for him quite awhile. Then he left and went on the outlaw trail and ended up in Brown’s Hole Wyoming.
The story of Matt Warner and Butch Cassidy was told to me by Matt Warner and the story of Butch Cassidy was told to me by Charley Gibbons after I came to Hanksvffle in 1935. And the story Matt and Charley told about Butch was identical so I believe they were true.
Charles Kelly of Fruita, Wayne County, Utah, wrote a book, the title of it is The Last of the Robbers Roost Outlaws, and in the story he had Butch and Ezra killed in South America. But, since I came to Hanksville, Charley Gibbons let me read a letter that Butch wrote him telling Charley that he, Butch had quit the outlaw trail and bought a ranch in Colorado, got married, and was living happy with a beautiful wife and two children. But Charley didn’t let me see what part of Colorado the letter came from."
"I remember several times that Butch Cassidy and Ezra Leigh came and stopped at Alma’s place before they robbed the Castle Gate paymaster. To know them any one would never think they could rob anyone. They were very nice and polite young men. Everyone around there that knew them sure liked them. When we heard that they had robbed the Castle Gate paymaster, whose name was Carpenter, at first people wouldn’t believe it was them, they were such nice and harmless young men.
I have read several stories that was written about the robbers and how many robberies they committed and how many people they killed. Well, Robbers Roost gang weren’t out to kill people. They were out to steal from the rich and help the poor. For instance, Butch stopped at a place one day. There was just an old man and his wife. And the wife was crying. Butch wanted to know what was the matter, The woman told him that there was $500 mortgage past due on their home and the man was coming that day to take the place.
So Butch went out to his horse and in a few minutes returned and gave the woman twenty-five twenty-dollar gold pieces and told the woman to make the man give all the mortgage papers before she gave him the money. Then, when she got all the papers she should burn them right away. And he cautioned her the second time to not lay the papers down but to burn them.
Then Butch left. The man came alright, with the sheriff, to take possession. The lady asked the sheriff if he had all the papers and he told her he did. Then she gave the sheriff her money and he in turn gave her the mortgage papers. Then he gave the man the money. And it was getting late in the evening but the man didn’t get home with his $500.00 in gold. A man stepped out in the road and told him to give him the twenty-five twenty-dollar gold pieces that he had and the man obeyed because the man was holding a 45 on his middle. Then the robber told him to get off his horse and turn it loose and start it home, but to let the horse get a good start ahead of him—then he could walk home.
The sheriff stayed at the ranch with the old couple until dark. He was a little suspicious of where those old people got them twenty-dollar gold pieces. But he didn’t get anywhere with them. So he started home. When he got about a mile from the ranch he met a man coming along the road. And the stranger stopped and asked him if he knew where he could find a place to stop for the night. Butch said he was a stranger in the country. The sheriff told him there was a ranch about a mile back that he was satisfied he could stay and they each went their ways.
But Butch only stopped long enough to leave a note of congratulations and five twenty dollar gold pieces on their doorstep.
Now this story about Butch and the mortgage was told to me by Matt Warner and I believe he told me the absolute truth.
I knew Matt a long time. He was with the outlaw bunch at one time. But he was a man that anyone could depend on. I never heard of him telling a lie. I was with Matt quite a lot one winter. I hauled beef from Victor to Price one winter. He bought beef from Chris Jensen at Victor. My brother Bill, and I would help Matt kill the beef. Then we would load the beef in my car. Then Matt and I would take it to the butcher shop at Price. Matt told me how he came to be an outlaw and he told me his real name. His name was Willie Christensen.
The reason Matt Warner turned to be an outlaw—he got into a fight with the cop in his home town one night and thought he had killed the cop. The cop was in the hospital for a long time but he finally got all right. But during that (time) Matt had joined with a band of outlaws that had their headquarters in Brown’s Hole, which is located on Green River on the line between Utah and Wyoming.
When Matt left, he had a wife and two children, one boy and one girl. He said it was about 1 ½ years before he dared to go see his wife and family. He said then he would have to sneak in after dark and leave before daylight. It was just a few years after that Matt’s wife died. So Matt went to the funeral. While he was there the officers didn’t molest him. But after the funeral they nabbed him and was going to put him in jail. He submitted to arrest peacefully but he made one request of the two cops that had him and that was to let him have ten minutes alone in the house with his children.
So they took his gun and told him to go in and they would stand guard at the door, but for him not to try any tricks or they would kill him. He thanked them very kindly and told them he would always remember them. So he went in the house and closed the door.
But there was one thing the cops didn’t know and that was that, when Matt came home to visit his family, he made a secret getaway by a loose board in the bed room floor and two loose rocks in the foundation by some shrubs that grew behind the house. And they didn’t know that two young men that was to the funeral was in the barn with three saddle horses ready to go. Well, when fifteen minutes rolled around, the cops went in the house and the grandmother was all they could find in the house. And they never did find where Matt got out of the house.
The two strangers that was at Matt’s wife’s funeral was none other than Butch Cassidy and Ezra Lathe. No one knew them in that country at that time.
LeRoy Parker, alias Butch Cassidy, was born and raised in Grass Valley in Southern Utah. He was raised in a Mormon town and attended L. D. S. church regularly. One night when he was escorting his lady friend home from Mutual there was a bully came along and tried to take the girl away from him and they got into a battle and LeRoy knocked the fellow out cold and he supposed that he had killed him. So he left and came to the Granite Ranch, here in Wayne County. Granite Ranch is eighteen miles south of Hanksville. The Ranch was owned by a cattle man by the name of Burr and all the desert between Granite Wash and Poison Spring Wash and the Dirty Devil River is called the Burr Desert.
Well, LeRoy Parker came to Granite Ranch and applied for a job as cowpuncher. Mr. Burr asked him what his handle was and he said it was Butch Cassidy. He stayed there about one year then he came to Hanksville and got a job from Charley Gibbons and worked for him quite awhile. Then he left and went on the outlaw trail and ended up in Brown’s Hole Wyoming.
The story of Matt Warner and Butch Cassidy was told to me by Matt Warner and the story of Butch Cassidy was told to me by Charley Gibbons after I came to Hanksvffle in 1935. And the story Matt and Charley told about Butch was identical so I believe they were true.
Charles Kelly of Fruita, Wayne County, Utah, wrote a book, the title of it is The Last of the Robbers Roost Outlaws, and in the story he had Butch and Ezra killed in South America. But, since I came to Hanksville, Charley Gibbons let me read a letter that Butch wrote him telling Charley that he, Butch had quit the outlaw trail and bought a ranch in Colorado, got married, and was living happy with a beautiful wife and two children. But Charley didn’t let me see what part of Colorado the letter came from."
Friday, April 2, 2010
Nicodemus
“There was a man of the Pharisees, named Nicodemus a ruler of the Jews: The same came to Jesus by night, and said unto him, Rabbi, we know that thou art a teacher come from God: for no man can do these miracles that thou doest, except God be with him. Jesus answered and said unto him, Verily, verily, I say unto thee, Except a man be born again, he cannot see the kingdom of God. Nicodemus saith unto him, How can a man be born when he is old? can he enter the second time into his mother’s womb, and be born?” - John 3:1-4
Nicodemus was a ruler of the Jews. This has been understood to mean that he was a member of the Sanhedrin, the ruling Jewish council of Elders. He is mentioned three times in the Gospel of John: once talking with Jesus, once defending Jesus before the Pharisees, and once helping in the burial of Jesus. In the later capacity he assisted Joseph of Arimathea, who was also a member of the Sanhedrin.
These acts of kindness to Jesus (along with possibly others) exposed both Nicodemus and Joseph of Arimathea to the ridicule of other Jewish leaders - especially during the delicate political situation at the end of Jesus’ ministry. Christian tradition accepts that Joseph of Arimathea was an adopted father of Jesus. Joseph the Carpenter was believed to have been an older man when he took Mary to wife. When he died, Jesus was still a boy. It is claimed that Joseph of Arimathea took it upon himself to care for the fatherless family (see Tuchman). He was said to have been a tin merchant and possibly a relative of the family. It is clear that he respected Jesus a great deal.
Nicodemus obviously respected Jesus as well. Perhaps he was introduced to him by Joseph. He was impressed enough to seek an evening meeting with him. It is often suggested that he sought out Jesus at night in order to be secretive - to avoid the criticism of his colleagues. This has been the traditional view among Christian commentators even though the argument is an indirect one – based only on the general wording of John 12:42-43, where it is recorded that there were many chief rulers that believed on Jesus but would not admit it because of the Pharisees. Significantly, no names are mentioned, or necessarily implied, in this passage.
What we do know about Nicodemus’s relationship with Jesus after their first visit can hardly be understood to be evasive. Near the end of Jesus’ ministry the Pharisees had arranged for certain officers to bring Him to custody. Nicodemus, standing up for Jesus asked them, “Doth our law judge any man before it hear him and know what he doeth?” (see John 7:50-53). Then after the crucifixion, Nicodemus is recorded to have brought a great deal (about 75 pounds) of expensive myrrh and aloes (John 19:39) for the burial of Jesus. What makes this even more significant is that he helped Joseph of Arimathea with the actual preparation of the body - making both of them unclean according to Jewish law to participate in the Passover (see Numbers 19:11).
There is even a suggestion in the Book of Mormon that nighttime visits by Jewish leaders in Jerusalem were not uncommon events. Nephi, after disguising himself as Laban (a Jewish leader living in Jerusalem) was greeted by Zoram (Laban’s servant) who, “spake unto [Nephi] concerning the elders of the Jews, he knowing that his master, Laban, had been out by night among them” (I Nephi 4:22.). It is possible that Nicodemus likewise met with Jesus at night in order to enjoy a more relaxed and intimate conversation with Him.
Another criticism of Nicodemus is that he lacked faith - that he relied on (and was overly proud of) his rational gifts. Chrysostom (the late 4th Century Archbishop of Constantinople) argued that his use of the word “how” (in, “How can a man be born when he is old?” – John 3:4) is evidence of this.
“For the “how” is the doubting question of those who have no strong belief, but who are yet of the earth. Therefore Sarah laughed when she said, “How?” And many others having asked this question, have fallen from the faith.”
Chrysostom wrote at a time of great sectarian division within the church. Many of his detractors were individuals that asked probing and faithless questions and it is understandable why he would feel the way he did. But his tendentious views, projected on to Nicodemus, can hardly pass as a rule of human nature. Sadly, it seems that Chrysostom’s negative view of Nicodemus has been copied ever since by theologians and commentators alike who have not given the subject much more thought. The evidence alone from John’s gospel is certainly insufficient to argue against the faith of Nicodemus (see note by Black).
A more realistic view of Nicodemus is that he was a successful Jewish man that had risen to the leading council of his society and yet who genuinely sought to understand the message of Jesus. Perhaps he had developed a friendship with one of his colleagues (Joseph of Arimathea) who had told him about Jesus and then sought out a time to speak with Him directly. There is nothing in his conversation with Jesus to suggest that he was being unduly critical, disrespectful or doubtful. Very likely he just wanted to learn more about Jesus.
In fact John records that Nicodemus used two revealing words in this conversation that show a significant amount of respect. First, Nicodemus greets Jesus with the title rabbi. This is a title of great respect. (Of the three increasingly respectful forms of this title: rab, rabbi and rabban - rabbi is an intermediate form (See G.C. Morgan)). Jesus had not yet openly declared Himself to be the Son of God and Nicodemus had no reason to use the highest form. That he used the title rabbi at all is quite significant coming from one of the leading authorities of the law, who was used to being called by that title himself. Nicodemus was used to the company of the brightest and wisest Jews of his day. He met with them on a regular basis - sometimes daily. Jesus was not part of this group, and yet Nicodemus recognized His wisdom nonetheless.
The second revealing word Nicodemus used was teacher (or master). I say this was the second word advisedly because the word rabbi means teacher in Hebrew. Almost all versions of John’s gospel indicate that Nicodemus addressed Jesus with the title rabbi and then recognized that He was a teacher sent from God. This distinction exists even in the Vulgate and the Greek New Testament. It is likely, though, that Nicodemus used the same word twice: rabbi.
This is significant because a teacher (rabbi) among the Jews was significantly more important than a teacher as we understand the word today. It was more important even than how the Romans and the Greeks understood the word. A teacher, for example, who passed along information, was a didaskalos. A teacher who lived by and conveyed the teachings of another was a mathetes (a disciple). But someone who was a true teacher had the truth within themselves - receiving it directly from God.
This is a very important theme for John. He points it out on a number of occasions: that truth comes from above, is manifest in Jesus, and is perceived by the spirit of truth. John wants us to know up front that Jesus is a teacher of this higher form. It is also significant that Nicodemus seems to have recognized this too - at least in part.
That such a man would use direct questions is perfectly understandable. It is also clear from his subsequent behavior that he respected Jesus a great deal. A simple inference from a nighttime interview with the Master does not imply that Nicodemus was morally weak. The truth is that there are more human failings written about Peter in the gospels, then there are about Nicodemus - and yet we recognize Peter as the leader of Christ’s church and one of the greatest men that ever lived. Nicodemus, it seems to me, deserves to be more favorably remembered.
Literature Cited
Black, Matthew. 1967. An Aramaic Approach to the Gospels and Acts. Hendrickson Publishers. Black shows (page 160) that Nicodemus’s question is part of an Aramaic or Hebrew parallelism. In this light, Nicodemus’s question may be more properly viewed as a literary or rhetorical emphasis, than an implication of disrespect.
Chrysostom, John. Homilies on the Gospel of John 24:4. Nicene and Post-Nicene Fathers. Hendrickson Publishers, 2004 (Vol. 14, p. 85).
Morgan, G.C. The Gospel According to John. 15th ed. Fleming and Revell Co. See page 57. See also Alma 18:13 (in The Book of Mormon) where Ammon is called Rabbanah, which is possibly a related form of rab.
The Book of Mormon. 1981. Published by the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.
The Holy Bible, Authorized King James Version. 1979. Published by the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.
Tuchman, Barbara. 1984. Apostle to the Britons: Joseph of Arimathea, in Bible and Sword (Chapter 2). Ballantine Books, New York.
Nicodemus was a ruler of the Jews. This has been understood to mean that he was a member of the Sanhedrin, the ruling Jewish council of Elders. He is mentioned three times in the Gospel of John: once talking with Jesus, once defending Jesus before the Pharisees, and once helping in the burial of Jesus. In the later capacity he assisted Joseph of Arimathea, who was also a member of the Sanhedrin.
These acts of kindness to Jesus (along with possibly others) exposed both Nicodemus and Joseph of Arimathea to the ridicule of other Jewish leaders - especially during the delicate political situation at the end of Jesus’ ministry. Christian tradition accepts that Joseph of Arimathea was an adopted father of Jesus. Joseph the Carpenter was believed to have been an older man when he took Mary to wife. When he died, Jesus was still a boy. It is claimed that Joseph of Arimathea took it upon himself to care for the fatherless family (see Tuchman). He was said to have been a tin merchant and possibly a relative of the family. It is clear that he respected Jesus a great deal.
Nicodemus obviously respected Jesus as well. Perhaps he was introduced to him by Joseph. He was impressed enough to seek an evening meeting with him. It is often suggested that he sought out Jesus at night in order to be secretive - to avoid the criticism of his colleagues. This has been the traditional view among Christian commentators even though the argument is an indirect one – based only on the general wording of John 12:42-43, where it is recorded that there were many chief rulers that believed on Jesus but would not admit it because of the Pharisees. Significantly, no names are mentioned, or necessarily implied, in this passage.
What we do know about Nicodemus’s relationship with Jesus after their first visit can hardly be understood to be evasive. Near the end of Jesus’ ministry the Pharisees had arranged for certain officers to bring Him to custody. Nicodemus, standing up for Jesus asked them, “Doth our law judge any man before it hear him and know what he doeth?” (see John 7:50-53). Then after the crucifixion, Nicodemus is recorded to have brought a great deal (about 75 pounds) of expensive myrrh and aloes (John 19:39) for the burial of Jesus. What makes this even more significant is that he helped Joseph of Arimathea with the actual preparation of the body - making both of them unclean according to Jewish law to participate in the Passover (see Numbers 19:11).
There is even a suggestion in the Book of Mormon that nighttime visits by Jewish leaders in Jerusalem were not uncommon events. Nephi, after disguising himself as Laban (a Jewish leader living in Jerusalem) was greeted by Zoram (Laban’s servant) who, “spake unto [Nephi] concerning the elders of the Jews, he knowing that his master, Laban, had been out by night among them” (I Nephi 4:22.). It is possible that Nicodemus likewise met with Jesus at night in order to enjoy a more relaxed and intimate conversation with Him.
Another criticism of Nicodemus is that he lacked faith - that he relied on (and was overly proud of) his rational gifts. Chrysostom (the late 4th Century Archbishop of Constantinople) argued that his use of the word “how” (in, “How can a man be born when he is old?” – John 3:4) is evidence of this.
“For the “how” is the doubting question of those who have no strong belief, but who are yet of the earth. Therefore Sarah laughed when she said, “How?” And many others having asked this question, have fallen from the faith.”
Chrysostom wrote at a time of great sectarian division within the church. Many of his detractors were individuals that asked probing and faithless questions and it is understandable why he would feel the way he did. But his tendentious views, projected on to Nicodemus, can hardly pass as a rule of human nature. Sadly, it seems that Chrysostom’s negative view of Nicodemus has been copied ever since by theologians and commentators alike who have not given the subject much more thought. The evidence alone from John’s gospel is certainly insufficient to argue against the faith of Nicodemus (see note by Black).
A more realistic view of Nicodemus is that he was a successful Jewish man that had risen to the leading council of his society and yet who genuinely sought to understand the message of Jesus. Perhaps he had developed a friendship with one of his colleagues (Joseph of Arimathea) who had told him about Jesus and then sought out a time to speak with Him directly. There is nothing in his conversation with Jesus to suggest that he was being unduly critical, disrespectful or doubtful. Very likely he just wanted to learn more about Jesus.
In fact John records that Nicodemus used two revealing words in this conversation that show a significant amount of respect. First, Nicodemus greets Jesus with the title rabbi. This is a title of great respect. (Of the three increasingly respectful forms of this title: rab, rabbi and rabban - rabbi is an intermediate form (See G.C. Morgan)). Jesus had not yet openly declared Himself to be the Son of God and Nicodemus had no reason to use the highest form. That he used the title rabbi at all is quite significant coming from one of the leading authorities of the law, who was used to being called by that title himself. Nicodemus was used to the company of the brightest and wisest Jews of his day. He met with them on a regular basis - sometimes daily. Jesus was not part of this group, and yet Nicodemus recognized His wisdom nonetheless.
The second revealing word Nicodemus used was teacher (or master). I say this was the second word advisedly because the word rabbi means teacher in Hebrew. Almost all versions of John’s gospel indicate that Nicodemus addressed Jesus with the title rabbi and then recognized that He was a teacher sent from God. This distinction exists even in the Vulgate and the Greek New Testament. It is likely, though, that Nicodemus used the same word twice: rabbi.
This is significant because a teacher (rabbi) among the Jews was significantly more important than a teacher as we understand the word today. It was more important even than how the Romans and the Greeks understood the word. A teacher, for example, who passed along information, was a didaskalos. A teacher who lived by and conveyed the teachings of another was a mathetes (a disciple). But someone who was a true teacher had the truth within themselves - receiving it directly from God.
This is a very important theme for John. He points it out on a number of occasions: that truth comes from above, is manifest in Jesus, and is perceived by the spirit of truth. John wants us to know up front that Jesus is a teacher of this higher form. It is also significant that Nicodemus seems to have recognized this too - at least in part.
That such a man would use direct questions is perfectly understandable. It is also clear from his subsequent behavior that he respected Jesus a great deal. A simple inference from a nighttime interview with the Master does not imply that Nicodemus was morally weak. The truth is that there are more human failings written about Peter in the gospels, then there are about Nicodemus - and yet we recognize Peter as the leader of Christ’s church and one of the greatest men that ever lived. Nicodemus, it seems to me, deserves to be more favorably remembered.
Literature Cited
Black, Matthew. 1967. An Aramaic Approach to the Gospels and Acts. Hendrickson Publishers. Black shows (page 160) that Nicodemus’s question is part of an Aramaic or Hebrew parallelism. In this light, Nicodemus’s question may be more properly viewed as a literary or rhetorical emphasis, than an implication of disrespect.
Chrysostom, John. Homilies on the Gospel of John 24:4. Nicene and Post-Nicene Fathers. Hendrickson Publishers, 2004 (Vol. 14, p. 85).
Morgan, G.C. The Gospel According to John. 15th ed. Fleming and Revell Co. See page 57. See also Alma 18:13 (in The Book of Mormon) where Ammon is called Rabbanah, which is possibly a related form of rab.
The Book of Mormon. 1981. Published by the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.
The Holy Bible, Authorized King James Version. 1979. Published by the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.
Tuchman, Barbara. 1984. Apostle to the Britons: Joseph of Arimathea, in Bible and Sword (Chapter 2). Ballantine Books, New York.
Monday, March 29, 2010
Small Farms and the 2nd Amendment
The appeal of the small farm - along with organic gardening, buying locally grown produce, and otherwise lauding the agrarian ideal - is now an established part of American society, albeit a minor one. But, notwithstanding its growing appeal, it will remain a minor part for one very important (and obvious) reason: it isn’t economically rewarding.
Of course this could change if (perhaps when) the global economy fails to recover from its ongoing series of cardiac arrests. Places burdened with failed economies (at least with failed modern economies) have often been sustained by widespread agrarian livelihoods. Surprisingly, such places still exist today in: Africa, Indonesia, Cuba, etc. But they are poor - very poor.
The recent disaster in Haiti has rekindled interest in this dilemma (see Steven Stoll’s article in this month’s Harper’s Magazine: Toward a Second Haitian Revolution). Is it worthwhile pursuing an agrarian economy – even a small one - that reduces hunger and massive unemployment even if it means putting a cap on economic development?
The answer to this question is obviously, “yes”. In fact this is even true for developed countries that are used to (and demand) a higher standard of living. I don’t mean that we abandon the free market - far from it. I do mean that national security, if it is based at all on individual and family security, requires an agrarian independence of some sort.
This is fairly intuitive. Having your food supplied by somebody else always carries with it an element of risk. What is less appreciated is that the same logic that calls for an increase in the number of small farms also calls for the defense of those farms. And, however effective local police forces may be, farmers have never been comfortable relying on them completely. However unpopular it may be, the defense of small farms requires (has always required) guns.
This is not the kind of logic one gathers from big cities. Where crime is so apparent and poses a constant threat, it is only natural that there will be a call to get guns out of the hands of criminals. But let’s face it the call for an agrarian reform is all about repudiating urban logic.
Our motivations for moving to the country are manifold: they center on a simpler life, they provide a therapy of physical work, they exist in a cleaner environment, and they are more secure. These motivations are well understood by thousands - even millions - of us. But only a small fraction of these agrarian sympathizers will ever be able to actually move to a farm and make a living there. The technology that makes our food so cheap is not itself cheap. To make the purchase of combines, pumps and spray equipment requires a lot of land. Small farms just don’t make economic sense.
Billions of city-dwellers will always argue for big farms and fewer guns. For them, this is what makes security and cheap food possible. But in spite of this, there is still a very real increase in the number of small farms across America. In spite of the economic hurdle, people are returning to the land. Some of these people have jobs that allow them to work from home - from a farm house, that is. Others are wealthy enough to live where they want. Some live in small enough communities that they can commute to work and still farm when they get home. Some people just don’t mind being poor as long as they can control their own lives and provide security and freedom for their families - in a way that they choose. These people also have guns.
Sometimes the guns are used to scare off the deer and rabbits. Sometimes they are used to bring down a deer or a rabbit to eat. Sometimes guns have to be used for self-defense. The truth is that a return to the life of small farms - with all of its benefits - is a return to a life needing guns. Freedom - even national security - requires it.
Of course this could change if (perhaps when) the global economy fails to recover from its ongoing series of cardiac arrests. Places burdened with failed economies (at least with failed modern economies) have often been sustained by widespread agrarian livelihoods. Surprisingly, such places still exist today in: Africa, Indonesia, Cuba, etc. But they are poor - very poor.
The recent disaster in Haiti has rekindled interest in this dilemma (see Steven Stoll’s article in this month’s Harper’s Magazine: Toward a Second Haitian Revolution). Is it worthwhile pursuing an agrarian economy – even a small one - that reduces hunger and massive unemployment even if it means putting a cap on economic development?
The answer to this question is obviously, “yes”. In fact this is even true for developed countries that are used to (and demand) a higher standard of living. I don’t mean that we abandon the free market - far from it. I do mean that national security, if it is based at all on individual and family security, requires an agrarian independence of some sort.
This is fairly intuitive. Having your food supplied by somebody else always carries with it an element of risk. What is less appreciated is that the same logic that calls for an increase in the number of small farms also calls for the defense of those farms. And, however effective local police forces may be, farmers have never been comfortable relying on them completely. However unpopular it may be, the defense of small farms requires (has always required) guns.
This is not the kind of logic one gathers from big cities. Where crime is so apparent and poses a constant threat, it is only natural that there will be a call to get guns out of the hands of criminals. But let’s face it the call for an agrarian reform is all about repudiating urban logic.
Our motivations for moving to the country are manifold: they center on a simpler life, they provide a therapy of physical work, they exist in a cleaner environment, and they are more secure. These motivations are well understood by thousands - even millions - of us. But only a small fraction of these agrarian sympathizers will ever be able to actually move to a farm and make a living there. The technology that makes our food so cheap is not itself cheap. To make the purchase of combines, pumps and spray equipment requires a lot of land. Small farms just don’t make economic sense.
Billions of city-dwellers will always argue for big farms and fewer guns. For them, this is what makes security and cheap food possible. But in spite of this, there is still a very real increase in the number of small farms across America. In spite of the economic hurdle, people are returning to the land. Some of these people have jobs that allow them to work from home - from a farm house, that is. Others are wealthy enough to live where they want. Some live in small enough communities that they can commute to work and still farm when they get home. Some people just don’t mind being poor as long as they can control their own lives and provide security and freedom for their families - in a way that they choose. These people also have guns.
Sometimes the guns are used to scare off the deer and rabbits. Sometimes they are used to bring down a deer or a rabbit to eat. Sometimes guns have to be used for self-defense. The truth is that a return to the life of small farms - with all of its benefits - is a return to a life needing guns. Freedom - even national security - requires it.
Friday, March 12, 2010
Character and Promises
There aren’t many transcendent things that we take seriously these days. And many of the things we do think are important occupy only a small part of our lives. Most of what we do revolves around employment, entertainment and the constant juggling of immediate priorities. Sadly none of these commitments necessarily leads us to the building of character - a concern that used to preoccupy the greatest individuals of history.
It isn’t really obvious how transcendence and the building of character are related. The key to understanding how they are linked lies in the way that we keep promises. Bear with me for a few minutes and I’ll try to explain.
I first became aware of the empowering nature of promises from Stephen R. Covey, many years ago. He mentioned that one could gain self-confidence by making a promise to oneself and then keeping it. He recommended starting with small promises in order to be successful, then moving on to greater ones. I have thought about this often and, with varying degrees of success, have practiced the principle. I can speak from experience that Mr. Covey’s principle is a correct one.
I have also learned that it is a sad commentary on our society that this very important principle has been nearly forgotten. This is not just a new management gimmick (Covey never suggests that it is). It has been at the very core of our moral development for millennia. Sadly, we are more likely to regard the keeping of promises today if it leads to professional success rather than to moral excellence. When this happens we trivialize a transcendent process.
For example, it might be argued that we really do keep promises. We just don’t call them by that name. If my wife asks me to pick up a gallon of milk at the store, and I agree to do it, I have essentially made a promise. Our lives are filled with these kinds of agreements. How then can I say that we don’t make promises?
This is where a little bit of historic perspective is helpful. In the past, not all promises were the same. Simple neighborly promises - social courtesies - have certainly been part of our lives for a long time, just like they are today. If a lot was at stake, our ancestors learned to formalize promises into legally binding agreements - or contracts. We do the same today. But this was only a part of the promises our ancestors lived by.
The Old Testament and other early Near Eastern documents contain many examples of promises made to God. Many of these promises were binding. - meaning that consequences were specified if they were not kept. Oaths tended to be binding agreements spoken in a public place where God’s help was requisitioned after a petitioner kept a promise. A vow tended to be a promise made by a petitioner if God provided certain blessings.
Other promises included covenants which were formal and legally binding agreements between two parties, and could be religious or civic in nature. A pledge was another kind of formal promise between individuals. We have an analogous example in wedding rings. They are promissory in nature and much more formal than a promise to buy milk. All of these ancient promises to God were similarly binding.
The importance of these different kinds of promises is lost on most of us today. Sadly, this misunderstanding even affects the way we understand sacred texts. Written religious truths that have universal application are not understood as possible individual pledges to God. But they can be, and should be.
Take for example John 8:31-32: “If ye continue in my word, then are ye my disciples indeed; And ye shall know the truth, and the truth shall make you free.” This is an important conditional statement as it is written. But it has the potential of transforming one’s search for the truth if it were to be made a binding agreement between God and a sincere seeker of wisdom.
Another example, that is significant to my family, is Ether 12:27 (in The Book of Mormon). It was the favorite scripture of my grandmother - a Danish immigrant who in mid-life became paralyzed when a physician inadvertently cut her sciatic nerve:
“And if men come unto me I will show unto them their weakness. I give unto men weakness that they may be humble; and my grace is sufficient for all men that humble themselves before me; for if they humble themselves before me, and have faith in me, then will I make weak things become strong unto them.”
The truths expressed in these verses are certainly truths for all people. But part of the reason that they are universal truths is because they have individual meaning in a broad number of circumstances. It is possible for someone to enter into one of these promises with God in a formal and individual way. The scriptures are full of these kinds of promises just waiting for those who wish to sanctify their lives.
Those that have formally joined a religion may not have realized that their initiation also involved a promise to God. This was a lot clearer historically before infant baptism became established - when promises to God were more important than institutionalized forms of worship. It isn’t clear in the Gospels that the Last Supper (when the sacrament was first offered) had anything at all to do with baptismal covenants. But the early Christians understood that it did.
Justin Martyr (in The First Apology of Justin, Chapter XLV, Administration of the Sacraments) wrote:
“But we … in order that we may offer hearty prayers in common for ourselves and for the baptized person … salute one another with a kiss. There is then brought to the president of the brethren bread and a cup of wine mixed with water; and he taking them, gives praise and glory to the Father of the universe, through the name of the Son and of the Holy Ghost, and offers thanks at considerable length for our being counted worthy to receive these things at His hands.”
In The Book of Mormon this relationship between the sacrament and baptism is even more clearly expressed (in 3 Nephi 18:3-5) where it is recorded how Jesus established the sacrament among the Nephites:
“And when the disciples had come with bread and wine, he took of the bread and brake and blessed it; and he gave unto the disciples and commanded that they should eat… [and said] there shall one be ordained among you, and to him will I give power that he shall break bread and bless it and give it unto the people of my church, unto all those who shall believe and be baptized in my name.”
Today we live in a time of great equalizing influences. This is a great boon to many people. Unfortunately, many of these same influences have become morally equalizing as well - diluting any lingering sense of divine involvement in our lives. In fact this equalizing epidemic has sapped many of us of any desire for personal excellence - of the desire to develop personal character. The corollary is that for those having little interest in developing character, the keeping of promises is of hardly any interest. And when we stop making and keeping promises, we cut ourselves off from most of what can be transcendent in our lives.
But it doesn’t have to be this way. There is a great strength available to anyone who is willing to make and keep promises. Social promises are nice and usually easy to keep. They are a good place to start. Personal promises are more difficult – but also more rewarding. They are also much less common. This is the place where character is discovered and built.
But it is when personal promises become promises to God that the truly transforming – and transcendent - miracle occurs. This is the point of the Greek metanoia - the turning of our minds away from the world, towards God. It is the place of repentance.
True repentance is a promise kept. It is a promise kept to oneself and to God and is both the refining fire and the proof of real character. Those that remain true to these promises are the strongest individuals among us. Our fathers and mothers knew this. It was part of their understanding of character. We would be wise to follow their example.
It isn’t really obvious how transcendence and the building of character are related. The key to understanding how they are linked lies in the way that we keep promises. Bear with me for a few minutes and I’ll try to explain.
I first became aware of the empowering nature of promises from Stephen R. Covey, many years ago. He mentioned that one could gain self-confidence by making a promise to oneself and then keeping it. He recommended starting with small promises in order to be successful, then moving on to greater ones. I have thought about this often and, with varying degrees of success, have practiced the principle. I can speak from experience that Mr. Covey’s principle is a correct one.
I have also learned that it is a sad commentary on our society that this very important principle has been nearly forgotten. This is not just a new management gimmick (Covey never suggests that it is). It has been at the very core of our moral development for millennia. Sadly, we are more likely to regard the keeping of promises today if it leads to professional success rather than to moral excellence. When this happens we trivialize a transcendent process.
For example, it might be argued that we really do keep promises. We just don’t call them by that name. If my wife asks me to pick up a gallon of milk at the store, and I agree to do it, I have essentially made a promise. Our lives are filled with these kinds of agreements. How then can I say that we don’t make promises?
This is where a little bit of historic perspective is helpful. In the past, not all promises were the same. Simple neighborly promises - social courtesies - have certainly been part of our lives for a long time, just like they are today. If a lot was at stake, our ancestors learned to formalize promises into legally binding agreements - or contracts. We do the same today. But this was only a part of the promises our ancestors lived by.
The Old Testament and other early Near Eastern documents contain many examples of promises made to God. Many of these promises were binding. - meaning that consequences were specified if they were not kept. Oaths tended to be binding agreements spoken in a public place where God’s help was requisitioned after a petitioner kept a promise. A vow tended to be a promise made by a petitioner if God provided certain blessings.
Other promises included covenants which were formal and legally binding agreements between two parties, and could be religious or civic in nature. A pledge was another kind of formal promise between individuals. We have an analogous example in wedding rings. They are promissory in nature and much more formal than a promise to buy milk. All of these ancient promises to God were similarly binding.
The importance of these different kinds of promises is lost on most of us today. Sadly, this misunderstanding even affects the way we understand sacred texts. Written religious truths that have universal application are not understood as possible individual pledges to God. But they can be, and should be.
Take for example John 8:31-32: “If ye continue in my word, then are ye my disciples indeed; And ye shall know the truth, and the truth shall make you free.” This is an important conditional statement as it is written. But it has the potential of transforming one’s search for the truth if it were to be made a binding agreement between God and a sincere seeker of wisdom.
Another example, that is significant to my family, is Ether 12:27 (in The Book of Mormon). It was the favorite scripture of my grandmother - a Danish immigrant who in mid-life became paralyzed when a physician inadvertently cut her sciatic nerve:
“And if men come unto me I will show unto them their weakness. I give unto men weakness that they may be humble; and my grace is sufficient for all men that humble themselves before me; for if they humble themselves before me, and have faith in me, then will I make weak things become strong unto them.”
The truths expressed in these verses are certainly truths for all people. But part of the reason that they are universal truths is because they have individual meaning in a broad number of circumstances. It is possible for someone to enter into one of these promises with God in a formal and individual way. The scriptures are full of these kinds of promises just waiting for those who wish to sanctify their lives.
Those that have formally joined a religion may not have realized that their initiation also involved a promise to God. This was a lot clearer historically before infant baptism became established - when promises to God were more important than institutionalized forms of worship. It isn’t clear in the Gospels that the Last Supper (when the sacrament was first offered) had anything at all to do with baptismal covenants. But the early Christians understood that it did.
Justin Martyr (in The First Apology of Justin, Chapter XLV, Administration of the Sacraments) wrote:
“But we … in order that we may offer hearty prayers in common for ourselves and for the baptized person … salute one another with a kiss. There is then brought to the president of the brethren bread and a cup of wine mixed with water; and he taking them, gives praise and glory to the Father of the universe, through the name of the Son and of the Holy Ghost, and offers thanks at considerable length for our being counted worthy to receive these things at His hands.”
In The Book of Mormon this relationship between the sacrament and baptism is even more clearly expressed (in 3 Nephi 18:3-5) where it is recorded how Jesus established the sacrament among the Nephites:
“And when the disciples had come with bread and wine, he took of the bread and brake and blessed it; and he gave unto the disciples and commanded that they should eat… [and said] there shall one be ordained among you, and to him will I give power that he shall break bread and bless it and give it unto the people of my church, unto all those who shall believe and be baptized in my name.”
Today we live in a time of great equalizing influences. This is a great boon to many people. Unfortunately, many of these same influences have become morally equalizing as well - diluting any lingering sense of divine involvement in our lives. In fact this equalizing epidemic has sapped many of us of any desire for personal excellence - of the desire to develop personal character. The corollary is that for those having little interest in developing character, the keeping of promises is of hardly any interest. And when we stop making and keeping promises, we cut ourselves off from most of what can be transcendent in our lives.
But it doesn’t have to be this way. There is a great strength available to anyone who is willing to make and keep promises. Social promises are nice and usually easy to keep. They are a good place to start. Personal promises are more difficult – but also more rewarding. They are also much less common. This is the place where character is discovered and built.
But it is when personal promises become promises to God that the truly transforming – and transcendent - miracle occurs. This is the point of the Greek metanoia - the turning of our minds away from the world, towards God. It is the place of repentance.
True repentance is a promise kept. It is a promise kept to oneself and to God and is both the refining fire and the proof of real character. Those that remain true to these promises are the strongest individuals among us. Our fathers and mothers knew this. It was part of their understanding of character. We would be wise to follow their example.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
