Printed Journal Welcome to Interpreter: A Journal of Latter-day Saint Faith and Scholarship, the peer-reviewed journal of The Interpreter Foundation, a nonprofit, independent, educational organization focused on the scriptures of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. Non-print versions of our journal are available free of charge, with our goal to increase understanding of scripture. Our latest papers can be found below.

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Church History and Great Britain with the Interpreter Foundation

14-Day Land Tour escorted by Dan Peterson, Kristine Frederickson, and Peter Fagg

May 6-19, 2026

This tour will sell out fast so book your reservation now!

Go to https://interpreterfoundation.org/study-travel/britain-2026/ for more information

Conference Proceedings are now available

Abraham and His Family in Scripture, History, and Tradition

Proceedings of the Conference held May 3 & 10, 2025 at Brigham Young University

Sponsored by The Interpreter Foundation,
Scripture Central, BYU Religious Education, & FAIR

Edited by Jeffrey M. Bradshaw, John S. Thompson, Matthew L. Bowen, & David R. Seely

Published by The Interpreter Foundation and Eborn Books

For more information, go to https://interpreterfoundation.org/books/abraham-and-his-family/

Call for Proposals

“For a Wise Purpose in Him”

Perspectives on the Small Plates of Nephi
(1 Nephi – Words of Mormon)

A Conference on the Small Plates of Nephi in the Book of Mormon

May 29-30, 2026

Sponsored byThe Interpreter Foundation

Go to https://interpreterfoundation.org/conferences/2026-small-plates-of-nephi/ for more information

Another Account of Mary Whitmer’s Viewing of the Golden Plates

[Page 35]Carl T. Cox has graciously provided me with a new account of Moroni showing the Book of Mormon plates to Mary Whitmer (1778-1856), wife of Peter Whitmer Senior. Mary was the mother of five sons who were witnesses to the golden plates: David Whitmer, one of the three witnesses; and Christian Whitmer, Jacob Whitmer, John Whitmer, and Peter Whitmer Junior, four of the eight witnesses.

For a long time we have known that Mary Whitmer was also shown the plates. These accounts are familiar and derive from David Whitmer and John C. Whitmer (the son of John Whitmer). For comparison’s sake, I provide here two versions of their accounts (in each case, I have added some paragraphing). Continue reading

When Was Christ Born?

[Page 1]Abstract: Many people still believe that Jesus Christ was born on 25 December, either in 1 bc or ad 1. The December date is certainly incorrect and the year is unlikely.

Lift up your head and be of good cheer; for behold, the time is at hand, and on this night shall the sign be given, and on the morrow come I into the world, to show unto the world that I will fulfil all that which I have caused to be spoken by the mouth of my holy prophets. Behold, I come unto my own, to fulfil all things which I have made known unto the children of men from the foundation of the world, and to do the will, both of the Father and of the Son—of the Father because of me, and of the Son because of my flesh. And behold, the time is at hand, and this night shall the sign be given. (3 Nephi 1:13–14)

Continue reading

Reflections on the Mission of The Interpreter Foundation

[Page vii]Abstract: Among the covenant obligations taken upon themselves by faithful Latter-day Saints is the consecration of their talents, gifts, and abilities to the building of the Kingdom of God on the earth. Those who established and lead The Interpreter Foundation see their mission in terms of this covenant. The Foundation’s goal is to foster honest and accessible scholarship in service to the Church and Kingdom of God, scholarship that will be of use and benefit to our fellow Latter-day Saints. Continue reading

Sorting Out the Sources in Scripture

[Page 215]Review of David E. Bokovoy, Authoring the Old Testament: Genesis-Deuteronomy. Contemporary Studies in Scripture. Salt Lake City, UT: Greg Kofford Books, 2014. 272 pp. $26.95 (paperback); $70.00 (hardcover).

Abstract: To date, LDS scholars have largely ignored the important but rather complex questions about how primary sources may have been authored and combined to form the Bible as we have it today. David Bokovoy’s book, one of a projected series of volumes on the authorship of the Old Testament, is intended to rectify this deficiency, bringing the results of scholarship in Higher Criticism into greater visibility within the LDS community. Though readers may not agree in every respect with the book’s analysis and results, particularly with its characterization of the Books of Moses and Abraham as “inspired pseudepigrapha,” Bokovoy has rendered an important service by applying his considerable expertise in a sincere quest to understand how those who accept Joseph Smith as a prophet of God can derive valuable interpretive lessons from modern scholarship. Continue reading

The Case for the Documentary Hypothesis, Historical Criticism, and the Latter-day Saints

[Page 209]Review of David Bokovoy. Authoring the Old Testament: Genesis–Deuteronomy. Salt Lake City: Greg Kofford Books, 2014). Foreword by John W. Welch. 272pp. Paperback and hardcover. ((I am reviewing an advanced reading copy. Some of the material I review may be updated in the final printed form, with some of my quotations and page numbers of Bokovoy’s book possibly being updated by then.))

Abstract: Bokovoy’s new volume substantiates the claim that faithful Latter-day Saint students of Holy Scripture can apply the knowledge and methods gained through academic studies to the Bible. Continue reading

The Inevitability of Epistemology in Historiography: Theory, History, and Zombie Mormon History

[Page vii]Abstract: Fundamental changes have occurred in the historical profession over the past thirty years. The central revolutionary change is that workers in the historical profession can no longer ignore theory and philosophy of history. A built-in resistance to theory causes historians to abjure philosophical analysis of their discipline at a time when such analysis is recognized to be indispensable. If one doesn’t have an explicit theory, one will appropriate one uncritically, without the felt need to articulate and defend the theory. The dominant theory in history over the past century has been positivism, a conception of disciplinary work that ruled history and the social sciences during the twentieth century but has been stripped of rhetorical and persuasive power over the past three decades. Although positivism has been overwhelmingly rejected by theoretically informed historians, it continues to dominate among the vast majority of historians, who fear adulterating history with philosophical examination. The most common version of positivism among historians is the assertion that the only evidence from the past that is valid is testimony based on empirical observation. This essay focuses on recent comments by Dan Vogel and Christopher Smith, who deny this dominance of positivism in the historical profession, and in Mormon history in particular, by misunderstanding positivism without even consulting the large scholarly literature on the topic that rebuts their assertions. They make no attempt to engage the sophisticated literature on the transformation in historiography and philosophy of history that has made most of history written [Page 112]to standards of the 1970s obsolete and revealed it as ideologically inspired; while at the same time these historical researchers assert their own objectivity by appealing to a conventional wisdom that is now antiquated. This version of positivism is especially hostile to religious belief in general, and in particular to that embodied in the LDS tradition. Continue reading

The Time of Sin

[Page 87]Abstract: This essay provides a close theological reading of Helaman 13, the first part of the sermon of Samuel the Lamanite. Beginning from the insight that the chapter focuses intensely on time, it develops a theological case for how sin has its own temporality. Sin opens up a disastrous future, deliberately misremembers the past, and complicates the constitution of the present as the past of the future. Continue reading

Literacy and Orality in the Book of Mormon

[Page 29]Abstract: The Book of Mormon is a literate product of a literate culture. It references written texts. Nevertheless, behind the obvious literacy, there are clues to a primary orality in Nephite culture. The instances of text creation and most instances of reading texts suggest that documents were written by and for an elite class who were able to read and write. Even among the elite, reading and writing are best seen as a secondary method of communication to be called upon to archive information, to communicate with future readers (who would have been assumed to be elite and therefore able to read), and to communicate when direct oral communication was not possible (letters and the case of Korihor). As we approach the text, we may gain new insights into the art with which it was constructed by examining it as the literate result of a primarily oral culture. Continue reading

Founded Upon a Rock: Doctrinal and Temple Implications of Peter’s Surnaming

[Page 1]Abstract: The famous Petros/petra wordplay in Matthew 16:18 does not constitute Jesus’s identification of Peter as the “rock” upon which his church would be built. This wordplay does however identify him with that “rock” or “bedrock” inasmuch as Peter, a small “seer-stone,” had the potential to become like the Savior himself, “the Rock of ages.” One aspect of that “rock” is the revelation that comes through faith that Jesus is the Christ. Other aspects of that same rock are the other principles and ordinances of the gospel, including temple ordinances. The temple, a symbol of the Savior and his body, is a symbol of the eternal family—the “sure house” built upon a rock. As such, the temple is the perfect embodiment of Peter’s labor in the priesthood, against which hell will not prevail. Continue reading

A Brief History of Critical Text Work on the Book of Mormon

[Page 233]I begin this brief historical account of alternative work on the critical text of the Book of Mormon by including material that I wrote in an original, longer review of John S. Dinger’s Significant Textual Changes in the Book of Mormon (Smith-Pettit Foundation: Salt Lake City, Utah, 2013). The final, shorter review appears in BYU Studies 53:1 (2014). The Interpreter recently published Robert F. Smith’s review of Dinger. In these additional comments, I especially concentrate on work done in the 1970s by Stan Larson on the text of the Book of Mormon. In the latter part of this account, I discuss the more recent work of Shirley Heater in producing The Book of Mormon: Restored Covenant Edition. Continue reading

A Plea for Narrative Theology: Living In and By Stories

[Page vii]Abstract: The following are reflections on some of the complicated history, including the abuses, of what is commonly known as theology. The Saints do not “do theology.” Even when we are tempted, we do not reduce the contents or grounds of faith to something conforming to traditional theology. Instead, we tell stories of how and why we came to faith, which are then linked to a network of other stories found in our scriptures, and to a master narrative. We live in and by stories and not by either dogmatic or philosophically grounded systematic theology. Instead, we tend to engage in several strikingly different kinds of endeavors, especially including historical studies, which take the place of (and also clash with) what has traditionally been done under the name theology in its various varieties, confessional or otherwise.

In 1992, I published an essay in which I pointed out the word “theology” and how much of what it describes originated with Plato, Aristotle, and the Orphics. The word is not found in the Bible or other LDS scriptures. It was borrowed by Origen (185-254) and developed by Augustine (354-430);1 it was a late introduction from pagan sources. What I did not point out is that for Plato it consisted of the noble (and not base) lies told by poets to children and childlike adults. For Augustine, following [Page viii]the academic philosopher Marcus Terentius Varro (116-26 bce), theology was not seen as the words of God to human beings, but rather the crude civic cult or bizarre spoofing of such beliefs in the theater or the product of unaided human reason—that is, what philosophers say about divine things.2

Given the enormous influence of St. Augustine on the Roman Catholic Church and in different ways on the Protestant Reformation, Christians have been anxious to fashion rational proofs where God is pictured as an unembodied, simple, utterly impassive First Thing that caused, moved, and determined everything, including time and space.3 Latter-day Saints clearly challenge this theological first principle of classical theism. One can trace this rejection of the theological impulse to the founding event of the Restoration of the Gospel. When Joseph Smith went into the Sacred Grove and asked which church he should join, he was told that he should join none of them.

I was answered that I must join none of them, for they were all wrong; and the Personage who addressed me said that all their creeds were an abomination in his sight; that those professors were all corrupt; that: “they draw near to me with their lips, but their hearts are far from me, they teach for doctrines the commandments of men, having the form of godliness, but they deny the power thereof” (Joseph Smith—History 1:19).

Among other crucial differences, God is not to be understood by the Saints as a First Thing that created everything, including both time and space, out of nothing. Classical Christian theism presumes an infinite qualitative difference between the [Page ix]Absolute, Infinite, Unconditioned creator and all merely finite, existing things. For the Saints, God and other divine beings are still encountered from time to time by seers and prophets.

The scriptures are presented in narrative and dramatic form rather than as theological treatises. They tell stories instead of analyzing logical proofs. The narrative form is necessary because it relays to us those events that mark God’s peculiar dealings with his children as well as the covenants they enter into as they wander on the path to return to Heavenly Father. But these narratives are not just stories. They convey hope to us as we see God reaching out to prophets and apostles, providing forgiveness as we repent. Through these stories we see how God acts and how revelation is given to us as a community of believers.

Competing Stories

In assessing the primary difference between the faith of the Saints and that of the other versions of Christianity, Lutheran historian Martin E. Marty argues that the Latter-day Saint version of Christian faith is deeply “rooted in narrative,” whereas Protestant theologies tend to “combine the language of the Hebrew scriptures with mainly Greek philosophical concepts as filtered through academic experiences in Western Europe, most notably Germany.”4 I believe he has identified a difference that makes a difference.

Marty also argues that the existence of the faith of Latter-day Saints, which is both constituted by and consists of stories—that is, historical accounts or narratives—should remind other Christians (despite the long tradition of creeds, confessions, [Page x]catechisms, catalogs of dogma, frozen abstractions, and dogmatic and systematic theologies) that their own faith is also “born of story and stories.”5 Christian faith is generally, despite the heavy hand of classical theism, still necessarily rooted in a master narrative in which God once became human to reconcile his estranged children to himself.

An Essential Historical Grounding and Content

Even the most careful efforts to set out the core of the Christian faith in the tight formulas of creeds and confessions (thereby shutting the door to further divine special revelations) have necessarily been tied to accounts of historical events. Such singular historical detail as “under Pontius Pilate” is, for example, present in the so-called Apostles’ Creed as well as the amended version of the Nicene Creed promulgated at the First Council of Constantinople in 381.

Why is this so? Even the great ecumenical creeds and confessions would be empty and pointless without the crucial historical foundation—that is, some version of the story of God becoming a mortal and then winning a stunning victory over the death of the body (and the soul) when he rose from the dead after an unjust, vicious death. Of course, this key, essential story—the master narrative—also includes a network of stories reaching back into the past and, for Latter-day Saints, into an even deeper past prior to the peopling of the earth.

Without the crucial founding events as more than merely legends, tall tales, or wishful thinking, Christian faith in all its varieties has little or no meaning other than as a bit of nostalgia or sentimentality that offers no genuine hope. Latter-day Saints are thus not alone in both wanting and needing the founding and sustaining stories to be simply true. This is also the reason [Page xi]history is always the point of attack for secular critics of all versions of Christian faith (as well as its most attractive feature).

Elsewhere Professor Marty argues that individuals also live by stories.6 Our memory of who and what we are is our own story. In addition, our identity (or struggle for a stable identity) necessarily involves a bundle of shifting and sometimes hastily contrived and often even deceitful, conflicting, and competing stories. Put another way, our own stories involve various degrees of self-deception as we manage appearances for various, essentially selfish reasons. Much of this is described as sin in our prophetic warnings. From my perspective, our task while here on probation is, through genuine repentance and unfeigned faith (and only through the refining work of the Holy Spirit) to have our story eventually fit snugly within the larger story found in our scriptures, consonant with the terms of the covenant we have made with God.

According to Professor Marty, most Christians in much the same way also “live by story. They see God’s activity in the events, words, works, circumstances, and effects of Jesus Christ and tell the story of his death and resurrection as constitutive of the faith that forms their community.”7 Christian faith thus comes in various large, competing varieties, each of which privileges its own special version of the common founding story and supporting stories.8

Again, according to Professor Marty, standing behind Jewish communal identity is the story of “how this God chose Israel and covenanted with the nation. This was a moral God, whose judgments were to fall on Egypt and Assyria,” though divine judgments often “fell most strongly on the chosen and [Page xii]covenanted people.”9 This story and the vehicles through which it is preserved (even for many who now tend to explain away the very idea of God “as a projection, an illusion, an invention to fill social needs,”10 lifting explanations from Sigmund Freud and Karl Marx and their many disciples) still provide a foil against which individuals form and reform their Jewish and Christian identities. Something like this also holds true for both Shi’ite and Sunni Muslims who live by and for their own competing versions of their founding story, which likewise has biblical roots.

In each case, history and sacred books with historical origins and contents ground the faith of often vastly different peoples. To grasp what these peoples believe and why they do so, one must enter sympathetically into their story and stories.

Throughout Latter-day Saint history there have been some Latter-day Saints who insist we must produce a “real” theology, one that can compete with the theologies of traditional Christianity. They search the scriptures, looking for isolated passages to be used in theological speculation. One example of this approach is the attempt to portray the faith of the Saints as a materialist theology. Here key passages from the Doctrine and Covenants are used to underwrite a doctrine of materialism in spite of the narrow and elliptical nature of these passages. But there is another form this theological approach takes. It looks to contemporary scholarship for methods and frameworks within which to cast the faith of the Saints. The aim of such speculation is to provide theological common ground for an exchange of views between our faith and that of other Christian sects, but such ecumenical theology risks sacrificing what makes the Restored Gospel unique—that the heavens are again opened and God speaks to His children through prophets today.[Page xiii]

Some Personal Background

My first real encounter with what is now commonly known as theology came when I studied in great detail the writings of then-famous German-American theologian Paul Tillich (1886-1965), whose religious socialist views led to his being the first non-Jewish university professor fired by Adolf Hitler and who then shifted to the Union Theological Seminary in New York. Tillich published at least four hundred books and essays and delivered hundreds of lectures and sermons. He became a popular figure in American intellectual life. His crowning work was a massive, three-volume Systematic Theology.

Even as a university student in Germany, Tillich had begun to argue that Christianity would be false if it rested on the truth of stories about Jesus of Nazareth and not on what he called concern about the meanings that such stories have very imperfectly come to suggest. The reason, he claimed, is that God is Being-Itself and not an existing being alongside other beings. It is flatly false for Tillich if faith (understood as concern) rests to any degree on persons and events in human history.11 His views were attractive to those who were looking for reasons to brush aside all divine special revelations and hence the vast network of stories upon which Christian faith rests.

Tillich’s radically secularized understanding of Christian faith can be contrasted with that of Karl Barth (1886-1968), the even-more-famous Swiss-German scholar who managed to blunt the then-dominant continental version of liberal or cultural Protestantism and who revived a version of Protestant orthodoxy before and after World War II. Barth set out in four million words what he called Church Dogmatics. This work argued that the death and resurrection of an historical Jesus [Page xiv]was central to authentic Christian faith but suffered from being muddled together with some alien philosophy in efforts to fashion a theological system—and to engage with the very long and controversial history of Christianity. Whereas Barth saw the Bible as containing the Word of God for those moved by the Holy Spirit, Tillich saw it as merely the words of muddled humans about divine things. This distinction clearly manifests an ambiguity in the word “theology.” Does that label or its adjective “theological” identify God’s words to human beings or merely what humans have fashioned for various reasons about divine things?

Put more bluntly: do human beings merely invent the God(s) to suit their own private interests, needs, or passions, or to serve some political purpose? An affirmative response to these questions clearly makes theology a strictly earthbound and merely human invention in much the same way that religion has often been seen as a self-administered narcotic to ease for a time the utter meaninglessness and suffering in an otherwise forlorn, disconsolate world. Much of what is written about religion—including some, but not all, of what goes by the name of religious studies—dances close to the rim of this abyss, though still striving to keep an academic straight face.

Some Possible LDS Kinds of Theology

Whatever the jaded history of the term “theology,” we are for better or worse stuck with it just as we are with the word “religion.” Can we fashion our own, special understanding of theology by looking at how Protestants who were contemporaries of Joseph Smith, following in the footsteps of the Reformers, were busy hammering out and then preaching the contents of sophisticated dogmatic theologies?

Protestants tended to fashion theologies presumably derived from the Bible, understood as the thoroughly sufficient, final, infallible, inerrant Word of God. From the Bible alone it [Page xv]was and still is believed possible to set out a compendium of authoritative theology. However, the community of Saints had its roots in much different soil.

Those early Saints saw the Book of Mormon as a sign the heavens were again open and that God could and would reveal more, thereby moving us beyond sectarian controversy over the Bible. Hence they were pleased when Joseph the Seer provided them with additional histories of ancient covenant peoples. They were open to living oracles and to further evidence of a genuinely passionate divine care for human beings. This interest in additional sacred history does not seem to have been a casual matter for the first Saints. Instead the opening of the heavens through revelations to Joseph Smith constituted their new community. This also helps explain why, under very difficult circumstances, much effort was made by the first Saints to record, preserve, and publish their own history for future generations.

This literature is, of course, filled with details of follies and failures but also of God’s providential care for his covenant people. It thus contains talk about God and reflections on his dealings with human beings. In that sense, of course, even though it consists of historical texts, it could be seen as a kind of theology. It both records and reflects on divine special revelations, but it differs from traditional theologies in some crucial ways. If one insists on using the word “theology” (except perhaps in the case of the Lectures on Faith, which have a Protestant sectarian form and substance), what I am identifying is not typical of sectarian dogmatic theology; it is neither an inclusive, tight system nor cast in the categories of some philosophical culture. Instead, it is a kind of narrative theology in which the teachings have a story-like structure as well as an historical setting or are largely historical. I have no objections to efforts to mine this literature if that mining is both carefully done and sensitive to the circumstances, including [Page xvi]time and place, in which it was recorded. In my lifetime I have witnessed huge advances in writing about the Latter-day Saint past, which pleases me.

But there is also another kind of necessary LDS theology. The Saints are admonished in our scriptures to defend their faith by giving their best reasons—that is by testifying—and they have responded more or less as they felt comfortable (or inclined) in what is clearly a necessary and mandated apologetic endeavor—that is, in a defense of the faith and the Saints.12 Providing the best explanations of and reasons for the faith of the Saints is a necessary endeavor.

The Dangerous Longing for Order and Certainty

Latter-day Saints should see the dangers inherent in attempts to fashion a systematic theology grounded on a currently fashionable brand of philosophy. I see no need to tidy up and improve on the historical accounts of God’s merciful care for human beings found in our scriptures. But what of those who eschew such systems and yet for various reasons engage in the kind of sophisticated hairsplitting that goes into fashioning tight catalogues of beliefs similar to traditional Protestant and Roman Catholic dogmatic theology? Do we become and remain faithful Latter-day Saints by having books on the shelf containing dogmatic answers to all our questions?

Neither our scriptures nor certainly our history constitute tight systems in either of these ways. Instead they are mostly narratives in which we can, if we care to, begin to enter the charmed world of earlier encounters with divine things as we each struggle as best we can to grasp all the metaphors used to [Page xvii]set out genuine encounters with God. Among other things we find in both our scriptures and ritual lives covenants grounded in theophanies and hence codes or commandments we agree to obey. Our scriptures are packed with historical illustrations of the consequences of a covenant people turning away from and ceasing to remember and keep their covenants. Faithful obedience is what God seems to desire, not a demonstration of our ability to order or speculate about divine things. Our task is to remember and hence faithfully submit to the terms of the covenants we have made. Our words and deeds must match, and hence our own story and the stories found in our scriptures must, I believe, mesh together into faithful obedience expressed as faith, hope, and love.

One inadequately articulated but controlling assumption held by some of the Saints is that our scriptures should be flattened out, harmonized, and woven into a dogmatic system—despite the fact that these scriptural texts consist largely of historical accounts, sometimes written over long periods in sometimes vastly different cultures and languages by unknown authors, and redacted and preserved in various ways. Some may even feel a need to fashion more satisfactory explanations of matters mentioned in our scripture. I am satisfied with the host of narratives packed with wonderful and yet also imprecise and perplexing metaphors which are found in our scripture. This creates a kind of openness I have come to relish. I also find no pain in a huge number of questions for which I have no answer. I am more and more focused on what can be said about the one known as Jesus of Nazareth and his reconciling and redeeming endeavors, especially his victory over death in all its ugly forms.

The effort to fashion a dogmatic theology when we are confronted with narratives and hence histories of different and often little-understood places and peoples may not take the ambiguity of the past with sufficient seriousness, nor does it [Page xviii]deal with historical events in their own terms and settings. In addition the scriptures are sometimes turned into a resource book for figuring out a series of pat answers to questions neither asked nor answered in those texts—or answers sometimes quite contrary to the meaning found in the scriptures about questions we think necessary to get sorted out lest our relationship with divine things be less than it should be.

I have to admit admiring the intellectual gifts that yield both dogmatic and systematic theologies, but as a believer I don’t wish to live by displays of mere human ingenuity. Instead I put my trust in the master narrative about the victory of Jesus of Nazareth over death—a narrative that is supported by a network of amazing stories of his mercy and providential care for those who love him.

Looking at the Generative Events

The fledgling Church of Christ began with the recovery of the Book of Mormon, which is a long, detailed, tragic history of a previously unknown covenant people guided by God to somewhere in America. Its prophetic tradition is set out primarily by Mormon, for whom the book is named. He was, of course, the principal editor, redactor, and author of the Book of Mormon, but the final charge in this book, as a people came to a crashing end, is in the last words of the lonely Moroni, the son of Mormon. He made this bittersweet history available to Joseph Smith—and hence to us here and now.

Even before its publication, the Book of Mormon was controversial.13 Joseph was pictured as a mere juggler and his endeavor portrayed as fraudulent or the work of insanity [Page xix]or even demons.14 It amused and angered those impacted by Enlightenment skepticism about divine things, especially by what was considered superstition and humbug. It also challenged and annoyed sectarian preachers. It remains controversial to this day. This can be seen in both secular and sectarian versions of anti-Mormonism. It must be defended but cannot be proven true by ordinary scholarly endeavors.

The Book of Mormon, along with the eventual recovery by Joseph Smith of other ancient texts, resulted in a radical difference between the faith of Latter-day Saints and that of sectarian Christians, who objected to the audacious enlargement of the canon of sacred scripture by an unlearned farm boy. In addition to the Bible, the faith of Latter-day Saints is thus grounded in substantial additional historical texts, some of which are canonized. In addition, a host of other textual materials provide the context of divine special revelations to the one often known to his first followers as Joseph the Seer.

The Power of Stories

Under Joseph Stalin the Soviet regime sought to secularize society and erase the influence of the Russian Orthodox Church. In spite of whatever secularizing efforts took place, Stalin’s efforts to erase Russian Orthodoxy in the old Soviet Union failed. Here we have powerful evidence of the holding power of stories. An important aspect of what maintains faith in the face of secularizing forces is a rich combination of artifacts and stories, including related texts, that keep alive or make faith possible especially in the face of radical persecution.15

[Page xx]For Latter-day Saints the shared story is how Joseph Smith came to be a Seer and Translator and then Revelator and Prophet, presiding over a new community with Priesthood keys and so forth. That story helps form the grounds of the faith of the Saints, which also includes more than the story of messengers from another world, metal plates, seer stones, and a 500-page book, ending a few short years later in a lynching in Carthage, Illinois. This story and the larger network of stories puts the Saints in touch with God here and now and also in our imaginations in the deep past and the remote future. This is not theology in the traditional sense, nor is it merely traditional secular history. It is instead primarily or essentially another larger story (and stories) beginning with a council and war in heaven prior to our mortal probation. There, after this world was organized and readied, Adam (understood here as each member of humankind) made the choice to undergo a difficult and demanding probation, with an understanding that the needed sanctification and redemption would be available. (We also would need scolding, comfort, and direction.) In this story, one of those in the heavenly council ended up tending this place from a distance, and eventually he was born as a mortal being who walked and taught and ate. He was killed, then seen again after being stone cold dead for three days; he even turned up somewhere in America. And this story also includes references to remnants of Israel in other places, to other worlds, and to a future beyond the mess we currently experience here below.

In discussing whether or not there should be a Mormon theology, it is important to remember the account of the First Vision. In many ways it sets out the challenge that we face as Latter-day Saints. Our task is to take up the narratives in the scriptures and share them with others, extending the scope of scriptural stories. Doing this we give people hope and make [Page xxi]them part of an ongoing story in which they join with God in changing lives. Now, this emphasis on sharing stories runs contrary to the desire of people who call for a dogmatic Mormon theology, who view the Restored Gospel more in terms of a graduate seminar on systematic theology, or who see Mormonism as a belief system that ties together all the disparate doctrines one encounters in Latter-day scriptures.

For those who want tidy beliefs, loose ends harmonized and nailed down, such stories may seem the wrong way to go. Hence the effort to turn messy stories into theology and to invent or discover answers to all the questions these stories don’t seem to answer. Instead, I am pleased to have a store of stories from several parts of the world over long periods of time. I don’t long for a finished Mormon doctrine. I rather like the incompleteness, the unfinished character of stories such as those found in our scriptures and elsewhere. I am neither offended nor troubled by their messiness or openness.

Our founding story invites and demands that we enter the same world occupied by Joseph Smith and the Book of Mormon—a world pulsing with powers both good and evil, one in which we struggle to keep commandments and find favor in God’s sight, where sanctification is the work of the Holy Spirit in our souls. These stories are rough, unpolished, and unfinished. They are set out in the worldview, languages, and metaphors of those who experienced and crafted them. I believe these stories invite each of us to live in a world filled with wonders, with very real temptations and dangers but also with genuine hope.


  1. Louis Midgley, “Theology,” Encyclopedia of Mormonism (New York: Macmillan, 1992), 1475. 

  2. Louis Midgley, “The Utility of Faith Reconsidered,” in Revelation, Reason, and Faith, ed. Donald W. Parry, Daniel C. Peterson, and Stephen D. Ricks (Provo: Foundation for Ancient Research and Mormon Studies, 2002), 141-144. 

  3. The usual formula is “without body, parts, and passions.” 

  4. Martin E. Marty, “Foreword,” to a collection of essays edited by Donald W. Musser and David L. Paulsen, entitled Mormonism in Dialogue with Contemporary Christian Theologies (Macon, GA: Mercer University Press, 2007), p. vii. Something similar, he pointed out, is true for Roman Catholic theology, except that its European geographical location is different. 

  5. Marty, “Foreword,” p. vii. 

  6. See Martin E. Marty, “We Might Know What to Do and How to Do It: On the Usefulness of the Religious Past,” FARMS Review 21/1 (2009): 27-44. Subsequently cited as “On the Usefulness of the Religious Past.” 

  7. Marty, “On the Usefulness of the Religious Past,” 34. 

  8. For details, see Louis Midgley, “Telling the Larger ‘Church History’ Story,” Mormon Studies Review 23/1 (2011): 157-171. 

  9. Marty, “On the Usefulness of the Religious Past,” 33. 

  10. Marty, “On the Usefulness of the Religious Past,” 33. 

  11. For details, see Louis Midgley, “Religion and Ultimate Concern: An Encounter with Paul Tillich’s Theology,” Dialogue 1/2 (1966): 55-71. 

  12. See D&C 123, where the Saints are told to collect the criticisms of their faith and to prepare responses because otherwise the honest in heart may not be able to find the truth they are prepared to receive. The primary meaning of the Greek apologia is defense, as in a court of law, for a position and against false charges. 

  13. The plates came with “interpreters” (two seer stones) that were used by Joseph Smith to “see,” in some sense of the word, the English words that he dictated to various scribes. 

  14. See “19th-Century Publications about the Book of Mormon (1829-1944),” a searchable digital collection of everything published during Joseph Smith’s lifetime on the Book of Mormon, available through the Harold B. Lee Library at Brigham Young University. See http://lib.byu.edu/digital/bompublications/

  15. In 1949 it is estimated that there were less than four million Christians in China. But today, despite efforts to purge Christianity from China beginning in 1966, there are perhaps as many as a hundred million Chinese Christians. See Louis Midgley, “Christian Faith in Contemporary China,” Interpreter 2 (2012): 35-39, for a brief survey of sources. 

Fashion or Proof? A Challenge for Pacific Anthropology

[Page 205]Abstract: This article is a call to Pacific anthropologists to write the story of the origin of mankind in the Pacific a bit larger and perhaps to look scientifically for additional explanations. Is it possible that the early diffusionists may have gotten some things right, albeit for the wrong reasons?

At its heart, the human obsession with metaphysical questions such as “Who am I?” and “Where did I come from?” funds anthropology departments at universities. The hope is that the tools of modern science and technology will provide more satisfying answers to these questions than have come from the study of religion and theology. Kerry Howe’s title to one recent book about anthropology in the Pacific points to humanity’s search for meaning through origins. He named it simply The Quest for Origins,1 but in many respects, contemporary Pacific anthropology does disservice to the scientific quest and the gnawing obsession that motivates it. For example, it focuses to the seeming extinction of all else, on the question “Who came first?” The contemporary anthropologist’s vocational need for academic credibility stifles exploration and opinion that digress from the mainstream. However, increased thinking outside the box has the potential to flesh out the answers we seek.

[Page 206]I will further demonstrate this with an analogy from genealogy—not a science, perhaps, but a discipline that proximity vests with much greater certainty when it provides proof. If I were to credit only my convict great-great-great grandfather, Charles Talbot, as my ancestor in the Pacific (convicted at the Cambridge Quarter Sessions July 30, 1827; transported to Tasmania on May 2, 1828; and arriving August 25, 1828, on the second convict sailing of the “Woodford”)2 because he was first, I would miss the contribution made to my character and gene pool by the Mackintoshes, who came from Auldearn near Inverness in Scotland to Oamaru in 1879; the Norrises, who also came to Auckland in the 1880s from England; the Kerkins, who came from Cornwall to Auckland in 1906; and the Hulses, who lived on the Isle of Man in the 1850s and who intermarried with the Kenworthys and the Thompsons from Northhamptonshire in Manchester before the Thompsons came to Wellington in two installments in 1918 and 1919. In addition, my Thompson name comes down the patriarchal side of my family tree even though they were the last to come Down Under. Indeed, even if pure math tells the whole story, Charles Talbot accounts for only 1/32nd, or slightly more than 3% of my genes, but he was first, though I do not carry his name and apparently don’t look much like him.3

[Page 207]Another slice of information provides context before I set out my thesis. Contemporary anthropology posits that we do not need to look outside the Pacific for an explanation of the physiological differences that characterize her diverse peoples.4 These differences can all be explained by internal adaptations. But, as one leading anthropologist friend quipped to me, such logic implies that, “Evolution can occur on a boat ride!”5 Such humor, of course, does disservice to the notion of a funnel in genetics—meaning that if only the big, fat people survived a seminal canoe voyage, only big, fat people passed on their genes to later generations. The humor is not completely unjustified, since even that simplification ignores any skinny, small genes that the big, fat survivors carried.

To have a meaningful understanding of who the Polynesians are and where they came from, anthropologically speaking, we need to search out more of the story and open our minds to the nuances that do and must exist in the story of the colonization of the Pacific in pre-European times. Understanding a little about evolution, I find very difficult to accept that my native friends in Tarawa, Majuro, Honiara, Lae, Port Vila, Noumea, Salelologa, Vavau, Rotuma, Niue, Aitutaki, and Moorea all come from precisely the same gene stock originating fewer than 5,000 years ago because they all look so different. Given the short time involved, I believe the discredited wave and diffusion theory must tell part of the story, and I have been pleased to discover recently that leading Pacific anthropologists are open to such a possibility, though they have not written much on the subject.6 However, when [Page 208]I write of diffusion theory, I do not mean the idea that the whole world was populated from some Aryan headquarters in Europe. When I write of diffusion theory, I mean the peoples of the Pacific did not have just one gene source; the Pacific was colonized by people from diverse places and gene pools. While one source may appear to predominate when we consider only part of the evidence, that source is still not the only source nor necessarily the most interesting source.

My thesis is that there must have been waves of colonization and significant diffusion. In writing that, I realize I might have chosen less loaded labels than waves and diffusion, as these words and their baggage may close minds that would otherwise have read further, but I think it both honest and useful to admit I am revisiting some old chestnuts, at least in part. Indeed I assert that whereas no one can yet prove beyond reasonable doubt the exact detail of the waves of immigration that the self-contained evolution theorists posit,7 simple, honest armchair deduction alone makes the case for wave theory, undisputable for the truly objective.

I will begin this argument by discussing what constitutes proof—even in anthropology. Though I could discuss proof in great academic detail,8 this essay is not the place to do that, and I will try to keep it simple by presenting the different standards of proof that apply in human experience through [Page 209]analogies from legal practice and discussion of proof standards generally accepted in scholarship. Even more than in the study of history, the discoveries of anthropology can produce only hypotheses. The reason contemporary anthropology has focused on beginnings rather than diffusion has more to do with context, fashion, and contemporary academic credibility than with finding satisfying answers to the underlying gnawing questions identified above (such as “Who am I?” and “Where did I come from?”). I concede, though, that revisionism can also provide a useful foundation for academic research. Finally, I will conclude that wave and diffusion theory are just as deserving of academic respect and future consideration as the arguably simpler self-contained answers to the question of first origins. Indeed, perhaps wave and diffusion theory deserve more contemporary consideration because they have been ignored for the last fifty years.

What Is Proof?

At its simplest level, proof is the creation of a sense of certainty, but we do not often use the word proof in that simplistic way. We recognize that because of human fallibility and deceit, there are many things we cannot know for sure, so we devise probabilistic rules that enable us to work out which facts are most likely to be true.9 Perhaps the proof art is most developed in mathematics and in law. So familiar are the proof vocabularies of mathematics and law that we use them out of their home contexts. For example, we routinely identify the margin for error in public opinion polls in mathematical terms, and we [Page 210]are satisfied beyond doubt of many things in our everyday lives before we take some new direction.

There are essentially three standards of proof in law, which are most easily understood when they are translated into approximate mathematical statements. For instance, an accused person will not normally be convicted unless the court is, say, 99% satisfied of guilt—beyond reasonable doubt is the standard legal phrase. In civil cases, a lower standard of proof has been deemed sufficient. The plaintiff must only satisfy the court that the case has been made out on the balance of probabilities, which mathematically would constitute 51% proof. To say that a prima facie case has been made simply means that a judge has accepted, after a preliminary review of the facts and law, that the criminal charge outlined could sustain a guilty verdict once all the evidence has been heard. Literally, the Latin phrase prima facie means at first appearance or on the face of it or in other words that on a limited review of the evidence provided by one side of the debate, it is arguable that there is a case to be decided. If the prosecution cannot satisfy this very preliminary standard, they cannot advance the matter. Thus, it is more difficult to suggest what percentage of proof the court has accepted if it decides that a prima facie case has been made out.

The following example demonstrates the tentative nature of a prima facie case finding. If only 10% of the material likely to be aired at trial were heard during the preliminary review, there could not have been more than 10% proof—perhaps less if that evidence were not tested by cross-examination. Thus, it is fair to state that finding a prima facie case against someone is finding no proof at all—regardless of how that result may be portrayed in the popular press. The weighing of the evidence in such preliminary reviews has not really begun and awaits subsequent detailed briefing. In a historical or anthropological context, a prima facie case might be translated to mean that [Page 211]people educated in the field consider that a new suggestion appears to have validity, but they have yet to be convinced.

What standards of proof apply in other contexts? While we do not always think of proof in non-legal areas in such precise statistical ways, normally we can identify the legal paradigm that has become accepted as applicable. For example, historians can establish some facts with absolute precision as the focus of the headlines in every American newspaper on Monday, December 8, 1941. The causes of World War II, however, are much more difficult to pin down. Much ink has been spilt defining those causes, and in the end, we accept the historian’s best guess if all the available evidence has been objectively considered. Of course, if new evidence comes to light, there is room for revision of the previous conclusions. In this sense, all historical conclusions are provisional. Historical scholarship is generally satisfied if a matter is proven on the balance of probabilities—in which event we might claim that we are 51% sure.

What standard of proof applies in anthropology? Some will say that because it is a science and increasingly uses the tools of technology, we can state some findings with much more certainty than 51%, and that is true. Despite the occasional criticism of the reliability of radiocarbon dating technology,10 it is generally accepted that we can determine exactly the age of a given item or a shard of Lapita pottery. But since the contents of the said Lapita pot were likely organic and have vanished, different issues of proof attach to the deductions we make about the person(s) who made the pot, where they lived, how [Page 212]the pot got to where it was abandoned, whether it was ever traded, how the pot was broken, whether such pots were ever repaired, why the pot was abandoned, and about the artistic inspiration of its crafter and the genetic makeup of all the actors who ever handled it. Obviously it would take a very long bow to answer any of these questions and many others with a degree of certainty approaching even 30%. Perhaps the best we can do in such an anthropological case, even bolstered with archaeological evidence, is make a prima facie case.

However, regardless of whether or not we believe we have made a prima facie case or even feel optimistic that we may have established our hypothesis on the balance of probabilities, it is objectively self-evident that we do not prove anything of enduring value in anthropology beyond reasonable doubt. Though we may be able one day to prove the date of a Lapita pot’s manufacture as well as its demise, those stark facts alone do not provide any enduring satisfaction to an anthropologist.11 They are altogether too clinical. What we really want to know is what we can reasonably deduce from the clinical facts, and it is the word reasonably that identifies the standard of proof accepted in anthropological scholarship. Reasonable here is not as in beyond reasonable doubt, it is what the reasonably objective person would deduce if these facts were put before him or her. English judges used to capture this sense of what was reasonable by identifying the reasonable man as a fictional man on “the Clapham omnibus.”12 Their idea was to identify an [Page 213]objective, unbiased everyman. In coming to judicial conclusions in civil cases, they would try to work out what an everyman would decide and make it the judges’ decision. The literature debating whether there can be such an everyman is legend, but the esoteric concept endures in many forms in our 21st century society. I suggest it is what the everyperson would decide that dictates a good conclusion from clinical facts in anthropology. If objective, unbiased everypersons had all the relevant, currently known facts before them, how would they consider the Pacific was colonized? I want to suspend consideration of that question until I have identified just how hard it is to find such an unbiased every person.

Geoff Irwin demonstrates that the issue of proof is indeed a live and relevant issue in Pacific anthropology when he writes: “While science must keep an open mind about [the possibility the first settlers of New Zealand arrived before 1350 AD], there is a burden of proof on those who propose [such ideas].”13 Even though the idea spawned by oral genealogy and taught to generations of New Zealand primary school children has held that the first arrival in New Zealand was at Kupe in 950 AD, Irwin believes that contemporary anthropologists have objectively proven on the balance of probabilities that the first settlement came much later, despite the Kupe tradition. He further states that to reestablish that old idea, the traditionalists must put up some hard evidence.14

[Page 214]The relevance of the standard of proof can be made in a different way from comments that Kerry Howe has made about Thor Heyerdahl’s Pacific colonization theories. He states:

Heyerdahl offered the following broad clusters of evidence for his theory. The Kon-Tiki expedition itself proved how it was done. The winds and currents drove sailing vessels relentlessly westwards. There were his claims of similarities between eastern Polynesian words and those of South America. He also claimed that “pure” eastern Polynesian blood groups were similar to those of North and South America. He amassed a whole range of archaeological evidence supposedly showing cultural links with both North and South America—the most notable being the Easter Island stonework. He also argued that certain eastern Polynesian plants, including the sweet potato, originated in South America.

While the public adored Heyerdahl, the scholarly community largely ignored him. Few academics have bothered to spend their time trying to refute his mass of claims and his voluminous evidence. For those aware of the issues, he was so wrong as to be not worth taking too seriously.15

The outstanding Heyerdahl evidence is summarized below.16 It is not fair to say that Heyerdahl’s mass of evidence was so wrong as to be “not worth taking too seriously,”17 nor that a reasonable, scholarly posture suggests that there would be no value in reviewing Heyerdahl’s evidence more seriously—[Page 215]especially since other scholars are now demonstrating that unquestionable links exist between Polynesia and South America.18 If the rules of evidence used in legal practice were applied objectively, it is also difficult to claim academic anthropology has the moral high ground or that Heyerdahl has, as Geoff Irwin might say, the onus of proof. That is more especially true when Howe clearly admits there has been no effort to address the bulk of the material that Heyerdahl produced as evidence.

Context

Kerry Howe, however, has brilliantly explained how the anthropological theories of the past reflect both the preoccupations and even the religious beliefs of those who proposed them. For example, he points out that the question “Where did the Polynesians come from?” betrays an ancient conceit in the questioner who finds it hard to believe that such a feat of discovery might have been achieved by someone other than the questioner.19 There are other conceits in the question and the discussion that traditionally surrounded it, which Kerry has explained better than I can. More obvious is the predetermination evident in the anthropological answers offered by 19th century Christian missionaries whose Bible told [Page 216]them there were lost tribes of Israel somewhere.20 But as Kerry says, it is not quite so easy to see where our own blind spots are.21 We are simply too immersed in them to see. Because of my own immersion, I am sure I do not see them all. Nevertheless, I can identify some perhaps because, in a measure, I am an anthropological outsider.

Universities are notoriously political places. To make a career in academic anthropology, one must not only be brilliant and passionate about anthropology, but one must also pay the piper.22 Whereas it is self-evident that universities are houses of new learning, it is proverbial that one cannot afford to be completely original, either. The standard modern academic entry token, the PhD dissertation, is a case in point. While it must be original enough to pass examination, it must also proceed from established reference points and be full of precedential citations of previous authority to have academic credibility. Precedent and originality make strange counterpoint. Surely true originality eschews precedent; the only legitimate reason for a supervisor or examiner to insist on precedent in a thesis is to demonstrate that the candidate adequately understands [Page 217]the relevant field of knowledge before embarking on a novelty, but that is not the way it works in practice. Doctoral candidate examiners whose own work is discredited by such originality are legendary for issuing fail or rewrite reports, hence the number of doctorates granted in Western universities does not necessarily represent a burgeoning in the body of human knowledge, but they should.

The study of anthropology really began only in the 19th century, so it was natural that it began its life as a science.23 But in the early years, it was actually an armchair science.24 When professors finally began to use the scientific method and look for hard evidence, they were retrospectively embarrassed by the naiveté of their predecessors.25 Rather than sift past work for [Page 218]its enduring contribution to scientific advancement, the newly enlightened anthropologists simply started again and threw away the old paradigms completely. Therefore, when Kerry Howe concludes his book about the academic quest for the origins of Pacific peoples, he wonders if “any babies have been thrown out in the diffusionist bathwater?”26 He also suggests in the same paragraph that future anthropologists may well identify contemporary obsession with aboriginal nationalism in the Pacific as a blinker that has obscured objective treatment of the available evidence in the early part of the 21st century. It is certainly academically difficult at present to say anything that suggests the currently dominant strain of aboriginals were not the first here or there because that would dilute their moral claim for various types of compensable wrong.

Now all this is not to say one cannot make an academic career as an anthropological revisionist.27 To prove they are objective, some universities make a point of appointing token professors who swim against mainstream currents. But like personnel managers in modern corporations, their career [Page 219]paths are normally tangential to the real world at the university concerned. Revisionism may sell a few books to the ladies from Vaucluse, Toorak, and Remuera (and if those ladies are really wealthy, it may endow the occasional chair), but as tokenism, it does not advance the world’s general scientific understanding and does not shift the status quo of contemporary academic opinion. That happens only when a few of the most respected mainstreamers take a leap of faith and credit a previously disreputable theory.

Now the sequitur—were the armchair anthropologists of the past completely wrong, or does something remain in their theorizing about diffusion that begs for scientific treatment? Though I have traveled the Pacific as extensively as anyone in the last twenty years, I am not an anthropological fieldworker experienced with brush and trowel. To that extent I am doubtless as naive as my armchair predecessors. But still, it is remarkable what one can learn if one takes the time to simply ponder the old logic alongside the most recently published evidence.

Waves and Diffusion

Heyerdahl was the most famous diffusion theorist, but he was not the first. Until the 1960s, contemporary anthropology held that the genesis of the Polynesians discovered by Cook and other European explorers lay outside the Pacific, probably somewhere to the west. J.R. Forster, who was Joseph Banks’s replacement on Cook’s second voyage, was the first to posit that Polynesia had inhabitants before those they found in the late 18th century.28 However, he did not believe they adapted or evolved in situ. Rather, on the basis of primitive comparative physiological and linguistic analyses, he believed they originated in some part of Asia rather than in either America or Australia. [Page 220]Christian missionaries thereafter posited that the Polynesians had Semitic antecedents,29 and this idea was superseded by post-Darwin scholarship that groped for less religious but conceptually similar Aryan or Caucasian origins.30 Margaret Mead’s Coming of Age in Samoa, though flawed, symbolized the next shift in the anthropological academic mainstream.31 Her belief that differences in these peoples could be explained environmentally brought evolutionary theory fully into the Pacific anthropological equation and dispensed with the need for any waves of inbound migration. Kerry Howe summarizes the “broad orthodoxy”32 pervasive until the mid-twentieth century as holding that the initial settlement of the western fringes of Oceania was achieved by dark-skinned, Southeast Asian people, but they were later recolonized by lighter skinned people from the same area who proceeded much farther into the area now commonly known as Polynesia. These ideas “reflect a range of Western cultural assumptions, fears and aspirations.”33

Current thinking holds there was no “Polynesian migration into the Pacific because there were no Polynesians when humans began moving into Oceania. There was, instead, an initial, generalized Austronesian culture that emerged from the Southeast Asian region… [which] experienced a wide range of adaptations… over thousands of years.”34 The idea that the remotest parts of Polynesia could have been populated only by chance drift voyages, most controversially promoted by [Page 221]Andrew Sharp35 against Sir Peter Buck’s more popular idea that the Polynesians were the “Vikings of the Sunrise,”36 has been discredited37 in particular by Geoff Irwin and Ben Finney, who demonstrated more convincingly (and popularly) that the colonization was more likely the result of a “deliberate strategy of exploration and settlement.”38

Philip Houghton’s quasi-medical contribution to the environmental argument39 does not serve that cause particularly well. His suggestion that Polynesians evolved large muscular frames to survive cold voyages of exploration is difficult to accept, implying as it does that the evolution involved occurred within a period of a thousand years at most.40 Indeed, so implausible does that argument seem that [Page 222]one might indelicately suggest that the argument would be more convincing if Houghton sided with Heyerdahl and found the ancestors of Polynesian sailors in the high, cold Andes whence Heyerdahl might have been happy to have some of them come.41 In fact, Houghton even seems to discredit much of the linguistic evidence generally taken to support the environmental thesis when he states:

An immediate example of the fragility of the link between language and people, is given by Oliver, recording in a Bougainville community the almost complete replacement within one generation of one language by another. (Here it happens to record the demise of an Austronesian language.)42

Houghton thus seems guilty of the danger Kerry Howe exposes with his implicit charge that good anthropologists must be careful not to let the result they want color their [Page 223]objective interpretation of the evidence they find and analyze. From Houghton it seems fair to conclude that the physiological changes he labors hard to explain would be more easily dealt with under some kind of diffusion hypothesis.

Houghton is not the only recent anthropologist to say things that ought to breathe life into a reconsideration of a diffusion element in Pacific colonization. Consider the following statements from several other writers featured in Kerry Howe’s magnificent text Vaka Moana, Voyages of the Ancestors: The Discovery and Settlement of the Pacific.43 Geoffrey Irwin states:

It is now generally accepted that no one group of people travelled all the way from Asia to their new Pacific Island home. As they moved they changed, interacted with others, and eventually produced the diverse peoples, biological types, cultures and the many hundreds of languages known throughout the wider Pacific region today. However, there is less agreement about whether Pacific boat technology and navigational methods developed within the region or were imported from outside.44

In the first sentence, Irwin may be said to have restated the internal evolutionary theory albeit using diffusion language. Nevertheless, his concession that the maritime technology alone might have been imported seems odd in that context. Though his comments are guarded, P. J. Matthews, writing of “Plant Trails in Oceania,” says:

Long before the arrival of Europeans, the sweet potato was carried from the Pacific coast of South America to eastern Polynesia. This transfer is believed to have depended on the voyaging abilities of early Polynesians. [Page 224]Regardless of how the plant was carried, the fact that the Polynesian name kumara is based on an American name for the plant is proof that Polynesian and American people had face-to-face contact. The full extent of contact and travel between the two regions remains unknown.45

Similarly, David Penny and Anna Meyer effectively admit that diffusion theory will need to be reexamined in the future when they write:

Most of the evidence in this area comes from the maternally inherited mitochondrial DNA, which shows a close match between Polynesians and the indigenous people of Taiwan, the Formosans. … Interestingly, Polynesian Y chromosomes DNA does not show such a definite answer. The reasons for this are not entirely clear yet, but one idea is that there could have been later waves of migration, with differences in the way in which males and females moved about.46

It may be that Kerry Howe’s observations about context are again in evidence here. The only reason Jose Miguel Ramirez-Aliaga has found pre-Hispanic chicken bones in Southern Chile47 is that he lives in Latin America and was looking for some such evidence of American contact with the Pacific. Penny and Meyer and everyone else respond to the contextual stimuli which hold their interest.

[Page 225]Regardless of Heyerdahl’s motivation, he is generally dismissed academically as little more than a curiosity, whereas his famous Kon-Tiki expedition in 1947 may be seen to have laid the conceptual foundation for later proof that Pacific voyaging and settlements were not accidental.48 He has no real scientific credibility because he is discounted as a European racist resurrecting the old missionary ideas of Aryan origins for Polynesian people. In particular, Heyerdahl’s insistence that there was an early colonization by civilized, fair-skinned people with advanced technology who were killed off later by brown-skinned invaders is dismissed with demonstrations of anachronism and selective science.49 And there is little doubt that in his later work, Heyerdahl was writing for an audience, but so were some of those who strove mightily to discredit him.

Sitting in my armchair, I admit that I, too, have been entranced by Heyerdahl’s adventures, but after recently rereading American Indians in the Pacific, The Theory behind the Kon-Tiki Expedition,50 I doubt that academia has been completely fair to Heyerdahl. Certainly his ego did not require allies, but when one catalogs his evidence for some American connections with the Pacific and Polynesia in particular, a lot remains that has not been answered. Suggs pointed out in the early 1960s that Heyerdahl’s treatment of the Easter Island colonization was highly anachronistic.51 In a very colorful paragraph, he says:

[Page 226]Heyerdahl’s Peruvians must have availed themselves of that classical device of science fiction, the time machine, for they showed up off Easter Island in A.D. 380, led by a post-A.D. 750 Incan god-hero, with an A.D. 750 Tiahuanco material culture featuring A.D. 1500 Incan walls, and not one thing characteristic of the Tiahuanaco period in Peru and Bolivia. This is equivalent to saying that America was discovered in the last days of the Roman Empire by King Henry the Eighth, who brought the Ford Falcon to the benighted aborigines.

Though some of Heyerdahl’s evidence has been discredited, and very little of it has the durability of the subsequent Lapita discoveries, there is still much in his catalog that raises legitimate questions about balanced assessment by later critics. Consider for example:

  • Why Polynesians look more like Madagascans and Northwest American Indians than they do Micronesians and Melanesians. Appearance similarities include stature, nose structure, skin color, beards, and hair color and type.52
  • Why Polynesians don’t use shell money, yet both Micronesians and Melanesians do.53
  • Why there is no betel nut in Polynesia.54
  • The spiral design of the Maori and their challenging custom of the extended tongue, which has connections with the Northwest American native but not other peoples of the Pacific.55
  • [Page 227]Polynesians do not use kites in fishing, which is common elsewhere in the Pacific.56
  • Hair topknots and particularly reddened hair topknots appear in Polynesia and America but not elsewhere in the Pacific.57
  • Cutting off a finger as a sign of mourning is a commonality between American and Polynesian natives, but it is not found elsewhere in the Pacific.58
  • The cannibalistic practices of Maori and Northwest Indians are similar.59
  • Maori and Northwest Indian traditions have many similarities including culture heroes,60 sun-binding myths,61 departed spirit voyages and direction,62 and ancestral voyages from frozen climes.63 They also use many virtually identical place names.64
  • The sweet potato, which is very popular in Polynesia, came from America and has the same name in both places.65 The same is true of the American hibiscus flower.66
  • The cotton that is found in Polynesia has American, not Asian antecedents.67
  • The American bottle gourd, or calabash, is found in Hawaii but not elsewhere in the Pacific.68
  • [Page 228]There are other Andean plants in Hawaii which predate European discovery and are not found elsewhere in the Pacific.69
  • Yam beans from South America appeared in Tonga and Fiji before European discovery.70
  • If Polynesian origins are all Asian, why did the Polynesians not use rice in pre-European times? (Note that Heyerdahl speculates as to the reason why maize, too, does not exist in the Pacific.)71
  • Cane and reed rafts appear in both America and Polynesia (but not elsewhere in the Pacific).72
  • Both American and Polynesian traditions feature large, navigable freight rafts maneuvered dexterously with centerboards.73 While double-hulled canoes appear elsewhere in the Pacific, the rafts do not.
  • The Maori word totara is the same word used by Peruvians to describe the most buoyant wood for watercraft.74
  • Both the Polynesian and American calendars focus on the Pleiades.75
  • The same flutes and gourd whistles are used in Polynesia as in Peru.76
  • Maori-Polynesian fighting methods, like the Northwest American Indian peoples feature slings and striking weapons rather than the bow and arrow more familiar in Asia and elsewhere in the Pacific.77
  • [Page 229]The fishhook types used by the Northwest Americans are more similar to those used in Polynesia than are the fishhooks used elsewhere in the Pacific, which have more Asian affinities.78

Most scientists do not give Heyerdahl a fair hearing. Surely some material here bears further scientific investigation. Suggs’s treatment of these findings is a good example of the customary unfairness attributed to Heyerdahl’s research. While his denigration of Heyerdahl on grounds of anachronism cited above is a good read, it is much more disdainful than it needs to be and endorses the thought that Suggs was writing to an agenda. When that excessive mockery is coupled with the further fact that Suggs disdainfully denies the significance Heyerdahl placed upon the South American origins of the sweet potato or kumara (which has been vindicated by later scholarship), we have cause to set Suggs’s views to one side as lacking desirable scholarly objectivity.

Nevertheless, it is not necessary to give Heyerdahl all the credit he has soaked up because of his fame and his notoriety. Many others have been prepared to concede more nuanced Pacific history and colonization than the current mainstream. Although Robert Heine-Geldern castigates Heyerdahl for all the culture he traces in Polynesia from America and particularly Peru79 (Heine-Geldern says a stronger case can be made for those same cultural traits as having come from Asia80), he does credit Heyerdahl with resurrecting the Roland Dixon-WJ Thompson theory that the kumara was fetched to Polynesia from America by two-way journeys originating in Polynesia.81 This same point has been given new life by Jose [Page 230]Ramirez’s recent discovery of pre-Hispanic chicken bones in Southern Chile, which he says evidence some Hawaiian-Chumash connection.82 While Robert Langdon was generally seen as a lovable nutter by university anthropologists, most will concede there may indeed be some Spanish DNA in parts of the Pacific for the reasons he states,83 but they could not concede all that Langdon claimed as consequences of that concession.84

However, when one weighs together the work of all the Pacific anthropologists I have cited, it is remarkable how few have addressed the work of John Sorenson. I believe future generations will come to regard Professor Sorenson as one of the giants of anthropological scholarship, on whose shoulders others should have stood much sooner. Whereas he has made no claim to have been a Pacific anthropologist,85 it is not just his magnum opus referred to above that should have been considered more seriously by the mainstream. He wrote his master’s thesis on this very subject in 195286 after serving an LDS Church mission in Rarotonga, where he participated in amateur radio contact with Thor Heyerdahl’s Kon-Tiki raft en route in 1947.87 His monumental two-volume bibliography titled Pre-Columbian Contact with America across the Oceans: An Annotated Bibliography, first published in 1990 with Martin L. Raish88 (updated and expanded in 1996),89 contains abstracts [Page 231]of more than 5,000 books and articles both for and against claimed or actual transoceanic voyaging and constitutes virtually the total relevant literature on the question up to the time of publication. Many of Professor Sorenson’s abstracts in that work involve Polynesia, and although he turned 89 years old in 2013, he has a new text on diffusion ready for publication90 to add to additional work published on this subject matter in 2004,91 2006,92 and 2009.93

Conclusion

The bottom line is that it is unscientific for contemporary anthropologists to perpetuate an understanding of Pacific anthropology that misleads their students and the public (especially the Pacific Island public) into believing that their story is a completely self-contained one of evolutionary Asian origins. On the balance of probabilities, it must be accepted that the story is much more nuanced than that. It is not only possible but likely that both drift and planned voyages from Latin and North America are a part of that story. It is also likely that Robert Langdon’s idea that sailors from some lost European caravels may have contributed some of their DNA to the Pacific gene pool as well. Although species including Homo sapiens can adapt quickly to their environments, it is difficult to account for all the physiological differences in the Pacific by simple reference to local environments. People simply have not inhabited the area long enough. Certainly there are inter-island [Page 232]environmental differences, but the Houghton suggestion that the Polynesian part of the Pacific Ocean is an essentially cold place, which has biologically required the evolution of some of the largest human bodies in the world’s history, does not stack up too convincingly.

This article is thus a call to Pacific anthropologists to write the story a bit larger and perhaps to look scientifically for other possible explanations for the origin of mankind in the region. Would it be so bad if among all they said, they acknowledged that the early diffusionists may have gotten some things right albeit for the wrong reasons?


  1. K. R. Howe, The Quest for Origins (Penguin Books: Auckland, 2003). 

  2. Meryl Yost, “Tasmanian Convict Ships List – ‘W’ Ships,” accessed November 29, 2007, http://www.rootsweb.com/~austashs/convicts/conships_w.htm. 

  3. An extract from one record of his penal servitude in Tasmania gives the following precise physical description of Charles Talbot: “5 foot 5½ inches tall, dark fresh complexion, small oval head, large bushy whiskers, square upward shaped visage, medium forehead flat in front, dark black eyebrows, gray eyes, long straight downward pointing nose, large mouth, long indent in chin at point with a slightly purple scar on left eyebrow, a mark of the king’s evil under each side of the jaw, and large slightly ruptured scar on the back of the right hand” (Mitchell Library, Sydney, Talbot, Charles, Cambridge Quarter Sessions 30 July 1827 14 years M.L.Ref. A10593 p.396 Ship Woodford (2) Arrived 25 August 1828 Con 18/21). 

  4. For example, see Howe, Origins, 51–52, 61–62. 

  5. Ben Finney, private conversation, Honolulu, August 23, 2007. 

  6. Geoff Irwin, personal discussion, March 22, 2007; Kerry Howe, personal discussion, Massey University at Albany, Auckland, May 3, 2007; Ben Finney, personal discussion, Honolulu, August 23, 2007; and Patrick Kirch, personal discussion, Berkeley, California, February 7, 2008. Against the current, John Sorenson has written extensively on this subject with his magnum opus. John Sorenson and Martin L. Raish, Pre-Columbian Contact with America across the Oceans: An Annotated Bibliography, 2 vols., 2nd ed. (Provo, Utah: Research Press, 1996). This work documents more than five thousand discrete evidences of pre-Columbian contact between the American continent and the rest of the world, including Polynesia. 

  7. Theories of Polynesian origins are said to form a continuum—from Terrell’s notion of the Entangled Bank to Diamond’s Express Train. Jonathan S. Friedlaender, et al. “The Genetic Structure of Pacific Islanders,”PLoS Genetics 4/1 (2008): 173, 186. 

  8. My PhD thesis focuses on one small aspect of the law of evidence. Anthony Keith Thompson, Religious Confession Privilege at Common Law: A Historical Analysis, Murdoch University, West Australia, 2007. 

  9. Alex Stein suggests that traditional evidence law rules are founded upon probabilistic theory, which allows judges to apportion risk as they deem fit and should be set aside in favor of more mathematical principles, which can yield more trustworthy results. Alex Stein, Foundations of Evidence Law (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2005). 

  10. Atholl Anderson has suggested that many of the earliest dates yielded by radiocarbon dating in the Pacific must be culled in the interests of intellectual rigor, and his findings have been confirmed by the reworking of samples measured at the University of Waikato Radiocarbon Dating Laboratory between 1975 and 1995. Howe, Origins, 176. Others have pointed out that Anderson’s methodology is itself flawed since his convenient exclusion of the earliest samples yields the later dates of human habitation for which he has always argued. 

  11. Howe observes that though we “rely on the ‘hard facts’ of modern science such as radiocarbon dating, genetics, linguistics… [and] archaeology… [y]et how we interpret Pacific prehistory, what aspects of it we emphasise, still reveals a range of cultural values and pre-occupations.” See Howe, Origins, 24. 

  12. The quoted phrase was first coined by L. J. Greer in Hall v. Brooklands Auto-Racing Club (1933) 1 KB 205. However, perhaps the earliest formulation of the notion of the reasonable man came from B. Alderson in Blythe v. Birmingham Waterworks Co. (1856) 11 Exch., 781, 784. He said: “Negligence is the omission to do something which a reasonable man, guided upon those considerations which ordinarily regulate the conduct of human affairs, would do, or doing something which a prudent and reasonable man would not do.” Lord MacMillan elaborated that standard in Glasgow Corporation v. Muir [1943] A. C. 448, 457 when he said: “The standard of foresight of the reasonable man… eliminates the personal equations and is independent of the idiosyncracies of the particular person whose conduct is in question.” 

  13. Geoff Irwin, “Voyaging and Settlement,” in Vaka Moana, Voyages of the Ancestors: The Discovery and Settlement of the Pacific, ed. K. R. Howe (Albany, Auckland: David Bateman, 2006), 89. 

  14. Irwin, “Voyaging and Settlement,” 89. Note also that Michael King effectively makes the same argument. Michael King, History of New Zealand (Albany, Auckland: Penguin, 2003), 38–47. 

  15. Howe, Origins, 127–128. 

  16. Howe, Origins, 17–18. 

  17. Note, however, that this is not Kerry Howe’s personal position. He simply reports this has been the verdict of the majority of the academic community. 

  18. For example, see Geoff Irwin, “Voyaging and Settlement,” 83; P.J. Matthews, “Plant Trails in Oceania” in Vaka Moana, 96; and Ben Finney, “Ocean Sailing Canoes” in Vaka Moana, 135. Again, and as mentioned above at footnote 6, John Sorenson at BYU has devoted almost his entire life to the diffusion thesis. While he has not specialized in diffusion to and from Polynesia, most recently with Carl L. Johannessen, a geographer from the University of Oregon, he has demonstrated that a hundred species of plants, many of them cultivars, were present in both the Old and New Worlds before Columbus’s day, and a considerable number of these were shared between the Americas and Polynesia. John L. Sorenson and Carl L. Johannessen, World Trade and Biological Exchanges before 1492 (New York: iUniverse, 2009). A new, revised edition of this work was published in 2013. The new edition is available from Amazon.com. 

  19. Howe, Origins, 8. 

  20. Howe, Origins, 36–41. 

  21. Howe, Origins, 24, 184. 

  22. Note the transparency in Peter Capelotti’s book Sea Drift, Rafting Adventures in the Wake of Kon-Tiki. He says: “Heyerdahl was perhaps inevitably disappointed that his experiment in constructing a primitive raft and transiting across an ocean on it did not inspire more scholarly interest. But he should not have been. The unprecedented attention and acclaim earned by the Kon-Tiki expedition were almost guaranteed to make the experiment suspect to scholars. Until the very recent advent of public and cable television documentaries, the general public hardly ever witnessed the bitter infighting of academics who either conducted controversial experiments or, likely as not, sat back and criticized those who did. For the critics especially, Heyerdahl was an interloper: a zoologist bearing an anthropological hypothesis into the highly stratified and segregated world of the academy. He seemed to cross too many conflicting lines of evidence from widely separated prehistoric events taken place across millennia. (Peter Capelotti, Sea Drift, Rafting Adventures in the Wake of Kon-Tiki (London: Rutgers University Press, 2001, xvii). 

  23. Until the 18th century (perhaps beginning with Galileo), the world’s thinkers were called philosophers—even those who really developed the tools of empiricism. G.C. Gillispie, The Edge of Objectivity (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1960), 7. Gillispie goes on to say: “In its early days, science was distinct from technology, springing rather from thought and philosophy than from craftsmanship. Nowadays, however, and indeed for the last century and more, science has merged more intimately with technology, so arming it with power. … The answer [to why Europe created science] lies in Greece. Ultimately science derives from the legacy of Greek philosophy. … Of all the triumphs of the speculative genius of Greece, the most unexpected, the most truly novel, was precisely its rational concept of the cosmos as an orderly whole working by laws discoverable in thought. The Greek transition from myth to knowledge was the origin of science as of philosophy. Indeed, knowledge of nature formed part of philosophy until they parted company in the scientific revolution of the seventeenth century” (Gillispie, Objectivity, 8-9). 

  24. For example, though Edward Tylor, who Kerry Howe calls “a founder of anthropology,” (Howe, Origins, 43) undertook a field trip to Mexico, he and John George Frazier “derived most of the material for their comparative studies through extensive readings of Classical materials (literature and history of Greece and Rome), the work of the early European folklorists, and reports from missionaries, travelers, and contemporaneous ethnologists.” Wikipedia, “Anthropology,” last modified January 13, 2014, accessed December 15, 2007, http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Anthropology

  25. “Neither Tylor nor Frazer, however, were particularly interested in fieldwork nor were they interested in examining how the cultural elements and institutions fit together. Towards the turn of the century, a number of anthropologists became dissatisfied with this categorization of cultural elements; historical reconstructions also came to seem increasingly speculative. Under the influence of several younger scholars, a new approach came to predominate among British anthropologists, an approach concerned with analyzing how societies held together in the present (synchronic analysis rather than diachronic or historical analysis) and emphasizing long-term (one to several years) immersion fieldwork. Cambridge University financed a multidisciplinary expedition to the Torres Strait Islands in 1898, organized by Alfred Court Haddon and including a physician-anthropologist, W. H. R. Rivers, as well as a linguist, a botanist, and other specialists. The findings of the expedition set new standards for ethnographic description. A decade and a half later, Polish-born anthropology student Bronisław Malinowski (1884–1942) advocated an approach to fieldwork that became standard in the field: getting ‘the native’s point of view’ through participant observation. Theoretically, he advocated a functionalist interpretation, which examined how social institutions functioned to meet individual needs” (Wikepedia, “Anthropology”). 

  26. Howe, Origins, 184. 

  27. Atholl Anderson at the Australian National University is the anthropologist who currently seems to demonstrate this point best. Howe, Origins, 176 and Finney, “Ocean Sailing Canoes,” 132. 

  28. Howe, Origins, 29–31. 

  29. Howe, Origins, 36–41. 

  30. Howe, Origins, 41–51. 

  31. Margaret Mead, Coming of Age in Samoa. The Making and Unmaking of an Anthropological Myth (Canberra, Australia: National University Press, 1983) as cited in Howe, Origins, 51. 

  32. Howe, Origins, 59. 

  33. Howe, Origins, 61. 

  34. Howe, Origins, 61. 

  35. Andrew Sharp, Ancient Voyagers in the Pacific (Auckland: Longman Paul, 1963). 

  36. Peter H. Buck, Vikings of the Sunrise (Christchurch: Whitcombe and Tombs, 1975). 

  37. There is more about Sharp’s work that should have been discredited. For example, he wrote: “On the issue of whether the Polynesians were distributed from Western Polynesia or Eastern Polynesia, in the first place, the records of accidental voyages can throw no light, since some occurred in both directions. The answer is established beyond reasonable doubt by the linguistic research of Dr SH Elbert, who has shown that Western Polynesia was the ancestral speech area of the Eastern Polynesian tongues, and that the Hawaiian and Maori are derived from one or other of the latter” (Sharp, Vikings, 72–73). But when one reads the article referred to (Samuel H. Elbert, “Internal Relationships of Polynesian Languages and Dialects,” Southwestern Journal of Anthropology 9: 147–173), one finds that Elbert assumed the fashionable belief in Polynesian origins in “the Asiatic homeland” was correct (158, 163) and sought to explain all his research against that assumptive background without considering other possibilities. However, Elbert did conclude his article with the rather stark factual observation: Percentages of vocabulary agreement are so low that at least three Polynesian languages must be said to exist: West Polynesian, Kapingamarangi, and East Polynesian (Elbert, “Dialects,” 170). Sharp ignored this honesty completely, and the omission suggests that Sharp, as many others, had an agenda. 

  38. Elbert, “Dialects,” 62. 

  39. Phillip Houghton, People of the Great Ocean: Aspects of Human Biology of the Early Pacific (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1996). 

  40. While Houghton does not say a thousand years, all the evidence he relies on for Polynesian inhabitation of Remote Oceania anticipates dates little earlier than 300 AD, and since the Maori were probably separate and established with large, muscular frames by 1000 years later, this intrepid voyaging, which most distinguishes Polynesians from other Pacific Islanders in Houghton’s hypothesis, and the cold of those voyages, which is his evolution mechanism, must have happened within 1000 years if he is correct. Suggs suggested in 1960 that all the differences in Polynesian features could be explained by microevolution or short-term evolution (Robert C. Suggs, The Island Civilizations of Polynesia (New York: Mentor Books, 1960), 35–37, 88, 233), but he does not explain how this microevolution could be so time-compressed, save to say that all the right conditions existed for it to happen in Polynesia, namely: “isolation by natural geographical or social boundaries and environmental differences” (Suggs, Island, 35). 

  41. Heyerdahl theorizes that the Polynesian differences from the Melanesians and the Micronesians elsewhere in the Pacific can be accounted for by two different waves of migration. The first of tall, fair-skinned Aryan people, who came from the mountains and coastal areas of what is now Latin America, somewhere between say 100 BC and 300 AD, and another wave of North American Indian people, who came from the Pacific Northwest around 800 AD. See Thor Heyerdahl, American Indians in the Pacific, The Theory behind the Kon Tiki Expedition (London: George Allen & Unwin, 1952). 

  42. Houghton, People of the Great Ocean, 135–136. 

  43. Howe, Discovery and Settlement

  44. Irwin, “Voyaging and Settlement,” 56. 

  45. Matthews, “Plant Trails in Oceania,” 96. 

  46. David Penny and Anna Meyer, “DNA and the Settlement of Polynesia” in Vaka Moana, 98. 

  47. E-mail correspondence from Jose Miguel Ramirez-Aliaga to Geoff Irwin, August 8, 2006. See also Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences of the United States of America, June 19, 2007, 104/25, accessed December 1, 2007, http://www.pnas.org/content/104/25/10335

  48. Howe, Origins, 112. While Kerry Howe does not credit Heyerdahl in exactly this way, the debate which began when Andrew Sharp sought to rebut Peter Buck’s view of the Polynesians as “Vikings of the Sunrise” became much more focused after Heyerdahl seized the public relations high ground following his Kon-Tiki expedition in 1947. Howe, Origins, 60, 122. 

  49. Suggs, Island Civilizations, 212–224. Suggs also severely criticizes Heyerdahl’s methodology when he collected the blood samples which underlie the conclusions he made about the origin of Polynesian blood types (215–216). 

  50. Heyedahl, Kon-Tiki Expedition

  51. Suggs, Island Civilizations, 224. 

  52. Heyerdahl, Kon-Tiki Expedition, 21–28, 83–91. 

  53. Heyerdahl, Kon-Tiki Expedition, 47. 

  54. Heyerdahl, Kon-Tiki Expedition, 49. 

  55. Heyerdahl, Kon-Tiki Expedition, 116, 126. 

  56. Heyerdahl, Kon-Tiki Expedition, 138–139. 

  57. Heyerdahl, Kon-Tiki Expedition, 131. 

  58. Heyerdahl, Kon-Tiki Expedition, 140. 

  59. Heyerdahl, Kon-Tiki Expedition, 144. 

  60. Heyerdahl, Kon-Tiki Expedition, 151. 

  61. Heyerdahl, Kon-Tiki Expedition, 152. 

  62. Heyerdahl, Kon-Tiki Expedition, 152 

  63. Heyerdahl, Kon-Tiki Expedition, 152–153. 

  64. Heyerdahl, Kon-Tiki Expedition, 757–763. 

  65. Heyerdahl, Kon-Tiki Expedition, 367, 389, 429–439. 

  66. Heyerdahl, Kon-Tiki Expedition, 485. 

  67. Heyerdahl, Kon-Tiki Expedition, 446–453. 

  68. Heyerdahl, Kon-Tiki Expedition, 439–446. 

  69. Heyerdahl, Kon-Tiki Expedition, 469–473. 

  70. Heyerdahl, Kon-Tiki Expedition, 475. 

  71. Heyerdahl, Kon-Tiki Expedition, 488–496. 

  72. Heyerdahl, Kon-Tiki Expedition, 516–620. 

  73. Heyerdahl, Kon-Tiki Expedition, 538–553. 

  74. Heyerdahl, Kon-Tiki Expedition, 582. 

  75. Heyerdahl, Kon-Tiki Expedition, 644–649. 

  76. Heyerdahl, Kon-Tiki Expedition, 670–680. 

  77. Heyerdahl, Kon-Tiki Expedition, 695–697. 

  78. Heyerdahl, Kon-Tiki Expedition, 129, 697–700. 

  79. Robert Heine-Geldern, “Heyerdahl’s Hyothesis of Polynesian Origins: A Criticism,” The Geographical Journal, October–December 1950, 183–192. 

  80. Heine-Geldem, Heyerdahl’s Hypothesis, 183–192. In this respect, Heine-Geldern does not deviate at all from mainstream anthropology. 

  81. Heine-Geldem, Heyerdahl’s Hypothesis, 190. 

  82. See note 48. 

  83. Robert Langdon, The Lost Caravel (Sydney: Pacific Publications, 1975). 

  84. For example, see Howe, Origins,130–132, 144. 

  85. John Sorenson, personal e-mail correspondence, January 4. 2013. Professor Sorenson is better known to Latter-day Saint scholars because he has challenged and vastly extended the boundaries of Book of Mormon scholarship beginning with his seminal book, An Ancient American Setting for the Book of Mormon (Salt Lake City, Utah: Deseret Book, 1985). 

  86. John L. Sorenson, “Evidences of Culture Contacts between Polynesia and the Americas in Pre-Columbian Times,” (master’s thesis, Brigham Young University, 1952). 

  87. John L. Sorenson, personal e-mail correspondence, January 4, 2013. 

  88. Sorenson and Raish, Pre-Columbian Contact , 1996. 

  89. Sorenson and Raish, Pre-Columbian Contact, 1996. 

  90. John L. Sorenson, personal e-mail correspondence, January 4, 2013. 

  91. Department of Asian and Middle Eastern Studies, “Scientific Evidence for Pre-Columbian Transoceanic Voyages to and from the Americas,” Sino-Platonic Papers, 133, CD-ROM ed. (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania). www.sino-platonic.org

  92. Victor H. Mair, ed., Perspectives on the Global Past, vol. 2, Biological Evidence for Pre-Columbian Transoceanic Voyages, in Contact and Exchange in the Ancient World (Honolulu: University of Hawai’i Press, 2006), 238–297. 

  93. Sorenson and Johannessen, Exchanges Before 1492

“If There Be Faults, They Be Faults of a Man”

[Page 195]Review of John S. Dinger, ed., Significant Textual Changes in the Book of Mormon: The First Printed Edition Compared to the Manuscripts and to the Subsequent Major LDS English Printed Editions (Salt Lake City: Smith-Pettit Foundation/Signature Books, 2013); with foreword by Stan Larson; 418pp+ xxxvi; hardbound edition limited to 501 copies; ISBN 978-1-56085-233-9

It has been nearly 40 years since I walked into the BYU office of Stanley R. Larson in the early summer of 1974. Stan had just completed his master’s thesis, and he proudly displayed a hot-off-the-press copy of it on his desk. Stan was justifiably proud, and I could see right away while thumbing through it that this was a very important work that could be utilized as the basis for a critical text of the Book of Mormon. I did not realize then that this would become a part of Ellis T. Rasmussen’s much larger effort to prepare a new edition of LDS Scriptures (I had met Ellis in the Holy Land, and he was later kind enough to show me a mock-up of a page of the planned new edition to see what I thought of it). Continue reading

A Nickname and a Slam Dunk: Notes on the Book of Mormon Names Zeezrom and Jershon

[Page 191]Nicknames and Dysphemisms in the Bible and Ancient Mediterranean

Even in the Bible, nicknames and dysphemisms—expressions whose connotations may be offensive to the hearer—are not rare and were equally so in other parts of the ancient and early medieval world. In 1 Samuel the ungenerous husband of Abigail rudely refused hospitality to the men of David, greatly angering them. David and his men were so incensed at his offense against the laws of hospitality that they intended to punish him for his boorish behavior before they were dissuaded from their plan by Abigail (1 Samuel 25:1-35). Shortly thereafter the husband died suddenly and mysteriously (1 Samuel 25:36-37). To all subsequent history his name was given as “Nabal,” which means either “churl” or “fool,”1 a rather harsh nickname that might also shade off to a dysphemism.

The Babylonian conqueror of Jerusalem was officially named Nebuchadrezzar, a transliteration of the Hebrew name based on the Babylonian Nabu kudurri usur, “Nabu preserve my prince, my boundary.” Among his less grateful subjects he was called—perhaps privately—Nebuchadnezzar, which may be from the Babylonian Nabu kidanu usur, “Nabu, preserve the donkey,” quite an unflattering name or nickname.

[Page 192]Because as a small child Gaius Julius Caesar Augustus Germanicus (AD 12-41) made his way around the Roman military camp, where his father was commanding, in specially designed soldier’s sandals (Lat. caligae), he was affectionately called Caligula, “little boots.”2 However, calling the emperor by his nickname, originally a term of endearment, would likely have been insulting during the early part of his reign (AD 37-41) and later, after an illness left him mentally unbalanced and borderline insane, may have proved fatal.

Al-Mansur, Abbasid emperor (A.D. 754-775) during the apogee of Arab power, was given the nickname (Arab. laqab) Abu Dawaniq, “father of farthings,” on account of his thriftiness, which many interpreted as penury and miserliness.3

Zeezrom as a Nickname in the Book of Mormon

The Book of Mormon proper name Zeezrom may follow a naming pattern parallel to the Hebrew zeh Sinai, “he of Sinai” (i.e., God) (cf. Judges 5:5; Psalm 68:8) and may have the meaning “he of the Ezrom.” Ezrom/Ezrum is a Nephite word mentioned in Alma 11:6, 12, as a unit of silver measure. As a silver measure (which, in Hebrew, is kesep, “silver; money”), it may be the equivalent of money as well, indicating the meaning “he of silver, money,” suggesting Zeezrom’s early obsession with money or his willingness to resort to bribing Alma and Amulek with money to have them deny their belief in God (Alma 11:22). Happily, however, Zeezrom underwent a powerful conversion, forsook his sins, and became, with Alma and Amulek, fervent missionaries and ardent exponents of the faith.4
[Page 193]

A Book of Mormon “Slam Dunk”: The Proper Name Jershon5

When the Lamanites converted by the sons of Mosiah left their homeland to escape persecution, the Nephites allowed them to settle in the land of Jershon. The name, though not found in the Bible, has an authentic Hebrew origin, the root *YRŠ meaning “to inherit,” with the suffix -ôn that denotes place-names, and may have the meaning “place of inheritance.” Wilhelm Borée, in his important study Die alten Ortsnamen Palästinas (The Ancient Place Names of Palestine), cites fully 84 ancient Canaanite place names with the ending -ôn in biblical and extrabiblical sources (Egyptian and Mesopotamian writings, the El-Amarna letters, ostraca), including—to cite only a few examples—Ayyalon (Elon) (Joshua 19:42, 43), Eltekon (Joshua 15:58), Ashkelon (Judges 1:18), Gibeon (Joshua 9:3), Gibbethon (Joshua 19:44), and Dishon (Genesis 36:21).

We should understand Jershon in the sense of “place of inheritance” and its Hebrew root yarash in the sense of “to inherit” in Alma 27:22 (“and this land Jershon is the land which we will give unto our brethren for an inheritance”), Alma 27:24 (“that they may inherit the land Jershon”), and Alma 35:14 (“they have lands for their inheritance in the land of Jershon”) as plays on words.

Why is the Book of Mormon proper name Jershon a “slam dunk?” Because the name with all its subtle connotations is not something that Joseph Smith would have understood at the time that the Book of Mormon was translated. He began to study Hebrew seriously only while he was living in Kirtland, [Page 194]Ohio in the 1830’s, several years after the publication of the Book of Mormon.6

Conclusion

Austin Farrer, observing C. S. Lewis as an ardent and articulate defender of Christianity, noted that “though argument does not create conviction, lack of it destroys belief. What seems to be proved may not be embraced; but what no one shows the ability to defend is quickly abandoned. Rational argument does not create belief, but it maintains a climate in which belief may flourish”7 (this quotation was cited on several occasions by Neal A. Maxwell). In the spirit of this quotation, I believe that proper names in the Book of Mormon are arguably ancient. With regard to critics of the Book of Mormon, the question may thus be shifted to, “If the Book of Mormon is not an ancient document, why are there so many features in it—including proper names—that are so arguably ancient?”


  1. Ludwig Koehler and Walter Baumgartner, The Hebrew and Aramaic Lexicon of the Old Testament tr. M.E. J. Richardson (Leiden/New York: Brill, 1995), 2:663-64. 

  2. Suetonius Caligula IX; Tacitus, Annales I, 41, 69. 

  3. History of Tabari: Abbasid Authority Affirmed, tr. Jane Dammen McAuliffe (Albany: State University of New York Press, 1995), xviii. 

  4. The proper name Sherem may be understood as a dysphemism in the Book of Mormon. Sherem may be related to the Arabic noun surm, “anus.” John A. Tvedtnes observes that “although an unlikely name for a man, his character would certainly prompt some contemporary readers to think the name was an appropriate dysphemism.” From the Book of Mormon Names website at https://onoma.lib.byu.edu/onoma/index.php/SHEREM

  5. In this section I have relied heavily on the study by John A. Tvedtnes and myself, “The Hebrew Origin of Some Book of Mormon Place Names,” Journal of Book of Mormon Studies 6/2 (1997): 257-58. 

  6. The first “slam dunk” was the name Alma, mentioned previously by myself in “Some Notes on Book of Mormon Names,” in Interpreter 4(2013): 155-60, esp. 159-60, which had connotations (based on the Hebrew noun ‘elem, meaning “young man”) which Joseph Smith would not have known given the current state of his knowledge. 

  7. Austin Farrer, “The Christian Apologist,” in Light on C. S. Lewis, ed. Jocelyn Gibb (New York: Harcourt, Brace, and World, 1965), 26. 

A Note on Chiasmus in Abraham 3:22-23

[Page 187]Chiasmus, or inverted parallelism, is well-known to most students of Mormon studies;1 this note explores one instance of it in Abraham 3:22-23:

A Now the Lord had shown unto me, Abraham, the intelligences that were organized before the world was;

B and among all these there were many of the noble and great ones;

C And God saw these souls that they were good,

D and he stood in the midst of them, and he said:

E These I will make my rulers;

D’ for he stood among those that were spirits,

C’ and he saw that they were good;

B’ and he said unto me: Abraham, thou art one of them;

A’ thou wast chosen before thou wast born.

Historically, most Mormon scholars with an interest in chiasmus have focused on its apologetic value. I will leave that line of inquiry to those whose interests tend in that direction; my interests are in literary approaches to scripture. In this case, a literary analysis of this structure both heightens and clarifies the meaning of the passage.

[Page 188]The A and A’ lines emphasize the timing of the passage; the topic here is what was happening in the pre-mortal realm. These lines also hint at a relationship between being “organized” and being “chosen;” this association deserves further consideration and may help elucidate what it means for spirits to be “organized,” especially since both are described with a passive voice.2

The B and B’ lines introduce the idea of the “noble and great ones” and place Abraham among their number. From a literary perspective, it is interesting that Abraham is apparently unaware of his position among the noble and great ones until near the end of the passage; perhaps the information was presented to Abraham in this manner to make clear that the emphasis should not be on himself but rather on all of the rulers.

The C and C’ lines are very virtually identical, with references to God seeing that the souls are good. Both lines echo language from the creation accounts (God, seeing, good) and perhaps at least thematically extend the creation backwards into the pre-mortal realm. These lines might also shed a little light on what it means when the creation accounts describe the various stages of the creation as “good”; the implication in this passage is that they are organized and great.

The D and D’ lines, also very similar to each other, are at first perplexing because their references to where God is standing seem rather mundane in comparison to the doctrinal richness of the rest of the passage. But when read on a symbolic level, they position God literally “in the midst” of the souls and affirm his association with them. In this structure, the “noble and great ones”—the “rulers”—are symbolically surrounded by God. This is reminiscent of how Matthew’s Gospel introduces [Page 189]Jesus as “Emmanuel,” which, as Matthew takes pains to inform us, means “God with us;”3 that gospel ends with Jesus promising that he will be with them always.4 The point in both Matthew and Abraham is that the righteous are in a sense surrounded by the divine presence.

The E line calls the careful reader’s attention to the fact that the selection of these noble ones as rulers is the focal point of the passage. This is perhaps the most important result of an analysis of the chiastic structure because it makes clear that this passage is not primarily about Abraham (despite the references to him at the beginning and the end) but rather about the ruling role of all of the noble and great ones. Because the central line emphasizes God’s action of “making,” the creation themes mentioned previously are re-emphasized. The structure also comments on God’s actions: God’s “making” action is central and is surrounded first by standing in the midst of God’s creations and then surrounded by God’s seeing action. This seeing/standing/making structure posits God as active and involved in creation.

Further, note how the form coheres with the content: the tight and deliberate literary structure of the passage by itself emphasizes the idea of a plan and structure for life of earth. Finally, I note that Abraham 3:22-23 is one of the Scripture Mastery passages, and this otherwise difficult-to-memorize text becomes much easier to remember when the chiasmus is recognized.[Page 190]


  1. See John W. Welch, “Chiasmus in the Book of Mormon,” BYU Studies 10, no. 1, 1969. See also John W. Welch, Chiasmus in Antiquity, available at https://scholarsarchive.byu.edu/mi/22/

  2. In NT studies, this is often considered to be a “divine passive,” meaning a passive voice used to avoid mentioning God as the subject out of respect for the name of God. 

  3. See Matthew 1:23. 

  4. See Matthew 28:20. The phrase is even more compelling in Greek, where the title “I AM” has the words “with you” inserted into the middle of it. 

Book of Mormon Minimalists and the NHM Inscriptions: A Response to Dan Vogel

[Page 157]Abstract: Biblical “minimalists” have sought to undermine or de-emphasize the significance of the Tel Dan inscription attesting to the existence of the “house of David.” Similarly, those who might be called Book of Mormon “minimalists” such as Dan Vogel have marshaled evidence to try to make the nhm inscriptions from south Arabia, corresponding to the Book of Mormon Nahom, seem as irrelevant as possible. We show why the nhm inscriptions still stand as impressive evidence for the historicity of the Book of Mormon.

The debate over the historicity of the Hebrew Bible’s depiction of the Davidic monarchy reignited over an important archaeological discovery that surfaced in northern Israel in 1993–94. The so-called Tel Dan inscription, a basalt stele written in Aramaic and dating to the ninth century bce, was highly significant in that it was the earliest non-biblical attestation of bytdwd, or the “house of David.” The significance of this discovery lies in the fact that it challenges the arguments of biblical “minimalists,” or scholars who assign minimal value to the historical reliability of the Hebrew Bible, who wish to relegate the biblical depiction of the Davidic kingdom to myth.1

[Page 158]Yosef Garfinkel, writing in the Biblical Archaeology Review, has summarized how this discovery undermines the minimalist argument by noting that the inscription “is clear evidence that David was indeed a historical figure and the founding father of a dynasty.… There was a David. He was a king. And he founded a dynasty.”2 What’s more, Garfinkel observes that “the minimalists reacted in panic, leading to a number of suggestions that now seem ridiculous.”3 Ultimately, says Garfinkel, “[minimalist] arguments… can be classified as displaying ‘paradigm–collapse trauma,’ that is, literary compilations of groundless arguments, masquerading as scientific writing through footnotes, references and publication in professional journals.”4

Perhaps Garfinkel is somewhat exaggerating the significance of the Tel Dan inscription and its evidentiary weight against minimalist arguments. While significant, the Tel Dan inscription cannot be seen as proof, per se, of the historicity of David’s dynasty, though it is compelling evidence for such. Significant scholarly debate still revolves around the importance of the Tel Dan inscription. Most scholars would concede that the discovery offers evidence for the historicity of [Page 159]the Davidic kingdom, and that “attempts to avoid any possible reference to an historical David… stem… from a form of scepticism at odds with all known ancient practices.”5

Regardless of one’s conclusions about the Tel Dan inscription’s significance, Garfinkel’s comments about the minimalist reaction to the Tel Dan inscription calls to mind a similar attitude of those who might be called Book of Mormon minimalists—that is, scholars who assign little to no historical value to the Book of Mormon. One sees this attitude in the reaction of some scholars to the nhm altar discoveries, which have been hailed by others as the first archaeological attestation of a Book of Mormon toponym besides Jerusalem (see 1 Nephi 16:34).6 Dan Vogel, a biographer of Joseph Smith, exemplifies this minimalist reaction in his 2004 account of the Prophet’s life. Vogel, who has usually proven to be one of Joseph Smith’s more informed critics, dismisses the significance of the nhm [Page 160]inscription for the Book of Mormon’s historicity on five grounds.

(1) What need was there for a compass if Lehi followed a well-known route? (2) The Book of Mormon does not mention contact with outsiders, but rather implies that contact was avoided. (3) It is unlikely that migrant Jews would be anxious to bury their dead in a heathen cemetery. (4) There is no evidence dating the Arabian nhm before A.D. 600, let alone 600 B.C. (5) The pronunciation of nhm is unknown and may not be related to Nahom at all.7

We will argue for the weakness of Vogel’s five objections, which parallel the sort of reaction that biblical minimalists exhibited over the Tel Dan inscription discovery.

(1) “What need was there for a compass if Lehi followed a well-known route?”

Here Vogel seems to be referring not to the correlation of Nahom, per se, but rather the popular notion that Lehi was following the Frankincense Trail, which leads generally south-southeast, the direction Lehi’s party traveled (see 1 Nephi 16:13–14, 33). It then turns eastward around the Nihm tribal territory, where the altars were found, which is also consistent with where Nephi reports they changed course and “did travel nearly eastward” (1 Nephi 17:1).8

[Page 161]Asking why a compass was necessary seems akin to asking why one needs a GPS when traveling in an unfamiliar city—after all, it has well-known, clearly marked roads (and even helpful road signs for direction). The mere presence of roads, however, does not eliminate the need for navigation. Lehi was in unfamiliar territory, and the Liahona lead him and his family to where the Lord wanted them to go. While Lehi may have known of the Frankincense Trail, there is no reason to assume he had previously traveled it before and thus would have known the route.

[Page 162]Vogel’s argument seems to assume that Lehi was a caravaneer who would have therefore frequently traveled this way. This idea was made popular by Hugh Nibley,9 but has more recently fallen out of favor.10 In light of more recent evidence, it seems more likely that Lehi was a metalworker.11 This has some interesting implications when it comes to travel routes and the use of the Liahona. When traveling from Jerusalem to the Red Sea, and then a short three-day stint to get to the Valley of Lemuel, Lehi and his family apparently didn’t need the Liahona. Jeffrey R. Chadwick offers this explanation:

Why did Lehi and Nephi seem to have readily known the way from Jerusalem to the Red Sea (Gulf of Eilat) and back without the aid of the Liahona, which they later needed in Arabia? The fact that copper ore was mined in several locations near the Gulf of Eilat and in northern Sinai… could suggest that Lehi and Nephi had traveled to the region several times over the years to obtain copper supplies and knew the route well [Page 163]prior to their permanent departure from Jerusalem in 1 Nephi 2.12

If Chadwick is correct, then Lehi and his family would have probably been in unfamiliar territory once they traveled past that point into the Arabian deserts—which explains the sudden appearance of the Liahona.

LDS researchers have frequently noted that the roads and trails are not clearly marked along the route. S. Kent Brown explains, “It is not really possible to speak of a single trail. At times this trail was only a few yards wide when it traversed mountain passes. At others, it was several miles across. In places the trail split into two or more branches that, at a point farther on, would reunite into one main road.”13 After not only researching but also traveling along the trail, Lynn and Hope Hilton made this same point back in 1976.14 Similarly, Warren and Michaela Aston also both researched and traveled to the area, and made a similar observation in 1994.15 Most recently, after both research and travel, George Potter and Richard Wellington made the same point in 2003, as a response to the very question of needing the Liahona:

[Page 164]One might ask, “If they traveled along a trail why did they need the Liahona to show them the way? They could have just walked along the road.” One needs to understand that the Frankincense Trail was not a road in the sense that we are used to. There was no delineated trail along which to walk. It was simply a general course that would take one to the next caravan halt and water… . Lehi would have needed a guide, and for those times that the family was traveling alone, the Liahona was capable of taking a guide’s place.16

There are a number of reasons Lehi may have needed navigation despite following a “trail.” While interaction with some people would have been necessary and inevitable (see below), the Liahona may have helped the group avoid marauders and others who would have been hostile toward Lehi and his family. Besides simply getting them from water hole to water hole, the Liahona may have helped guide them to where there would have been the most available game for hunting (see 1 Nephi 16:30–32). Lastly, the group’s final destination (Bountiful) was not necessarily where the trail would ultimately lead; thus, they needed navigation to find it.17

Nevertheless, questioning why the Liahona was necessary misses the point entirely. As noted, navigational aids are necessary with or without roads and trails, and for a number of reasons. The Frankincense Trail is significant not because it provided Lehi and his family with a means to navigate the region, but rather because its existence shows that travel through the arid desert in the direction claimed by the text is [Page 165]completely possible. It means that absolute necessities, such as water and food, were available. Although they have never been to Arabia, Ed J. Pinegar and Richard J. Allen capture the importance of this quite well:

Imagine struggling to survive in the midst of an immense and hostile desert environment reflecting an ominous sameness in all directions. We are heeding the directive of God to attain a promised land of safety—but how far away and in which direction? Our provisions are strictly limited. Where do we turn meanwhile for nourishment and water?18

Survival in the desert is not a given, and “Lehi could not have carved out a route for himself without water.”19 The trail provided the necessary means for water and nourishment, as Potter and Wellington, who have traveled the course, explain, “The course of the Frankincense Trail can be explained in one word—water, the most precious commodity of all to the desert traveler.”20

In wondering why travelers along a trail would need navigation, Vogel has completely missed the significance of that trail. “Even in the most stable of times,” Brown reports, “trudging off into the bowels of the Arabian desert invited a swarm of troubles, what with… a lack of water, food, and fuel.”21 The Frankincense Trail provided for those needs. If Joseph Smith did make this up, then he coincidentally sent his group packing off into the only direction where long-term travel was possible in what one party has called “the most hellish terrain [Page 166]and climate on earth.”22 Vogel’s minimalist approach fails to interact with these realities of desert travel. He needs to explain how Joseph Smith knew where to have the group travel, and when to turn eastward toward the interior of the desert.

(2) “The Book of Mormon does not mention contact with outsiders, but rather implies that contact was avoided.”

Without any actual references to the Book of Mormon, it is hard to know what Vogel means by saying it “implies that contact was avoided.” We assume that Vogel has in mind the statement in 1 Nephi 17:12 that “the Lord had not hitherto suffered that we should make much fire, as we journeyed in the wilderness.”

It is certainly true that more than a few LDS scholars and researchers have read into this passage the implication that they were trying to avoid contact.23 Notice, however, that this is not mentioned until after they have passed through Nahom, and several scholars have suggested that the conditions of the area east of the Nihm territory explain why they would want to avoid contact. For instance, Aston suggests that only after Nahom are they traveling in less populated areas, and hence as a small group would be more vulnerable to desert marauders.24 Brown, meanwhile, reasons that it is because they are now traveling in hostile territory, where contact might be dangerous [Page 167]or detrimental.25 In either case, the actual implication is that they had greater contact with others during earlier parts of the journey.

What’s more, although it is certainly common, that is not the only interpretation of 1 Nephi 17:12. It can also simply be read as meaning that burning fires simply had not been necessary. Jeffrey R. Chadwick responds to both Aston and Brown on this matter:

Nor do I think that the avoidance of fire was at the Lord’s command. Though Aston suggests it was “the Lord’s instruction not to ‘make much fire’” and Brown mentions “the commandment that Nephi’s party not make fire,” this language is not in the text of 1 Nephi itself. What Nephi specifically wrote is that “the Lord had not hitherto suffered that we should make much fire, as we journeyed in the wilderness” (1 Nephi 17:12). While the term suffered could be understood as allowed or permitted, in the context of the passage it could also be understood as Nephi attributing to the Lord the fact that, for practical reasons, they had simply not made much fire on their journey.

There are three quite practical reasons why Lehi’s group would not have made much fire. (1) The availability of firewood or other fuel was not consistent, and in some areas where few trees and shrubs grew, kindling would have been largely absent. (2) The party would often [Page 168]have traveled at night, particularly in the hot months, which means that their resting hours were during the daylight, when no fire would be needed for visibility. (3) They cooked very little of their food, animal meat or otherwise, which seems obvious from the Lord’s promise: “I will make thy food become sweet, that ye cook it not” (1 Nephi 17:12).26

So 1 Nephi 17:12 need not necessarily imply anything about avoiding contact with others. Of course, none of this may matter since there is no telling whether Vogel has 1 Nephi 17:12 in mind or not. However, we are unaware of any other passage that potentially “implies” any kind of effort to avoid contact with others, and Vogel needs to do more than just make an assertion here.

On the other hand, almost everyone who has commented on Nahom has pointed out that the use of the passive voice in 1 Nephi 16:34—in contrast with all other place names in 1 Nephi, which are actively given by Lehi and company—implies that it was a pre-existent place name, which naturally implies there were people there.27 S. Kent Brown makes note of this, and other facts which suggest Lehi was traveling among others.

[Page 169]The expression “the place which was called Nahom” indicates that the family learned the name Nahom from others (1 Nephi 16:34). In addition, when family members were some fourteen hundred miles from home at Nahom, some knew that it was possible to return (1 Nephi 16:36), even though they had run out of food twice (16:17–19, 39). Evidently, family members had met people making the journey from south Arabia to the Mediterranean area. Further, the Lord’s commandment to Lehi about not taking more than one wife, if Lehi received it in Arabia, may point to unsavory interaction there (see Jacob 2:23–24). Moreover, Doctrine and Covenants 33:8 hints that Nephi may have preached to people in Arabia, although the reference may be to preaching to members of his own traveling party.28

Vogel ignores these and other reasons given by LDS scholars for implying interaction with others and provides a truly minimalist reading: what is not explicitly mentioned in the text is simply not there at all.29 Meanwhile, Aston, Brown, [Page 170]and Chadwick each provide readings that realistically situate the text in real time and space. Vogel needs to engage these arguments if he wishes to assert that the record implies that Nephi and his family avoided contact with others.

(3) “It is unlikely that migrant Jews would be anxious to bury their dead in a heathen cemetery.”

Our first objection to this claim is that the Book of Mormon says nothing about Ishmael being buried in a “heathen cemetery.” It simply reports that Ishmael died and was “buried in the place which was called Nahom” (1 Nephi 16:34). It is likely that Vogel is referring to the burial grounds at Nihm, which Aston has suggested may be where the families of Lehi and Ishmael buried the latter.30 Aston does note that the local people “were pagans, in the true sense of the word,”31 but would that in any way be problematic?

Vogel’s argument rests on an assumption that is left unsupported by any evidence. Is there any biblical stipulation against the burying of Israelite dead in a “heathen cemetery”? The Law of Moses, as far as we can tell, offers no such proscription, and announces only ritual impurity for those who come in contact with a corpse (see Numbers 19:16; Deuteronomy 21:22–23). Is there any evidence that ancient Israelites were opposed to the idea of burying their dead in foreign cemeteries?

In truth, expatriated Jews like Lehi and his family had no choice but to bury their dead in the cemeteries of foreign lands. Joseph Modrzejewski has called attention to the presence of cemeteries in Ptolemaic Alexandria and Leontopolis [Page 171]that served as the final resting place of Jews and pagans alike,32 and Leonard Victor Rutgers shows the widespread presence of communal Jewish–Christian–Pagan cemeteries during the Roman Era.33 What’s more, besides evidently not being averse to burying their dead in foreign cemeteries, pious Jews were also not averse to syncretizing some of the “heathen” burial practices and beliefs of their neighbors.34 The evidence discussed above is, admittedly, from a later period, but this is only natural, as “most of our knowledge of Israelite and early Jewish burial practices derives from the Second Temple period and later.”35

We must therefore reject Vogel’s assumption, as archaeological evidence contradicts it. If Lehi and his family were as pious as Nephi depicts them as being, to not have buried Ishmael, in a “heathen cemetery” or otherwise, would have been a grave theological and cultural offense, as the ancient Israelites considered it “a horrifying indignity” to leave “a corpse unburied.”36 What would be suspicious is if the Book of Mormon did not report on Ishmael’s burial at this pivotal point in Nephi’s narrative.

(4) “There is no evidence dating the Arabian nhm before A.D. 600, let alone 600 B.C.”

Here Vogel is simply wrong. The non-Mormon archaeologist Burkhard Vogt of the Deutsches Archäologisches Institute, who is [Page 172]likely totally unaware of the significance of the nhm altars for the historicity of the Book of Mormon, wrote in 1997 that the altars are an “archaic type dating from the 7th to 6th centuries before Christ.”37 Vogel was either unaware of this source or unable to read the French when he asserted in 2004 that there is no evidence for “dating the Arabian nhm before A.D. 600.” We can perhaps forgive Vogel for overlooking Vogt, who published his findings with a foreign press and in a foreign language, but we cannot easily pardon him for overlooking the English sources published before his book, including one that he cites himself (!),38 that also discuss the nhm altars as pre-dating 600 bce.39

But the situation has only become worse for Vogel since his 2004 assertion, as Aston has recently documented additional inscriptional evidence placing the nhm toponym before 600 bce.40 Although more work on the dating of this inscriptional [Page 173]evidence needs to be done, there is no real controversy over the dating of the nhm altars, which easily predate Lehi. Only minimalists like Vogel object to the dating—albeit on ideological, not scholarly, grounds.

(5) “The pronunciation of nhm is unknown and may not be related to Nahom at all.”

The tribe and territory of nhm still exist in the area today, and local pronunciations range from “Neh-hem”41 to “Nä-hum,”42 and the name has been translated in a variety of ways, including Naham and Nahm.43 There is no reason “Nahom” should be considered beyond the pale. When written, Semitic languages do not need to include vowels, so the altars simply have nhm (in South Arabian), and Nephi’s record would have been no different.44 As such, no closer correlation in name could be asked for. As S. Kent Brown puts it, “Such discoveries demonstrate as firmly as possible by archaeological means the existence of the tribal name nhm in that part of Arabia in the seventh and sixth centuries B.C., the general dates assigned to [Page 174]the carving of the altars by the excavators.”45 But Vogel adds a more specific objection here that deserves additional response.

“This last point deserves further comment,” Vogel insists as he raises this objection to rebut the theory of S. Kent Brown, who, according to Vogel, “associate[s] Smith’s Nahom with a Hebrew root meaning ‘to comfort, console, to be sorry,’ which they believe refers to Ishmael’s death and burial, although the place was named before Lehi’s arrival.”46 Brown’s specific argument, per Vogel’s citation, is that

in Hebrew, the combination of these three consonants [nhm] points to a root word that can mean “comfort” or “compassion.” (The meanings are different in the Old South Arabian language.) The reason Nephi mentioned this name while remaining silent about any other place names encountered on their trip (with the possible exception of Shazer) was likely because he considered that the existing name of the spot, “comfort” in his language, was evidence of the hand of the Lord over them, although Ishmael’s own family (including Nephi’s wife) seems not to have been at all positive (see 1 Nephi 16:35).47

The Hebrew root in question is נחם (nḥm). As a Niphal verb it means “to be sorry, to console oneself,” and as a Piel verb it means “to comfort, console.” In its nominal form the root means “comfort” or “sorrow.”48 Vogel argues that Brown’s [Page 175]association between Nahom in 1 Nephi 16:34 and the root nḥm is untenable because “the nhm on the altars and on an eighteenth-century map are written with a soft h whereas the root for consolation in Hebrew is written with a hard h.”49 Vogel does not offer any sources for his assertion that “an eighteenth-century map” renders nhm with a soft h. We must turn, therefore, to James Gee, who has compiled a number of maps from the 18th century that do mark the presence of the Nehem/Nehhm region of south Arabia.50

The issue with the maps aside, the real problem with Vogel’s argument is his assumption that because the Book of Mormon is a modern text originally composed in English, the soft h in Nahom therefore rules out Brown’s intriguing suggestion of a word play on the name with the Hebrew root nḥm, which Vogel correctly notes is not spelled with an aspirated ה () but rather with the guttural ח (ḥêt). This argument, however, only works insofar as one accepts Vogel’s assumption that the Book of Mormon is modern. If in fact the underlying text of the Book of Mormon was the product of Hebrew-speaking Israelites of the 6th century bce, then there is no good reason to rule out the likelihood of Brown’s proposal, but good reason to accept it.

If in fact the Book of Mormon’s Nahom was originally written, or at least pronounced, with a ḥêt, the question then arises as to why Joseph Smith rendered Nahom with a soft h and not a guttural h in his translation. The answer is actually quite simple. English lacks a guttural h. The closest vocalization English has that is comparable to the Hebrew guttural ḥêt is a velar “ch” or “k” (as in the “ch” in “chaos” or the “k” in [Page 176]“king”). A problem still remains for English speakers though, as Thomas Lambdin, in his prestigious Hebrew grammar, straightforwardly notes that there is “no Eng[lish] equivalent” for the Hebrew letter ḥêt.51

As such, English translators, with no other recourse, are obliged to render the Hebrew ḥêt with a soft h. (Academic transliterations, such as those recommended by the SBL Handbook of Style, at least extend us the courtesy of transliterating a ḥêt with “ḥ,” so as to distinguish between it and .52) Accordingly, there is no shortage of Hebrew words spelled with a ḥêt that, as standard practice, are transliterated with a soft “h” in English. Words like Messiah (Hebrew משׁיח), and Hittite (Hebrew חתי), and names including (Mt.) Horeb (Hebrew חרב), Nahum (Hebrew נחום), Haggai (Hebrew חגי) and Noah (Hebrew נח) all feature a ḥêt that is simply rendered with a soft “h” in English.

Of course, Brown is not oblivious to the fact that Nahom and the root nḥm are vocalized differently. “In Arabic and in Old South Arabian,” Brown writes, “the letter h in Nihm represents a soft aspiration, whereas the h in the Hebrew word Nahom is the letter ḥet and carries a stronger, rasping sound.”53 All Brown is saying is that “it is reasonable that when the party of Lehi heard the Arabian name Nihm (however it was then pronounced), the term Nahom came to their minds.”54 More [Page 177]recently, Stephen D. Ricks similarly wrote, “these etymologies [of the Hebrew nḥm] are not reflected in the geographic name Nehem because both contain the dotted h, not the simple h. Still, it is possible that the name Nahom served as the basis of a play on words by Lehi’s party that Nephi recorded.”55

The wordplay suggested by Brown, Ricks, and others is reasonable. Such wordplays are common in Semitic and ancient Near Eastern texts, especially on proper nouns.56 And words need not look or sound exactly alike in order to evoke such plays on words. In fact, Gary A. Rendsburg suggests a similar bilingual wordplay in Genesis on the name Ham (Ḥām), where the Hebrew name is played off of the Egyptian biconsonantal noun ḥm, which can mean either “majesty” or “slave.”57 As Rendsburg points out, Ham is the progenitor of “the extent of the Egyptian Empire during the New Kingdom”58 in Genesis [Page 178]10:6, making Ham (symbolizing Egypt) the “majesty” or ruler of those territories. Likewise, in Genesis 9:20–27 Ham’s son, Canaan (Kĕnaʿan)59 becomes a slave (ʿebed) to Ham’s brothers because Ham saw Noah naked.60 This is interesting in light of the wordplay suggested for the Book of Mormon between the Hebrew nḥm and the South Arabian place name nhm not only because both are bilingual, but also because Rendsburg’s suggested wordplay also involves different h phonemes (i.e, the h’s sound different in the two words being compared). Rendsburg explains:

True, the of both Egyptian words, “majesty” and “slave,” is a voiceless pharyngeal /ḥ/, whereas the of the Hebrew Ḥām “Ham” represents a voiceless velar or voiceless uvular, that is, Semitic /ḫ/ (a point that can be determined by the Septuagint transcription of the proper name as Χὰμ)… . But this issue does not militate against the overall conclusion that Ḥām “Ham” and Kĕnaʿan “Canaan” work together in the pericope to produce the desired effect.61

But even if we suppose that Vogel is right, and the idea of a wordplay between Nahom and nḥm is untenable, there is still the matter of the Book of Mormon correctly placing an archaeologically verified toponym at the right place and during the right time in south Arabia, which is something that Vogel does not account for in his arguments against the Book of Mormon.[Page 179]

Does the Bible provide a simpler explanation?

After raising his five objections, Vogel concludes, “It seems simpler to suggest that Smith’s Nahom is a variant of Naham (1 Chronicles 4:19), Nehum (Nehum 7:7), or Nahum (Nehum 1:1).”62 Once again, though, Vogel’s suggestion reflects a minimalist reading, which merely accounts for the presence of the word in the text. The connection between Nahom and the Nihm tribal territory, however, is much more intricate and complex than this. Both Nahom in the Book of Mormon and Nihm in Southern Arabia match in the following interlocking details:

  1. Both are places with a Semitic name based on the tri-consonantal root nhm.
  2. Both pre-date 600 bce (implied in 1 Nephi 16:34).63
  3. Both are places for the burial of the dead (1 Nephi 16:34).64
  4. Both are at the southern end of a travel route moving south-southeast (1 Nephi 16:13–14, 33), which subsequently turns toward the east from that point (1 Nephi 17:1).65
  5. Both have “bountiful” lands, consistent in 12 particular details, approximately east of its location (1 Nephi 17:4).66

[Page 180]While the presence of similar names in the Bible might be able to explain the first of these correlations, it simply cannot account for the all the ways the two places correspond. As Daniel C. Peterson once commented, “nhm isn’t just a name. It is a name and a date and a place and a turn in the ancient frankincense trail and a specific relationship to another location.”67 Suggesting that Joseph Smith simply got the name Nahom from the Bible is an insufficient explanation of the correlation.

Other Minimalist Arguments

In addition to Vogel’s attempted explanation that the name was just being pilfered from the Bible, others have also attempted to dismiss this evidence in ways that also betray minimalist readings.

Some have suggested that Joseph Smith may have seen one of the 18th century maps already mentioned.68 There are several problems with this suggestion:

  1. There is no evidence that Joseph Smith ever saw one of these maps. One online article counters by saying “there is also no evidence that he or one of his acquaintances did not have access to these sources.”69 Though negative proof can, at times, be informative on a topic, positive claims like this come with a burden of proof. Historians don’t [Page 181]entertain pure speculation simply because there is no evidence that something didn’t happen. This tactic, in this context, is fallacious.
  2. These maps were not accessible to Joseph Smith. The claim in the online article that “Allegheny College in Meadville Pennsylvania is about 50 miles from Harmony”70 is simply false. There is a Harmony, Pennsylvania, that is close to 50 miles from Meadville, but the Harmony Township where Joseph Smith did most of the translating of the Book of Mormon is where Oakland, Pennsylvania, is now located.71 Oakland is approximately 275–325 miles of travel from Allegheny College.72
  3. These maps have hundreds of toponyms. Why is Nahom the only one that shows up in the Book of Mormon, and how is it that Joseph Smith was so lucky that the one he just happened to pick is the only one that can be traced as far back as Lehi’s day?73
  4. Even these maps give no indication of the eastward turn.74
  5. The maps do not show the presence of a place fitting the description of Bountiful.75
  6. These maps could not have informed Joseph Smith that the area would provide suitable burial grounds for a deceased member of the traveling party.

In short, this theory leaves just as much unexplained as Vogel’s appeal to the Bible does.

[Page 182]Others have tried to diminish the significance of the correlation by suggesting that nhm is a very common name. This has been done in two ways. The first is by suggesting that there are several locations along the Arabian Peninsula that have the root nhm in their toponym, and insinuating that LDS scholars have been all over the map proposing these different nhm‘s as Nahom.76 This argument is flat out wrong. Writing in 1976, the Hiltons did not identify any toponyms with the root nhm. A couple years later, Ross T. Christensen first noticed one of the 18th century maps and observed, “Nehhm is only a little south of the route drawn by the Hiltons [in 1976].”77 In other words, though they were a bit farther to the north, the Hiltons had us already looking in the right general area. All proposals since then have been that the Arabian Nihm/Nehem is the Book of Mormon Nahom. Warren P. Aston, who has presented on his findings on the nhm tribe/territory in an academic conference at Cambridge University,78 has stressed that there is only one place on the whole of the Arabian Peninsula with nhm as a toponym.79

[Page 183]More recently, an attempt has been made to diminish the apparent significance by expanding the search for nhm‘s beyond the Arabian Peninsula to worldwide locations.80 Chris Johnson explains:

It’s three letters… . But what is the significance of the evidence for the Joseph Smith as a prophet-translator? What is the evidence?… So here’s the significance: We have nhm in Germany, Austria, Iran, Zimbabwe, Angola, Israel, Canada, and basically everywhere you look you can find those three letters. I’m sure there’s a dozen companies named nhm that all around the world as well.… nhm happened to be some of the most common letters. So the significance of nhm is lacking.81

The insinuation is that such names are so common that nhm/Nahom is lacking in statistical significance, or, in other words, this kind of match could just be random chance. This [Page 184]argument, like Vogel’s, reduces the evidence to just a name in order to make the name seem insignificant.

This isn’t simply a matter of how common nhm toponyms are today. The only nhm in the Book of Mormon (Nahom)82 shows up in a position along a path, in relation to other places, in a narrative set in the early 6th century bce.83 It just happens to appear in a context that converges in location, date, and descriptive details with the only nhm toponym along the ancient Arabian trail. Johnson needs to show the probability, based on how nhm toponyms were distributed ca. 600 bce, that one of them would show up in a position, along a path, that could be reasonably interpreted as fitting the narrative in 1 Nephi.84 Only then would all the appropriate factors have been accounted for, but to do so would also greatly reduce the probability of a random correlation and increase its significance, something Johnson does not want.

Conclusion

We’ve looked at Vogel’s five points of argumentation on this matter, as well the arguments of some others, and find them wanting. The discovery of the nhm altars remain as, if [Page 185]not more, significant for the historicity of the Book of Mormon as the Tel Dan inscription is for the historicity of the Davidic kingdom recorded in the Hebrew Bible. Book of Mormon minimalists like Vogel will have to try much harder to dismiss this significant evidence for the antiquity of the Book of Mormon. For, as Brant Gardner comments, “the data pointing to the connection between the Book of Mormon Nahom and the now-confirmed location of a tribe (and likely place) called nhm are extremely strong. The description fits, the linguistics fit, the geography fits, and the time frame fits. Outside of Jerusalem, nhm is the most certain connection between the Book of Mormon and known geography and history.”85

We would like to thank Dr. Stephen D. Ricks, professor of Hebrew and Cognate Learning at Brigham Young University, for providing feedback on an earlier version of this paper.


  1. A translation of the Tel Dan inscription can be found in Alan Millard, “The Tel Dan Stele,” in The Context of Scripture: Volume II, Monumental Inscriptions from the Biblical World, ed. William W. Hallo (Leiden: Brill, 2000), 161–62. For commentary on the significance of the Tel Dan stele, see generally Carol Meyers, “Kinship and Kingship: The Early Monarchy,” in The Oxford History of the Biblical World, ed. Michael D. Coogan (New York, N. Y.: Oxford University Press, 1998), 175; Edward F. Campbell Jr., “A Land Divided: Judah and Israel from the Death of Solomon to the Fall of Samaria,” in The Oxford History of the Biblical World, 225; William G. Dever, What Did the Biblical Writers Know & When Did They Know it? What Archaeology Can Tell Us about the Reality of Ancient Israel (Grand Rapids, Mich.: William B. Eerdmans, 2001), 128–29, 166–67; Kenneth A. Kitchen, On the Reliability of the Old Testament (Grand Rapids, Mich.: William B. Eerdmans, 2006), 36–37; Siegfried H. Horn and P. Kyle McCarter Jr., “The Divided Monarchy: The Kingdoms of Judah and Israel,” in Ancient Israel: From Abraham to the Roman Destruction of the Temple, 3rd ed., ed. Hershel Shanks (Washington, D. C.: Biblical Archaeology Society, 2011), 152. 

  2. Yosef Garfinkel, “The Birth & Death of Biblical Minimalism,” Biblical Archaeology Review 37/3 (May/Jun 2011): 47. 

  3. Garfinkel, “The Birth & Death of Biblical Minimalism,” 47. 

  4. Garfinkel, “The Birth & Death of Biblical Minimalism,” 47. 

  5. Millard, “Tel Dan Stele,” 162 n. 11. 

  6. See S. Kent Brown, “‘The Place that Was Called Nahom’: New Light from Ancient Yemen,” Journal of Book of Mormon Studies 8/1 (1999): 66–68; Warren P. Aston, “Newly Found Altars from Nahom,” Journal of Book of Mormon Studies 10/2 (2001): 56–61; Terryl Givens, By the Hand of Mormon: The American Scripture that Launched a New World Religion (New York, N. Y.: Oxford University Press, 2002), 120–21; S. Kent Brown, “New Light from Arabia on Lehi’s Trail,” in Echoes and Evidences of the Book of Mormon, ed. Donald W. Parry, Daniel C. Peterson, and John W. Welch (Provo, Utah: Foundation for Ancient Research and Mormon Studies, 2002), 81–83; Richard Bushman, Joseph Smith: Rough Stone Rolling (New York, N. Y.: Alfred A. Knopf, 2005), 93; S. Kent Brown and Peter Johnson, eds., Journey of Faith: From Jerusalem to the Promised Land (Provo, Utah: Neal A. Maxwell Institute for Religious Scholarship, 2006), 105; Brant A. Gardner, Second Witness: Analytical and Contextual Commentary on the Book of Mormon, 6 vols. (Salt Lake City, Utah: Greg Kofford Books, 2007), 1:286–89; Stephen D. Ricks, “On Lehi’s Trail: Nahom, Ishmael’s Burial Place,” Journal of the Book of Mormon and Other Restoration Scripture 20/1 (2011): 66–68; Robert F. Smith, “Nahom,” in The Book of Mormon Onomasticon, online at https://onoma.lib.byu.edu/onoma/index.php/NAHOM (accessed October 19, 2013); John A. Tvedtnes, “Names of People: Book of Mormon,” in Encyclopedia of Hebrew Language and Linguistics, 4 vols., ed. Geoffrey Khan (Leiden/Boston: E.J. Brill, 2013), 2:787. 

  7. Dan Vogel, Joseph Smith: The Making of a Prophet (Salt Lake City, Utah: Signature Books, 2004), 609 n. 17. For a previously published brief rejoinder to Vogel, see Robert Boylan, “On Not Understanding the Book of Mormon,” FARMS Review 22/1 (2010): 183–85. Our response here will differ somewhat from Boylan’s rejoinder. Also see Stephen D. Ricks, “Some Notes on Book of Mormon Names,” Interpreter: A Journal of Mormon Scripture 4 (2013): 157–58, which only responds to one (number 4) of Vogel’s objections. To our knowledge, these are the only responses to Vogel’s objections yet published. 

  8. This has been a widely held view among Latter-day Saint scholars and researchers for nearly 40 years. See Lynn M. Hilton and Hope A. Hilton, “In Search of Lehi’s Trail—Part 1: The Preparation,” Ensign (September 1976): 44; Eugene England, “Through the Arabian Desert to a Bountiful Land: Could Joseph Smith Have Known the Way?” in Book of Mormon Authorship: New Light on Ancient Origins, ed. Noel B. Reynolds (Provo, Utah: BYU Religious Studies Center, 1982; reprint FARMS, 1996), 150; Paul R. Cheesmen, “Lehi’s Journeys,” in First Nephi: The Doctrinal Foundation, ed. Monte S. Nyman and Charles D. Tate Jr. (Provo, Utah: BYU Religious Study Center, 1989; reprint Greg Kofford Books, 2007), 244; Warren P. Aston and Michaela J. Aston, Stephen D. Ricks, and John W. Welch “Lehi’s Trail and Nahom Revisited,” in Reexploring the Book of Mormon: A Decade of New Research, ed. John W. Welch (Provo, Utah: FARMS, 1992), 47–50; Warren P. Aston and Michaela Knoth Aston, In the Footsteps of Lehi: New Evidence of Lehi’s Journey across Arabia to Bountiful (Salt Lake City, Utah: Deseret Book, 1994), 4–6, 30; Noel B. Reynolds, “Lehi’s Arabian Journey Updated,” in Book of Mormon Authorship Revisited: The Evidence for Ancient Origins, ed. Noel B. Reynolds (Provo, Utah: FARMS, 1997), 381–82; Brown, “New Light from Arabia,” 83–85; George Potter and Richard Wellington, Lehi in the Wilderness: 81 New, Documented Evidences That the Book of Mormon is a True History (Springville, Utah: Cedar Fort, 2003), 53–72; S. Kent Brown, Voices from the Dust: Book of Mormon Insights (American Fork, Utah: Covenant Communications, 2004), 31–32; Warren P. Aston, “Across Arabia with Lehi and Sariah: ‘Truth Shall Spring out of the Earth’,” Journal of Book of Mormon Studies 15/2 (2006): 12–13; George Potter and Richard Wellington, “Lehi’s Trail: From the Valley of Lemuel to Nephi’s Harbor,” Journal of Book of Mormon Studies 15/2 (2006): 26–43; David A. LeFevre, “We Did Again Take Our Journey,” Journal of Book of Mormon Studies 15/2 (2006): 61; Daniel B. McKinley, “The Brightening Light on the Journey of Lehi and Sariah,” Journal of Book of Mormon Studies 15/2 (2006): 78; Gardner, Second Witness, 1:276. For the eastward turn in the route, see Aston and Aston, In the Footsteps of Lehi, 22; Brown, “New Light From Arabia,” 88–90; S. Kent Brown, “New Light: Nahom and the ‘Eastward’ Turn,” Journal of Book of Mormon Studies 12/ 1 (2003): 111–12. 

  9. See Hugh Nibley, Lehi in the Desert/The World of the Jaredites/There Were Jaredites (Salt Lake City, Utah: Deseret Book and FARMS, 1988), 36; Hugh Nibley, An Approach to the Book of Mormon (Salt Lake City, Utah: Deseret Book and FARMS, 1988), 77. 

  10. Potter and Wellington, Lehi in the Wilderness, 59–61 make a strong argument as to why Lehi was probably not a caravaneer. 

  11. See John A. Tvedtnes, “Was Lehi a Caravaneer?,” in The Most Correct Book: Insights from a Book of Mormon Scholar (Springville, Utah: Horizon, 2003), 78–97; Jeffery R. Chadwick, “Lehi’s House at Jerusalem and the Land of his Inheritance,” in Glimpses of Lehi’s Jerusalem, ed. John W. Welch, David Rolph Seely, and Jo Ann H. Seely (Provo, Utah: FARMS, 2004), 113–17. Also see Gardner, Second Witness, 1:78–80. In Vogel’s defense, the Potter and Wellington critique was published in 2003, and Chadwick’s argument for Lehi as a metalworker was published in 2004, making it difficult for Vogel to have taken notice in time to include it in his own volume published in 2004. But Tvedtnes’s book was first published in 1999, and the relevant chapter has been available as a FARMS preliminary report since 1984. 

  12. Chadwick, “Lehi’s House,” 117. 

  13. Brown, “New Light from Arabia,” 83. Cf. Brown, Voices from the Dust, 32: “One should not think of a narrow roadway or single trail, for at points the inland trade route grew to be several miles wide, running between wells through valleys or across wide stretches of desert.” 

  14. Hilton and Hilton, “In Search of Lehi’s Trail,” 1:44: “We should note that the term trail is apt to be misleading. It does not refer to well-defined, relatively narrow paths or roadways, but to more general routes that follow through this valley, that canyon, etc. The width of the route varied with geography, ranging from a half mile to a dozen miles wide.” 

  15. Aston and Aston, In the Footsteps of Lehi, 4: “In most places the ‘trail’ actually was a general area rather than a specific, defined track, and it varied according to local politics, taxes, and so on.” It is worth noting that Vogel cites this source as he describes the association of nhm with Nahom, and as such should be aware of the ill-defined nature of the trail. See Vogel, Joseph Smith, 609 n. 17. 

  16. Potter and Wellington, Lehi in the Wilderness, 59. 

  17. If Khor Kharfot is Bountiful, as proposed by Warren P. Aston, “Arabian Bountiful Discovered? Evidence for Nephi’s Bountiful,” Journal of Book of Mormon Studies 7/1 (1998): 4–11, it would have been away from the main roads, and conceivably would have required some guidance from the Lord (via the Liahona) for Lehi and his family to find. 

  18. Ed J. Pinegar and Richard J. Allen, Commentaries and Insights on the Book of Mormon, 2 vol. (American Fork, Utah: Covenant Communication, 2007), 1:78. 

  19. Hilton and Hilton, “In Search of Lehi’s Trail,” 1:44. 

  20. Potter and Wellington, “Lehi’s Trail,” 28. 

  21. Brown, Voices From the Dust, 27. 

  22. Potter and Wellington, Lehi in the Wilderness, 53. 

  23. See Nibley, Lehi in the Desert, 63–64; Brown, “New Light from Arabia,” 92; Potter and Wellington, Lehi in the Wilderness, 118; Aston, “Across Arabia with Lehi and Sariah,” 12; S. Kent Brown, “Refining the Spotlight on Lehi and Sariah,” Journal of Book of Mormon Studies 15/2 (2006): 55. 

  24. Aston, “Across Arabia with Lehi and Sariah,” 12: “The Lord’s instruction not to ‘make much fire’ (1 Nephi 17:12) is highly significant. In well-traveled areas the making of fire would not have presented a problem, and perhaps the group needed to conserve fuel resources. They now ate their meat raw (see 17:2), probably spiced as many Arabs still do; camel’s milk would have helped them cope with reduced availability of water. All this paints a clear picture of survival in a region away from other people.” 

  25. Brown, “Refining the Spotlight on Lehi and Sariah,” 55: “The commandment that Nephi’s party not make fire also implies that the family was traveling through areas at least lightly peopled by others who were hostile (see 1 Nephi 17:12).” For a full discussion of the hostile tribal territories Lehi’s family would have traveled through on this leg of the journey, see S. Kent Brown, “A Case for Lehi’s Bondage in Arabia,” Journal of Book of Mormon Studies 6/2 (1997): 205–217. 

  26. Jeffrey R. Chadwick, “An Archaeologist’s View,” Journal of Book of Mormon Studies 15/2 (2006): 74. 

  27. This view has so frequently been articulated that is seems impossible that Vogel was unaware of it when he published his biography. See the following examples, most of which pre-date 2004: Nibley, Lehi in the Deseret, 79; Matthew Roper, Review of Mormonism: Shadow or Reality? By Jerald and Sandra Tanner, Review of Books on the Book of Mormon 4/1 (1992): 215 n.169; Aston, “Arabian Bountiful Discovered?,” 7; Brown, “The Place that Was Called Nahom,” 67; Aston, “Newly Found Altars from Nahom,” 60; Brown, “New Light from Arabia,” 81; Daniel C. Peterson, “Editor’s Introduction: Not So Easily Dismissed—Some Facts for Which Counterexplanations of the Book of Mormon Will Need to Account,” FARMS Review 17/2 (2005): xxvi; Aston, “Across Arabia with Lehi and Sariah,” 14; Boylan, “On Not Understanding the Book of Mormon,” 184. This list is far from comprehensive. 

  28. S. Kent Brown, “Jerusalem Connections to Arabia in 600 BC,” in Glimpses of Lehi’s Jerusalem, 641–42, n. 6; cf. Brown, “New Light from Arabia,” 99 n. 6. D&C 33:8 reads, “Open your mouths and they shall be filled, and you shall become even as Nephi of old, who journeyed from Jerusalem in the wilderness.” 

  29. While it is true that there is no explicit mention of interaction with others in the text of 1 Nephi, this shouldn’t come as too much of a surprise, as ordinary, unremarkable, and day-to-day occurrences are usually not mentioned when retelling a story unless they are crucial to the plot. If we were to tell you that we went on a road trip to California, would you assume that there was never anyone else on the road simply because we never talked about the other vehicles, or mentioned talking to anybody when we stopped for gas or food? Something so natural and inconsequential like this is so unimportant to the story that it is not at all inappropriate to simply assume that it would likely go unstated. If making a fire or interaction with other people was typical, then Nephi would have had no need to mention it. On the other hand, the command to make less fire and avoid contact (assuming that is the correct interpretation) would have marked a change in “typical” practice, and thus would have merited being mentioned (cf. 1 Nephi 17:12). Our thanks to Craig Foster for bringing this point to our attention. 

  30. See Aston and Aston, In the Footsteps of Lehi, 19–20; Aston, “Across Arabia,” 15. Aston could, of course, be wrong, but that would not be an indictment on the Book of Mormon itself, nor would it invalidate the otherwise harmonious data that suggests a correlation between Nahom and the Nihm tribal territory 

  31. Aston and Aston, In the Footsteps of Lehi, 19. 

  32. Joseph Modrzejewski, The Jews of Egypt: From Rameses II to Emperor Hadrian, trans. Robert Cornman (Philadelphia, Penn.: The Jewish Publication Society, 1995), 77–78, 91, 129–33. 

  33. Leonard Victor Rutgers, The Hidden Heritage of Diaspora Judaism (Leuven: Peeters, 1998), 82–91, esp. 88–89. 

  34. Pieter W. van der Horst, “Jewish Funerary Inscriptions—Most Are in Greek,” Biblical Archaeology Review 18/5 (September/October 1992): 46–57; Philip J. King and Lawrence E. Stager, Life in Biblical Israel (Louisville, Kentucky: Westminster John Knox Press, 2001), 369. 

  35. “Burial,” in Dictionary of Judaism in the Biblical Period, ed. Jacob Neusner (New York, N. Y.: Macmillan, 1996), 103. 

  36. “Burial,” in The New Encyclopedia of Judaism, ed. Geoffrey Widoger (New York, N. Y.: New York University Press, 1989), 143. 

  37. Burkhard Vogt, “Les temples de Ma’rib,” in Yémen: au pays de la reine de Saba (Paris: Flammarion, 1997), 144. Our thanks to Stephen D. Ricks for alerting us to this source and to Gregory L. Smith for the translation from the French. 

  38. Vogel, Joseph Smith, 609 n. 17, cites Brown’s 1999 article published in the Journal of Book of Mormon Studies, which discusses “an inscribed altar that [Vogt and his team] date to the seventh or sixth centuries B.C., generally the time of Lehi and his family.” (Brown, “The Place that Was Called Nahom,” 68.) It is informative that when mentioning the association of nhm with Nahom, Vogel appeals to Aston and Aston, In the Footsteps of Lehi, published before the altars were discovered (and which traces the name back to documents from about 600 ce. See Aston and Aston, In the Footsteps of Lehi, 17). Then, when first mentioning the altars, he cites Givens, By the Hand of Mormon, 120–21, where the dating of the altars is not provided. Since Vogel is aware of at least one source that includes the dating (Brown), it is hard not to conclude that this was a deliberate attempt to avoid sources that undermine his argument on the dating of nhm

  39. “Book of Mormon Linked to Site in Yemen,” Ensign (February 2001), 79; Aston, “Newly Found Altars from Nahom,” 56–61, 71, esp. 59–60; Brown, “New Light from Arabia,” 81–82; Brown, “Nahom and the ‘Eastward’ Turn,” 111–12, 120. Note that all of these were published before 2004. 

  40. Warren P. Aston, “A History of NaHoM,” BYU Studies Quarterly 51/2 (2012): 79–98. 

  41. Aston and Aston, In the Footsteps of Lehi, 16. 

  42. Aston, Aston, Welch, and Ricks, “Lehi’s Trail and Nahom Revisited,” in Reexploring the Book of Mormon, 48. 

  43. See Aston and Aston, In the Footsteps of Lehi, 80 n. 20. Cf. Aston, “A History of NaHoM,” 80: “In other languages, including English, the name is transliterated with vowels added. This results in variants such as Nehem, Nihm, Nahm and Nehm, but the consonants—and therefore the essential name—remain the same.” Vogel is evidently aware of this, as he writes, “Some Latter-day Saint writers have associated Nahom with nhm (variously Nehhm, Nehem, Nihm, Nahm) in southwestern Saudi Arabia, a remote place in the highlands of Yemen that has an ancient cemetery nearby.” (Vogel, Joseph Smith, 609 n. 17.) Given the diversity of possible translations, surely Vogel can figure out that Nahom is no less an acceptable translation than any other. 

  44. The phenomenon of fixing vowel points to the Hebrew of the books of the Old Testament was accomplished many centuries after the original composition of the texts. Hebrew inscriptions from the time of Nephi, such as those found etched on countless ostraca, lack any vowel points. See generally Dana M. Pike, “Israelite Inscriptions from the Time of Jeremiah and Lehi,” in Glimpses of Lehi’s Jerusalem, 193–244. 

  45. Brown, “Nahom and the ‘Eastward’ Turn,” 112. 

  46. Vogel, Joseph Smith, 609 n. 17, citing Brown, “The Place that Was Called Nahom,” 67. 

  47. Compare Brown’s comments here with Brown, “New Light from Arabia,” 81–83. Brown is not alone in making this argument. See Alan Goff, “Mourning, Consolation, and Repentance at Nahom,” in Rediscovering the Book of Mormon, ed. John L. Sorenson and Melvin J. Thorne (Provo, Utah: FARMS, 1991), 92–99. 

  48. F. Brown, S. Driver, and C. Briggs, The Brown–Driver–Briggs Hebrew and English Lexicon, rep. ed. (Peabody, Mass.: Hendrickson, 2010), s.v. נחם; See also Ludwig Koehler and Walter Baumgartner, The Hebrew and Aramaic Lexicon of the Old Testament (Leiden: E. J. Brill, 1995), s.v. נחם.  

  49. Vogel, Joseph Smith, 609 n. 17. Vogel personally has no training in Semitic languages, and bases this argument on a personal communication between him and David P. Wright of Brandeis University. 

  50. James Gee, “The Nahom Maps,” Journal of the Book of Mormon and Other Restoration Scripture 17/1–2 (2008): 40–57. 

  51. Thomas O. Lambdin, Introduction to Biblical Hebrew (Upper Saddle River, N. J.: Prentice Hall, 1971), xvi. 

  52. Patrick H. Alexander et al., ed., The SBL Handbook of Style (Peabody, Mass.: Hendrickson Publishers, 1999), 26. In some instances one can render the ḥêt with “ch” (such as in the word Chanukah/Hanukkah), but this is usually done in the transliteration of certain Hebrew words into Roman letters rather than rendering the English equivalent of the word itself. 

  53. Brown, “New Light from Arabia,” 113 n. 69. 

  54. Brown, “New Light from Arabia,” 82. Compare Brown’s remarks with Kevin Barney, “A More Responsible Critique,” FARMS Review 15/1 (2003): 131–32 n. 56; Ricks, “On Lehi’s Trail,” 67; Tvedtnes, “Names of People: Book of Mormon,” 787. Other critics have criticized the connection between Nahom and Nehem on the grounds that the vowels in the two names are different. On this accusation, see Matthew Roper, “Unanswered Mormon Scholars,” FARMS Review of Books 9/1 (1997): 117. 

  55. Ricks, “On Lehi’s Trail,” 67, brackets added. Also see the online article by John A. Tvedtnes, “The Language of the Book of Mormon,” at Book of Mormon Research, http://bookofmormonresearch.org/book of_mormon_articles/book_of_mormon_4 (accessed November 12, 2013). 

  56. See Scott B. Noegel, ed., Puns and Pundits: Word Play in the Hebrew Bible and Ancient Near Eastern Literature (Bethesda, Maryland: CDL Press, 2000) in general, but especially the chapter by Gary A. Rendsburg, “Word Play in Biblical Hebrew: An Eclectic Collection,” 137–62. For further reading on the topic, consult Scott B. Noegel, “Bibliography on ‘Wordplay’ in the Hebrew Bible and Other Ancient Near Eastern Texts,” 42-pages, online at http://faculty.washington.edu/snoegel/Wordplay-Bibliography.pdf (accessed November 10, 2013). 

  57. Alan Gardiner, Egyptian Grammar, rep. ed. (Oxford: Griffith Institute, 2007), 581; Raymond O. Faulkner, A Concise Dictionary of Middle Egyptian (Oxford: Griffith Institute, 1962), 169. Lest there is any confusion by the reader, it should be remembered that the dotted h () uniliteral in Egyptian is not vocalized the same as the letter ḥêt in Hebrew. In Egyptian ḥ is vocalized as a soft or aspirated h. There are two other h uniliterals in Egyptian that are vocalized like the Hebrew ḥêt, but they are transliterated as “ḫ” and “ẖ.” See James P. Allen, Middle Egyptian: An Introduction to the Language and Culture of Hieroglyphs, 2nd ed. (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2010), 14–15, 19. 

  58. Rendsburg, “Word Play in Biblical Hebrew,” 143. 

  59. This name, according to Rendsburg, is meant to make a play on the root knʿ, “be low, be humble, be subdued.” See Rendsburg, “Word Play in Biblical Hebrew,” 144. See also Brown, Driver, and Briggs, The Brown–Driver–Briggs Hebrew and English Lexicon, s.v. כנע. 

  60. See Rendsburg, “Word Play in Biblical Hebrew,” 143–45 for the full discussion of this wordplay. 

  61. Rendsburg, “Word Play in Biblical Hebrew,” 144–45, also see pp. 149–50. 

  62. Vogel, Joseph Smith, 609 n. 17. 

  63. See Aston, “A History of NaHoM,” 85–87. 

  64. See Aston and Aston, In the Footsteps of Lehi, 19–20. 

  65. See Brown, “Nahom and the ‘Eastward’ Turn,” 111–12. 

  66. See Aston, “Arabian Bountiful Discovered?” 4–11. In arguing for a different location for Bountiful, Potter and Wellington, Lehi in the Wilderness, 124–34 provide a similar set of 12 criteria. Wm. Revell Phillips, “Mughsayl: Another Candidate for Land Bountiful,” Journal of Book of Mormon Studies 16/2 (2007): 48–59 argues for yet another candidate, using Aston’s same 12 criteria. Warren P. Aston, “Identifying Our Best Candidate for Nephi’s Bountiful,” Journal of Book of Mormon and Restoration Scripture 17/1–2 (2008): 58–64 evaluates all three proposals and argues that Khor Kharfot, his own candidate, is the best fit. We tend to agree with Aston, but, regardless, all three are “nearly eastward” from Nihm. Having more than one specific location within a generally “bountiful” region that is east of Nihm that adequately fit the text is certainly not a problem for the Book of Mormon, though it may be difficult for a minimalist like Vogel to explain. 

  67. Comment posted to an Internet discussion board on December 7, 2006; quoted in Michael R. Ash, Shaken Faith Syndrome: Strengthening One’s Testimony in the Face of Criticism and Doubt, 2nd ed. (Redding, Calif: Foundation for Apologetic Information and Research, 2013), 84. 

  68. For this attempted explanation, see the argument under the heading “Early References to nhm” in the online article “Nahom,” at MormonThink, http://mormonthink.com/book-of-mormon-problems.htm#nhm (accessed November 10, 2013), screenshot in possession of one of the authors. 

  69. “Early Refences to nhm,” emphasis in original. 

  70. “Early Refences to nhm.” 

  71. See Brandon S. Plewe, ed., Mapping Mormonism: An Atlas of Latter-day Saint History (Provo, Utah: BYU Press, 2012), 21. 

  72. Distance estimates derived using Google Maps and exploring alternate routes. Though available roads/routes in the 19th century may not have been the same, it is unlikely the distances were substantially different. 

  73. See Aston, “A History of NaHoM,” 93. 

  74. See Brown, “Nahom and the ‘Eastward’ Turn,” 112; Brown, “New Light from Arabia,” 73, 89. 

  75. See Aston, “A History of NaHoM,” 90. 

  76. See the argument made in bullet 4, under the heading “Critic’s Answer #1 – Interpreting the evidence,” in the Online article “Nahom,” at MormonThink, http://mormonthink.com/book-of-mormon-problems.htm#nhm (accessed November 10, 2013), screenshot in possession of one of the authors. 

  77. Ross T. Christensen, “The Place Called Nahom,” Ensign (August 1978): 73. 

  78. See Warren P. Aston, “Some Notes on the Tribal Origins of nhm,” paper presented at the Seminar for Arabian Studies, July 22, 1995, held at Cambridge University. 

  79. See Aston and Aston, In the Footsteps of Lehi, 12; Aston, “A History of NaHoM,” 80. Only Potter and Wellington, Lehi in the Wilderness, 112–13; cf. Potter and Wellington, “Lehi’s Trail,” 32 say that there are multiple places called nhm and they identify a mountain, a valley, a hill, and they even differentiate between the cemetery and the Nihm region. But, these are all in the same general area, and as Aston, “Identifying Our Best Candidate for Nephi’s Bountiful,” 59, 63 n. 2 points out, “it is a mistake to conclude that there are separate places called nhm. They are all simply features of one tribal area–only one south Arabian location has the name nhm.” In a footnote, Aston adds, “The bottom line, however, is that the name nhm is found only once in southern Arabia, even though a mountain, a valley, and a hill within the area also have nhm in their name, formal or otherwise. The site of Provo offers a useful analogy: even though people speak of Provo Canyon, the Provo River, Provo city, and the Provo cemetery, for example, there is still only one place called Provo, not several.” 

  80. Chris Johnson, “How the Book of Mormon Destroyed Mormonism,” paper presented at Life After Mormonism: 2013 Ex-Mormon Foundation Conference, held October 19, 2013; online video at http://buggingmos.wordpress.com/2013/10/25/chris-johnson-how-the-book-of-mormon-destroyed-mormonism/ (accessed December 27, 2013); comments on Nahom at apprx. 6:53–8:05 in the video. For a response to the main point of Johnson’s presentation, see Benjamin L. McGuire, “The Late War Against the Book of Mormon,” Interpreter: A Journal of Mormon Scripture 7 (2013): 323–55, https://www.mormoninterpreter.com/the-late-war-against-the-book-of-mormon/ (accessed December 27, 2013). 

  81. Johnson, “How the Book of Mormon Destroyed Mormonism,” based on the transcript done by Jeff Lindsay, “The Significance of Nahom: Just Three Letters?” Mormanity: A Mormon Blog, but not just for Mormons, December 12, 2013 at http://mormanity.blogspot.com/2013/12/the-significance-of-nahom-just-three.html (accessed December 27, 2013); punctuation slightly altered, and ellipses represents our omission of material. 

  82. See all Book of Mormon names in “Name Index,” Book of Mormon Onomasticon, https://onoma.lib.byu.edu/onoma/index.php/Name_Index, accessed December 27, 2013. No other name has the consonants nhm in that order and/or without other consonants. 

  83. Many of the nhm‘s Johnson has found can’t even be confidently traced back to Joseph Smith’s time, let alone Lehi’s. See Jeff Lindsay, “Noham, That’s Not History (Nor Geography, Cartography, or Logic): More on the Recent Attacks on nhm,” Mormanity: A Mormon Blog, but not just for Mormons, December 21, 2013, at http://mormanity.blogspot.com/2013/12/noham-thats-not-history-nor-geography.html (accessed December 27, 2013); cross-posted to the FairMormon Blog, December 23, 2013, at http://www.fairblog.org/2013/12/23/noham-thats-not-history-nor-geography-cartography-or-logic-more-on-the-recent-attacks-on-nhm/ (accessed December 27, 2013). 

  84. We have silently borrowed some verbiage, and this overall point, from a personal communication from S. Hales Swift to one of the authors, December 28, 2013. We appreciate his help in formulating our arguments on this point. 

  85. Gardner, Second Witness, 1:289. 

“Until the Heart Betrays”: Life, Letters, and the Stories We Tell

Review of Adam S. Miller. Letters to a Young Mormon. Provo, Utah: Neal A. Maxwell Institute for Religious Scholarship, 2014. 78 pp. $9.95.

On their 1993 album Edge of Thorns, hard rock group Savatage included a piano ballad about a person and a letter:

Someone got themselves a letter,
in the mail the other day
It’s already worn and tattered,
and I guess it gives away
All the things we keep inside,
all the things that really matter
The face puts on its best disguise,
and all is well … until the heart betrays1

Adam S. Miller’s new book is composed of a series of “letters” which, like the one in the song, contain both “the things we [tend to] keep inside,” and “the things that really matter.” Like the song, Miller talks about the disguises we wear—though he calls them our “stories,” which is his way of labeling self-justifications or self-deceptions for our deeds and hence way of living. And he talks about how our hearts should “betray” our [Page 148]rationalizing stories and turn to God, who sees us and loves us for what we can be or who we potentially are all along.

“Like everyone,” he writes to his young friend, “you have a story you want your life to tell” (p. 17). This “story” becomes a self-imposed standard we feel we must live up to, and as such it haunts us. “This narration follows you around like a shadow. It mimes you, measures you, sometimes mocks you, and pretends, in its flat, black simplicity, to be the truth about you” (p. 18). We tend to think, or at least we try to convince ourselves, that this is the same story everyone else sees us living. As such, we often live in fear of what happens when we fail to live up to this “story” we have fashioned. Miller talks about how we may even give God “a starring role” as the one who can make our story come true, “with some cajoling and obedience” on our part (p. 19).

Of course, life isn’t a story, and so we naturally fail to measure up. When this happens, unhealthy guilt and shame try to force us into making life fit the story anyway; we rationalize, justify, and engage in self-deception. Miller tells us that with God it is different: “As the heavens are higher than the earth, God’s work in your life is bigger than the story you’d like that life to tell” (p. 17). Miller lectures his young and troubled Mormon in the following way:

Jesus is not asking you to tell a better story or live your story more successfully, he’s asking you to lose that story. “Those who find their life will lose it, and those who lose their life for my sake will find it” (Matthew 10:39 nrsv). Hell is when your story succeeds, not when it fails. Your suffocating story is the problem, not the solution. Surrender it and find your life. Your story is heavy and hard to bear. “Come to me,” Jesus says, “all you that are weary and are carrying heavy burdens, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon [Page 149]you, and learn from me; for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light” (Matthew 11:28–30 nrsv). Put down the millstone of your story and take up the yoke of life instead… . Let his life manifest itself in yours rather than trying to impose your story on the life he gives. (p. 21.)

But how do we abandon our deceptive, rationalizing stories, including our visions of grandeur or our narratives of self-deprecation, and let God into our lives? This is a question that Miller never explicitly asks, but it seems to me it is one constantly being probed throughout the book, which consists of chapters on faith (pp. 25-29), scripture (pp. 31-35), prayer (pp. 37-41), history (pp. 43-49), science (pp. 51-56) and so on—all of which explore in some way or other how to stay true to the life and work God has for us rather than fabricate and then capitulate to the stories we try to impose upon ourselves.

One story that can be told—we can tell it to ourselves, or others may try to convince us of it—pits science and religion against each other. But Miller urges young Latter-day Saints to embrace what is found in the sciences as “revelations.” He suggests that they “are among the most commanding God has ever given” (pp. 55-56).2

Miller holds that another false story we tell ourselves might be that the Mormon past is filled with heroes of epic proportion, veritable giants among men, “quasi-angels” (p. 46) who did no wrong and always accomplished great things with an eye single [Page 150]to the glory of God. As with the story we might tell about our own lives, this is a story that eventually fails, and when it does it can generate a crisis. But also like the stories we tell about our lives, God’s work is bigger than these stories. Miller argues that

It’s a false dilemma to claim that either God works through practically flawless people or God doesn’t work at all. The gospel isn’t a celebration of God’s power to work with flawless people. The gospel is a celebration of God’s willingness to work today, in our world, in our lives, with people who clearly aren’t [flawless?]. To demand that church leaders, past and present, show us only a mask of angelic pseudo-perfection is to deny the gospel’s most basic claim: that God’s grace works through our weakness. We need prophets, not idols. (p. 47, brackets mine.)

Miller argues that if we are going to reject the stories we and others tell about ourselves and about the world, we are going to need to know something of the stories God has told us about ourselves and his relationship to us. Here Miller believes our scriptures come in. How can this happen? Careful study of our scriptures makes it possible for us to “put down our stories and take up theirs” (p. 32). Miller urges his young correspondent to “Get close to the scriptures.… God is in there” (p. 31). Our scriptures tell us about such things as the restoration and the revelation of new scripture. As Miller explains it, Joseph Smith “always expected more revelations, and ‘translation’ was one vital name for the hard work of receiving them” (p. 32). But “translation” for Miller is not merely the task of the prophet or scholar, nor is it merely the transferring of the text from one language to another. Translation for Miller is “a way, day by day, of holding life open for God’s word” (p. 32), which is his way of adopting and modifying the metaphor used by Joseph Smith to identify the process of reading and interpreting what [Page 151]we have read in ways most applicable to our lives, and as such it is pictured as a crucial task for everyone. Miller can be read as saying that we must make our own stories match the stories found in our scriptures. He argues that

Joseph produced, as God required, the first public translations of the scriptures we now share. But that work, open-ended all along, is unfinished. Now the task is ours. When you read the scriptures, don’t just lay your eyes like stones on the pages. Roll up your sleeves and translate them again.… Word by word, line by line, verse by verse, chapter by chapter, God wants the whole thing translated once more, and this time he wants it translated into your native tongue, inflected by your native concerns, and written in your native flesh. (pp. 32–33.)

Miller’s “translation” is something like Nephi’s “likening” (see 1 Nephi 19:23; 2 Nephi 6:5; 11:8). In this sense it involves, among other things, prayer, study, meditation, and also consultation of the “best books.” These are all part of what is necessary to successfully re-translate the scriptures by making them the ground for our own stories. It is something that will require faith. “You’ll have to trust that the books can withstand your scrutiny and you’ll have to trust that God, despite their antiquity, can be contemporary in them” (p. 34). What Miller means by “faith” is to “practice faithfully attending to the difficult, disturbing, and resistant truths God sets knocking at your door” (p. 27) and to trust “that the life God offers you doesn’t need your stories to dress it up,” hence “trust God enough to let your stories die” (p. 25).

Miller explains that like all translation, this will not be an easy task. It will take work, and drawing on D&C 88:118, he stresses the importance of using the “best books” to help us in our efforts to believe, understand, and thereby be able to [Page 152]“translate” the scriptures anew so that we have the life offered by God. He tells his young Mormon that

Your ability to translate with power will depend on your faith and it will be amplified by your familiarity with the world’s best books… . The more familiar you are with Israelite histories, Near Eastern [and also, I believe, Mesoamerican] archaeologies, and secular biblical scholarship, the richer your translations will be rendered. Don’t be afraid of scripture, and don’t be afraid of these other books.… Doubtless, the world’s best books have their flaws, but this just means that they too must be translated. You’ll need to translate them so that they can contribute to your own translations. (p. 34, brackets mine)

But in this process, there are inherent dangers: how can we be sure that when we “translate” the scriptures; we don’t read our false, rationalizing story into them? How can we be sure we are not fooling ourselves, or soothing our consciences by making the scriptures say what we want them to say? Miller answers:

You’ll know you’ve done it right if, as a result of the work, you repent. “Say nothing but repentance unto this generation,” the Lord told Oliver Cowdery when he came to help Joseph translate the Book of Mormon (D&C 6:9). This is your charge too: translate nothing but repentance. When you’re reading them right, the scriptures will bring you up short. They’ll call you into question. They’ll challenge your stories and deflate your pretensions. They’ll show you how you’ve been wrong, and they’ll show you how to make things right (pp. 33–34).

[Page 153]The proper scripture study will not reinforce the old self-deceptive stories you have been telling. Instead, it will assist you to “lay down your stories and, minute by minute, day by day, give your life back to him,” i.e., God (pp. 17–18).

Miller’s book is not perfect. The chapter on “hunger,” for example (pp. 57–60), is confusing. He works with clever metaphors, but sometimes they are unclear. He carries his “hunger” metaphor over into the chapter on sex (pp. 61–66), creating some ambiguity where most parents of “young Mormons” would insist that blunt clarity is preferable. For parents who have open and frank discussions with their adolescent children, such ambiguity is easily remedied, but books like Miller’s cannot do the talking for them. Nonetheless, concerned parents may want to find a different book to help them deal with this particular issue.

Another point where the ambiguity is a concern is the chapter on eternal life (pp. 73–78). Whereas I liked the idea that eternal life is “a certain way of being alive” (p. 75), it is never clear in the chapter if Miller genuinely believes in a life after death. While this may not be a concern for most readers, for any “young Mormon” struggling to believe, the lack of explicit reaffirmation in a hereafter could be disconcerting.

A recent press release from the Maxwell Institute indicates that a new Living Faith series, of which this is the initial book, “will commend and defend the faith more explicitly than our other [current Maxwell Institute] publications, while still maintaining the highest academic standards.”3 Defending the faith is an admirable aim, part of our temple covenants, and something our leaders have admonished us to do. We sometimes call doing this “apologetics,” and Miller’s little book can be read as his effort to do such.

[Page 154]At the beginning of the first “letter,” he makes a straightforward declaration: “I don’t know” (p. 9). Presumably, young S., as Miller refers to his hypothetical correspondent, has asked him some tough questions. Miller then makes an important point: “But it’s also true that even if I knew what to say and how to say it, you’d still have to work out the answers yourself” (p. 9). In defending the faith, we often provide answers to questions that are frankly quite peripheral and tangential to the gospel of Jesus Christ. This is not to suggest that scholars should cease seeking to provide answers to all the tough questions people are bound to ask—such endeavors are both necessary and important. In so doing, however, we are generally treating symptoms, not the problem itself. But what more can we do? A Latter-day Saint must come to his or her own faith. Miller indicates that the working out of answers is ultimately a personal journey, and only the individual (along with God) can do it. The well-worked-out answers of others can be valuable aids in that process, which justifies Miller’s effort to provide a little guidance to the “working out” process. Others, such as Mike Ash,4 have provided some guidance for this often difficult process of sorting out issues that arise, and Miller’s book makes an excellent addition to such tools and resources.

Overall, Miller’s book is quite good; it is an easy, subtle, and enjoyable read, which is ideal for a book targeting youth. Miller is also very articulate; some passages are quite quotable. For those interested, it could provide good fodder for sacrament meeting talks, devotional addresses, Family Home Evening lessons, and so on.

The letters in this book do not, of course, contain “all the things that really matter,” but those who want a little extra [Page 155]guidance (which can be all of us, at times) may find their copy “already worn and tattered” as they frequently read and reflect on Miller’s words while they endeavor to figure out, with God’s help, “what it means to live in a way that refuses to abandon either life or Mormonism” (unnumbered page in front matter, would be p. 7, emphasis added).


  1. Savatage, “All That I Bleed,” Edge of Thorns (New York: Atlantic Records, 1993), track 10—ellipses included to represent the dramatic pause in the song, not the omission of material. 

  2. Certainly Latter-day Saints struggle with the current findings of several sciences. The Interpreter Foundation’s recent symposium on Science and Mormonism: Cosmos, Earth, and Man, held on November 9, 2013 in Provo, Utah, provided answers to those who feel a need to see a harmony between faith and scientific endeavors. The proceedings of this conference are being prepared for publication. The videos are available online at http://www.mormoninterpreter.com/events/2013-symposium-science-mormonism-cosmos-earth-man/conference-videos/ (accessed January 3, 2014). 

  3. “Announcing the ‘Living Faith’ book series,” Maxwell Institute Blog, January 3, 2014, http://maxwellinstitute.byu.edu/living-faith-books/ (accessed January 3, 2014), brackets mine. 

  4. Michael R. Ash, Shaken Faith Syndrome: Strengthening One’s Testimony in the Face of Criticism and Doubt, 2nd edition (Redding, CA: FAIRMormon, 2013). Part 1 offers useful guidance for navigating a faith crisis, while Part 2 then provides some answers to difficult issues. 

Help for the Troubled “Young Mormon”

Review of Adam S. Miller, Letters to a Young Mormon. Provo, Utah: Neal A. Maxwell Institute for Religious Scholarship, 2014. 78 pp. $9.95.

Adam S. Miller has recently made a name for himself in Mormon intellectual circles by publishing a number of books in theology and philosophy.1 Miller, who holds a PhD in philosophy from Villanova University and is currently a professor of philosophy at Collin College in McKinney, Texas, adds to his list of publications with a new book published by the Neal A. Maxwell Institute for Religious Scholarship. This new book, Letters to a Young Mormon,2 is a short volume of some 80 pages that includes Miller’s ruminations on the following topics: agency (9-12),3 work (13-16), sin (17-23), faith (25-29), scripture (31-35), prayer (37-41), history (43-49), science (51-56), hunger (57-60), sex (61-66), temples (67-71), and eternal life (73-78).

[Page 140]The book itself is something of an oddity. It consists of a series of letters—each just a few pages long—from Miller (“A.”) and his anonymous, hypothetical (and presumably troubled) young Mormon correspondent (“S.”). What makes the book an oddity is that it seems to be an attempt to synthesize a number of different stylistic approaches. It is part homily, part personal/anecdotal reflection, part theological exposition, part philosophical expounding, and part practical advice. Because Miller is writing to “a young Mormon” (I like to imagine Miller writing to a young Mormon either about to leave on or just returning from his or her mission), the book never becomes a scholarly treatise on any of the subjects being addressed. Although it isn’t thoroughly scholarly, Letters to a Young Mormon is also not the sort of ubiquitous, fluffy, and often vacuous “self help” book that is all too common in American (including Mormon) bookstores. The book strikes a good balance. It is engaging and intellectually stimulating but not overwhelming. As such, it performs well what it sets out to accomplish.

Although there are many parts of Letters to a Young Mormon that I considered discussing in this review (as there are many parts of the book that I enjoyed), I shall focus my attention on just two topics. Miller’s views on the importance of science and how scientific knowledge converges with the scriptures (51-56) are refreshingly pragmatic and inviting. Miller does not hash out the finer points of this or that scientific theory and how it may converge with the scriptures but rather expresses his positive attitude toward both spiritual and scientific routes to knowledge while encouraging S. to be open-minded about the marvelous things science has revealed. “God is prying open our eyes and ears,” Miller writes to S. after listing many truly remarkable scientific wonders. “Who has ears to hear it? God speaks both scripture and science. Listen for his voice” (52). [Page 141]Miller thus understands science as one of God’s ways of communicating with us.

As with scriptural knowledge, Miller believes that God imparts scientific knowledge according to our capacity and willingness to receive it. “As a rule,” Miller writes as he cites Doctrine and Covenants 1:24, “God works with whatever small knowledge we’ve already got” (52). Miller offers Genesis 1 and ancient Israelite cosmology as an example.

The Hebrews, as was common for their time and place, thought that the world was basically a giant snow globe. When God wanted to reveal his hand in the creation of their world, he borrowed and repurposed the common-sense cosmology they already had. He wasn’t worried about its inaccuracies, he was worried about showing his hand at work in shaping their world as they knew it. (53, emphasis in original.)

Miller’s view of the creation account in Genesis actually accords very nicely with what other Mormon and non-Mormon scriptural commentators have said on the topic. For example, in 1931 Elder James E. Talmage implored Latter-day Saints to “not try to wrest the scriptures in an attempt to explain away what we can not explain. The opening chapters of Genesis, and scriptures related thereto, were never intended as a text-book of geology, archaeology, earth-science or man-science.… We do not show reverence for the scriptures when we misapply them through faulty interpretation.”4

More recently the evangelical biblical scholar John H. Walton has written two books on biblical cosmology that convincingly argue that modern readers should not expect [Page 142]Israelite cosmology to fully accord with modern scientific cosmology, as biblical cosmology is not primarily concerned with reporting a scientific understanding of the universe.5 This is not to say, Miller notes, that the biblical depiction of creation is a worthless Iron Age fable, but rather to stress that a better understanding of Genesis 1—including an understanding that doesn’t myopically focus on how to smash square pegs into round holes by attempting to (awkwardly) force Genesis 1 to accord with modern science—may help us better discern the spiritual truths being conveyed in the text.6

The world given to us is not the world given to [the ancient Israelites]. We have two worlds here. But though our worlds diverge, it is the same God peeping through. Believing that the God of their world is just as surely the God of ours doesn’t commit us to believing in their version of the world. Rather, it commits us to believing in a God whose grace is full enough to fill them both. (54)

Similarly, Miller’s thoughts on the importance of history (43-49) were also some of my favorite. As a student of history myself, I read with great interest Miller’s attempt to instill S. with a sense of the importance of knowing our immediate and distant past. Miller’s chapter on history has two main points that are both insightful and timely. First, Miller urges S. not to slip into the “false comfort in consoling ourselves with the idea that, while our days are evil, the world was once good” (46). Using Nephi’s lament over the wickedness of his own day, and his desire to go back to the “good old days” of his forefathers [Page 143](Helaman 7), Miller admonishes S. that such “modest comfort slips easily into excuse or recrimination” (46). We should not, in other words, romanticize the past.

Nor should we try to cover up the imperfections and flaws of our historic heroes, which brings us to Miller’s second point in this chapter. The admonition to be honest about history, according to Miller, “applies to our own church history as much as it does to stories from places long ago and far away” (47).

It’s a false dilemma to claim that either God works through practically flawless people or God doesn’t work at all. The gospel isn’t a celebration of God’s power to work with flawless people. The gospel is a celebration of God’s willingness to work today, in our world, in our lives, with people who clearly aren’t. To demand that church leaders, past and present, show us only a mask of angelic pseudo-perfection is to deny the gospel’s most basic claim: that God’s grace works through our weakness. We need prophets, not idols. (47)

I say this approach to history (especially to our own LDS history) is timely because of President Dieter F. Uchtdorf’s recent remarks during the October 2013 General Conference of the Church. President Uchtdorf commented, “To be perfectly frank, there have been times when members or leaders in the Church have simply made mistakes. There may have been things said or done that were not in harmony with our values, principles, or doctrine.” President Uchtdorf then explained, “I suppose the Church would be perfect only if it were run by perfect beings. God is perfect, and His doctrine is pure. But He works through us—His imperfect children—and imperfect people make mistakes.”7

[Page 144]Not to belabor the point, but the Church’s recent series of articles addressing sensitive issues related to Mormon history is likewise good indication that Miller’s thoughts on how to tactfully and productively engage our history, especially the controversial aspects of our history, should be welcomed by members of the Church.8 I believe this is especially true for younger members of the Church (like Miller’s young correspondent) who are widely exposed on the Internet to information (of varying degrees of quality, mind you) about the Church’s history.

Although I think Miller had many insightful things to say in Letters to a Young Mormon, there are a few things that Miller says in his book that left me confused. For example, his chapter on sex (an obviously very personal and touchy subject), while frank and mature, is somewhat confusing.

Listen, practice prayer, and let your hunger teach you. When you are alone and feel, as you often will, a growing hunger for sex, don’t always run away. Don’t automatically distract yourself from it or automatically lose yourself in it. Rather, try doing the one thing we’re often most afraid to do: pay direct attention to the hunger itself. Just watch. Acknowledge the hunger’s weight, autonomy, and reality. Notice that there is a difference between the images, fears, and fantasies that [Page 145]fuel the hunger and the physical sensations proper to the hunger itself.… Don’t pour fuel on the fire by entertaining your fantasies, but don’t try to put out the fire either. Just watch the flames as they burn, on their own, back down to coals. (65)

What, I wonder, is the average young, hormonal, teenage Mormon to make of this counsel? It is certainly well articulated and thoughtful but also terribly vague. At least it is to me. What does Miller mean by “just watch.… don’t pour fuel on the fire by entertaining your fantasies, but don’t try to put out the fire either”? Does he mean do not act on sexual impulses but neither pretend they do not exist, as doing so can easily lead to unhealthy behavior? If so, I think this is wise counsel, but the way Miller says it here is confusing.

The other instance of something that I thought was confusing is in Miller’s chapter on science. Drawing an analogy between unearthing the truths of human biological history and Mormon history, Miller speaks of the “hard and often uncomfortable work” of “own[ing] up to the prickly aspects of our history,” including “seer stones, racism, and polygamy” (55). Does Miller think that Joseph Smith’s use of a seer stone in the translation of the Book of Mormon and the early Mormon practice of plural marriage is comparably as unfortunate as the regrettable racism of past Church members? Or does he think that we need to “own” these aspects of our history in the sense that they are facts we shouldn’t ignore? Miller says that “we can’t afford to play games whitewashing Brigham Young” (55). I agree with this sentiment and hope that this is what Miller meant, but again, he isn’t very clear.

But these two examples of problematic aspects of Letters to a Young Mormon do not drastically detract from the overall quality of Miller’s book. I would recommend Letters to a Young Mormon to any young Latter-day Saint who is interested in a thoughtful and engaging monologue on Mormon life and belief.[Page 146]

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  1. See Adam S. Miller, Badiou, Marion and St Paul: Immanent Grace (New York, NY: Continuum, 2008); Rube Goldberg Machines: Essays in Mormon Theology (Salt Lake City, Utah: Greg Kofford Books, 2012); Speculative Grace: Bruno Latour and Object-Oriented Theology (New York, NY: Fordham University Press, 2013). For a review of Miller’s work on Mormon theology, see Robert F. Smith, ”Adam Miller’s New Hermeneutic?” Interpreter: A Journal of Mormon Scripture 6 (2013): 1-7. 

  2. Adam S. Miller, Letters to a Young Mormon (Provo, Utah: Neal A. Maxwell Institute for Religious Scholarship, 2014). 

  3. All of the in-text page citations are from Letters to a Young Mormon

  4. James E. Talmage, ”The Earth and Man,” address delivered in the Tabernacle, Salt Lake City, Utah, 9 August 1931. Originally published in the Deseret News, Church Section, 21 November 1931, 7–8. My thanks to Mike Parker for alerting me to this source. 

  5. John H. Walton, The Lost World of Genesis One: Ancient Cosmology and the Origins Debate (Downers Groves, Ill.: IVP Academic, 2009); Genesis 1 As Ancient Cosmology (Winona Lake, Indiana: Eisenbrauns, 2011). 

  6. Compare my comments here with John S. Lewis, ”The Scale of Creation in Space and Time,” Interpreter: A Journal of Mormon Scripture 8 (2014): 71–80. 

  7. Dieter F. Uchtdorf, ”Come, Join With Us,” Ensign (November 2013), 22. Incidentally, lest there be any unnecessary hype, this is not the first time a General Authority has expressed this sentiment. See the comments assembled by Gregory L. Smith, ”Prophets and fallibility,” online at http://seesangelsinthearchitecture.wordpress.com/2013/10/12/prophets-and-fallibility/ (accessed January 2, 2014). 

  8. See ”First Vision Accounts,” online at https://churchofjesuschrist.org/topics/first-vision-accounts?lang=eng (accessed January 2, 2014); ”Race and the Priesthood,” online at https://churchofjesuschrist.org/topics/race-and-the-priesthood?lang=eng (accessed January 2, 2014); ”Are Mormons Christian?” online at https://churchofjesuschrist.org/topics/christians?lang=eng (accessed January 2, 2014); ”Plural Marriage and Families in Early Utah,” online at https://churchofjesuschrist.org/topics/plural-marriage-and-families-in-early-utah?lang=eng (accessed January 2, 2014); ”Book of Mormon Translation,” online at https://churchofjesuschrist.org/topics/book-of-mormon-translation?lang=eng (accessed January 2, 2014). 

Hagar in LDS Scripture and Thought

Abstract: LDS discourse vis-à-vis Hagar has changed through the years since the foundation of the Church. Her story has been considered and utilized in a number of ways, the most prominent being as a defense of plural marriage. This paper traces the LDS usages of Hagar’s story as well as proposing a new allegorical interpretation of her place within the Abrahamic drama through literary connections in the Hebrew Bible combined with Restoration scripture.

The scriptures tell the stories of many men and women throughout history that are meant to give us guidance and direction, to help us better understand our relationship to God. Ecclesiastical leaders of the past and the present have asked and continually ask us to read the scriptures daily, and the Savior has even commanded us to search them diligently.1 In turn, then, we are meant to find meaning in the scriptures that, conveyed to us via the Holy Ghost, is supposed to give us greater hope, knowledge, and understanding of the mercy of God and His eternal plan for his children as well as gaining greater knowledge and testimony of the Savior.

How we, as humans seeking the divine, use and approach scripture and the human characters found therein is of utmost [Page 88]importance in this sense. The figure of Hagar in the Abrahamic scriptural traditions (Judaism, Christianity, and Islam) is one human character who stands as a common thread between those religious approaches. However, the views of Hagar and how she is read and used by those respective religious communities is vastly different. While her story is largely similar, interpretation of her position varies exceedingly. Her position as the second wife of Abraham assures her a preeminent position in religious historiography.

In Judaism and Christianity, she is largely eclipsed by the preeminence given to Sarah and the inheritance due to Isaac, as the firstborn of the first wife. Within Judaism, she is generally set aside in exegetical works and largely disappears within the shadow of Sarah, becoming, as one academic put it, superficially seen as a “throw-away character.”2 Yet in some later Jewish traditions, Hagar is said to have later fully converted to the covenant religion of Abraham, and taken a new name, Keturah (which most consider to be Abraham’s third wife), and is reunited with Abraham after Sarah’s death.3

In the broader Christian context, Hagar’s position is largely seen only through the lens of Paul’s usage of her and Sarah, as the wives of Abraham, as metaphors for bondage and freedom, symbolizing servitude to the former, Mosaic Law, and the freedom from law found in Christ. In that context, Hagar’s position, while perhaps being seen historically as righteous, is still viewed as lesser. This downplay of her position within the spiritual drama that was Abraham’s life removes her from [Page 89]any type of primary role. Potentially, it could even be said to portray her pejoratively. In modern times, feminist and black Christian interpretations have contributed to a resurgence in respect and analysis of her character and position within the Abrahamic drama, being seen as strength in the face of patriarchal/cultural oppressiveness and a rallying cry for the redemption and salvation of slaves, respectively.4

Within Islam, though, the tradition remains that while she was removed from Abraham’s immediate vicinity at the behest of his first wife Sarah, her role was not diminished. Indeed, the claim can be made that within Islamic discourse, the tables are turned opposite of Judaism, and Hagar is she who is lifted up, while Sarah diminishes within her shadow. Hagar is established as a (if not the) Mother of the monotheistic community, her story figures prominently in the annual Hajj ceremony, and her efforts and experience with Abraham are held up as an intentional and integral part of God’s divine plan for mankind.5 To be sure, there is a measure of identity construction at hand here, with those drawing their lines back to Abraham (whether Christian, Jewish, or Muslim) privileging their own line of descent. Similarly, boundary maintenance between the communities is reinforced as Muslims identify themselves with someone downplayed by the Christians as a means of firm differentiation and vice versa.

[Page 90]In all of these traditions, it is important to note that Hagar never stands on her own. She is generally viewed as one of the characters defined largely by their positions vis-à-vis the “main characters” of the narrative; they are those “whose histories have little or no intrinsic significance. They appear briefly to provide conflict, present a negative model, or simply to move the narrative forward.”6 Hagar is always viewed and analyzed in light of her relationship with someone else: Abraham, Sarah, or her son, Ishmael. While the text of the Bible may predispose us to this type of analytical pairing, it is odd and potentially intentionally ironic that this is the case with a woman whose main stories in the biblical text involve her by herself in the wilderness. The way she is viewed at large by Judaism and Christianity is all the more surprising in view of the fact that she is a pivotal character not only as Abraham’s wife, but also, as the current text of the Bible states, she is visited not only by angels but may have been the recipient of a visit from deity.7

This paper will address Hagar specifically within the LDS context. This will be done first by analyzing her presence in the LDS standard works. Second, an analysis of her presence in greater LDS discourse will be achieved through a historiographic approach: viewing how she is seen and her story used through time by Church leaders and publications. To this end, Hagar will be examined by tracing her through various other LDS writings: the Joseph Smith Translation of the Bible, the Journal of Discourses and General Conference addresses, Church publications, as well as scholarly and devotional literature produced by LDS academics and authors. Lastly, this paper will introduce some further analysis of Hagar [Page 91]and her story from the Hebrew Bible that should be considered in addition to latter-day revelation when viewing her character. The conclusion of this paper is that Hagar, as a covenantal wife of Abraham and an allegorical symbol, should be held in greater esteem among Latter-day Saints due to the further light and knowledge of the Restoration, which can lend to a reading of her as integral in an allegorical reading of Abraham’s spiritual drama as a means of teaching the salvific drama of Jesus Christ in addition to her place in fulfilling the covenant promises of the Lord to Abraham.

Hagar in the LDS Standard Works

In the standard works (or canon) of the LDS tradition, Hagar appears in the Old Testament, the New Testament, and the Doctrine & Covenants. There is no mention of her in the Book of Mormon or the Pearl of Great Price. By far the majority of the material about her is concentrated in Genesis (16:1–20, 21:9–21, 25:12).8 Her position in the New Testament and the Doctrine & Covenants is more incidental. As mentioned above, in Galatians 4:22–31, Paul uses Hagar in a metaphorical allegorization of Abraham’s sons, Isaac and Ishmael. In the Doctrine & Covenants, Hagar appears only in 132:34–35, 64–65 as part of the discussion of polygamy within the New and Everlasting Covenant of Marriage.

In this section we will review these scriptural sections, with particular emphasis on the Genesis accounts (as they form the bulk of what we know of Hagar and are the foundation for that found in the other sections), with exegetical analysis and important aspects noted. Although this paper is mainly concerned with LDS interpretations and views of Hagar, some non-LDS academic sources will be considered to cast initial light [Page 92]on some of the biblical allusions, literary aspects, and meanings of the story. Footnotes will be used to provide important words in the original Hebrew for the Genesis sections. As the KJV is the standard English version used by the Church, it is used here for the biblical passages.

Analysis of Genesis 16:1–16

Now Sarai Abram’s wife bare him no children: and she had an handmaid,9 an Egyptian, whose name was Hagar. And Sarai said unto Abram, Behold now, the Lord hath restrained me from bearing: I pray thee, go in unto my maid; it may be that I may obtain10 children by her. And Abram hearkened11 to the voice of Sarai. And Sarai Abram’s wife took Hagar her maid the Egyptian, after Abram had dwelt ten years in the land of Canaan, and gave her to her husband Abram to be his wife.12 And he went in unto Hagar, and she conceived: and when she saw that she had conceived, her mistress was despised in her eyes.13 And Sarai said unto Abram, My wrong be upon thee: I have given my maid into thy bosom; and when she saw that she had conceived, I was [Page 93]despised in her eyes: the Lord judge between me and thee. But Abram said unto Sarai, Behold, thy maid is in thy hand; do to her as it pleaseth thee.14 And when Sarai dealt hardly with her,15 she fled from her face. And the angel of the Lord found her by a fountain of water in the wilderness, by the fountain in the way to Shur. And he said, Hagar, Sarai’s maid, whence camest thou? and whither wilt thou go? And she said, I flee from the face16 of my mistress Sarai. And the angel of the Lord said unto her, Return to thy mistress, and submit17 thyself under her hands. And the angel of the Lord said unto her, I will multiply thy seed exceedingly,18 that it shall not be numbered for multitude. And the angel of the Lord said unto her, Behold, thou art with child, and shalt bear a son, and shalt call his name Ishmael;19 because the Lord hath heard thy affliction.20 And he will be a wild man; his hand will be against every man, and every man’s hand against him; and he shall dwell in the presence of all his brethren. And she called the name of the Lord that spake unto her, Thou God seest [Page 94]me:21 for she said, Have I also here looked after him that seeth me?22 Wherefore the well was called Beer-lahai-roi;23 behold, it is between Kadesh and Bered. And Hagar bare Abram a son: and Abram called his son’s name, which Hagar bare, Ishmael. And Abram was fourscore and six years old, when Hagar bare Ishmael to Abram. (Genesis 16:1–16)

Some of the more important aspects of this story, as presented in the Biblical text, stand out immediately. Hagar’s status is unequivocally displayed: she is a slave, and she belongs to Sarai. Sarai gives her to Abram, as she is Sarai’s property. Hagar does not belong to Abram. In the past, many have seen in this a reference to the Code of Hammurabi wherein a certain type of priestess, who was able to marry but not allowed to have children, would give a slave to her husband in order to provide him with a son and an heir. However, this ruling, while paralleling the case of Sarai and Hagar in many ways, in actuality would not have been applicable. As E. A. Speiser writes, “These provisions are restricted to certain priestesses for whom motherhood was ruled out. No such limitations applied to Sarah.”24

[Page 95]However, Speiser points out the case is even better matched by the social laws of the Hurrians, (“a society whose customs the patriarchs knew intimately and followed often”25) as found in the Nuzi texts, where a case study shows that “in this socially prominent lay family, the husband may not marry again if his wife has children. But if the union proves to be childless, the wife is required to provide a concubine, but would then have all the legal rights to the offspring.”26 This would explain verse 2 of this pericope, where Sarai hoped to “obtain children by [Hagar].” This may also act as evidence against a common reading of these verses that Sarai was, through her own intellect, attempting to force the fulfillment of promises Abram had already received.27 Significantly, this will also play into the next section with Hagar as a freed slave (by virtue of her marriage to Abraham).

Thematically, this section is dominated by the theme of seeing or sight, with many uses and wordplays on the words for seeing and eyes. Note the uses of such sight words as “behold” (v. 2), “see” or “saw” (vv. 4, 5, 13, 14), eyes (vv. 4, 5, 6,) and the corresponding wordplay with the words for fountain or spring and affliction (vv. 6, 7, 9).28 This theme culminates in Hagar naming the God, El Ro’i, (a name that is filled with ambiguity and problematic issues deriving from its defective voweling29) and the place name that denotes the spot, Beer-Lahai-Roi, “the Well of the Living One who Sees Me.” This theme will also be prominent in the next story of Hagar (Genesis 21:9–21).30 [Page 96]The theme of sight is also paralleled by the theme of hearing, with the name of Ishmael being given by the angel and Abram hearkening/listening (literally, hearing) the voice of his wife. This theme will also carry over into the next section.

Thus, in this section Hagar does important things and receives important promises and visits. She is the first freed slave in the Bible. She becomes one of the elect few to directly receive the promise of innumerable posterity as well as an annunciation of the birth of a son by an angel. She is the first and only woman in scripture to name God. While the Hebrew text is somewhat ambiguous on her visitor (it could be an angel or it could be the Lord himself31), the LXX is much clearer, rendering vv. 13–14 as: “And she called the name of the Lord God who spoke to her, Thou art God who seest me; for she said, For I have openly seen him that appeared to me. Therefore she called the well, The well of him whom I have openly seen.” In the LXX, a theophany is much more clearly stated.

Analysis of Genesis 21:9–21

And Sarah saw the son of Hagar the Egyptian, which she had born unto Abraham, mocking.32 Wherefore [Page 97]she said unto Abraham, Cast out33 this bondwoman34 and her son: for the son of this bondwoman shall not be heir with my son, even with Isaac. And the thing was very grievous in Abraham’s sight35 because of his son. And God said unto Abraham, Let it not be grievous in thy sight36 because of the lad, and because of thy bondwoman;37 in all that Sarah hath said unto thee, hearken38 unto her voice; for in Isaac shall thy seed be called. And also of the son of the bondwoman39 will I make a nation, because he is thy seed. And Abraham rose up early in the morning, and took bread, and a bottle of water, and gave it unto Hagar, putting it on her shoulder, and the child, and sent her away:40 and she departed, and wandered in the wilderness of [Page 98]Beer-sheba. And the water was spent in the bottle, and she cast the child under one of the shrubs. And she went, and sat her down over against him a good way off, as it were a bowshot: for she said, Let me not see the death of the child. And she sat over against him, and lift up her voice, and wept.41 And God heard the voice of the lad; and the angel of God called to Hagar out of heaven, and said unto her, What aileth thee, Hagar? fear not; for God hath heard42 the voice of the lad where he is. Arise, lift up the lad, and hold him in thine hand; for I will make him a great nation. And God opened her eyes,43 and she saw a well of water; and she went, and filled the bottle with water, and gave the lad drink. And God was with the lad; and he grew, and dwelt in the wilderness, and became an archer. And he dwelt in the wilderness of Paran: and his mother took him a wife out of the land of Egypt. (Genesis 21:9–21)

As can be seen, the themes of sight (vv. 9, 11, 12, 16, 19) and hearing (vv. 12, 17) continue throughout this section, with the culmination in God opening the eyes of Hagar to see life-saving water.

Comparing this section to the previous (Genesis 16: 1–16) also shows a shift in terminology and address. In the first section one word for female slave or maid (šip̄ḥāh) is used to describe Hagar until she is married to Abram, at which point she is described as a wife or concubine (‘iššāh).44 In the [Page 99]second section another word (‘āmāh), again meaning female slave, is used. At this point, though, this is from the mouth of Sarah, when she is flustered over the “mocking” of her son and commanding Abraham to drive Hagar and her son out so that he will not inherit with Isaac. This may be an indication that this second word is more of an oppressive or pejorative term.45 However, a comparison of the usage of both words throughout the rest of the Hebrew Bible does not fully support that conclusion.46

What is clear, though, is that Abram/Abraham and Sarai/Sarah never use Hagar’s name nor speak to her directly. Indeed, God and His messenger are the only ones in these stories who speak to her directly and use her name when doing so (Genesis 16:8, 21:17). What is also clear is that Sarah witnesses something between Ishmael and Isaac that pushes her, on the basis of inheritance issues,47 to demand Abraham to send Hagar and her child elsewhere.48 The text does make clear that God commands Abraham to follow the will of his wife Sarah in dismissing Hagar, changing Abraham’s view.49 Hagar is dismissed into the wilderness, becomes the first character [Page 100]in the Bible to weep, and yet subsequently experiences another visit of a divine being and is saved by the actions of the deity.

Analysis of Genesis 25:12

Now these are the generations of Ishmael, Abraham’s son, whom Hagar the Egyptian, Sarah’s handmaid, bare unto Abraham: (Genesis 25:12)

In this the final reference to Hagar in the Hebrew Bible, we see again the identification of her as Egyptian. This has been a constant theme and her constant identifier throughout her time on screen. With this theme comes a dramatic look forward in time to the Exodus of Israel out of Egypt yet set as a distinct reversal: an Egyptian slave leaving the oppression or affliction suffered in the home of Abraham and Sarah, rather than Israelite slaves leaving the oppression suffered in Egypt.50

Analysis of Galatians 4:22-31

For it is written, that Abraham had two sons, the one by a bondmaid, the other by a freewoman. But he who was of the bondwoman was born after the flesh; but he of the freewoman was by promise. Which things are an allegory: for these are the two covenants; the one from the mount Sinai, which gendereth to bondage, which is [Hagar]. For this [Hagar] is mount Sinai in Arabia, and answereth to Jerusalem which now is, and is in bondage with her children. But Jerusalem which is above is free, which is the mother of us all. For it is written, Rejoice, thou barren that bearest not; break forth and [Page 101]cry, thou that travailest not: for the desolate hath many more children than she which hath an husband. Now we, brethren, as Isaac was, are the children of promise. But as then he that was born after the flesh persecuted him that was born after the Spirit, even so it is now. Nevertheless what saith the scripture? Cast out the bondwoman and her son: for the son of the bondwoman shall not be heir with the son of the freewoman. So then, brethren, we are not children of the bondwoman, but of the free.51 (Galatians 4:22–31)

Paul’s use of Hagar and Sarah as an allegory set the tenor for Christian understanding of Hagar. Hagar and Sarah are portrayed respectively as symbols or figures of the Jewish law/Torah (or the synagogue), and the Gentile Christian church. However, it is important to understand the context in which Paul uses this allegory: this portion is part of an extended argument that Paul is using against certain Jewish Christians or Judaizing Gentiles who are arguing for all converts to Christianity (including Gentiles) to conform to portions of the Torah, in particular the Law of Circumcision. Thus, the use of Hagar and Sarah is a veiled criticism of the two camps in the early Christian community: “The two women no longer represent themselves but are used figuratively to represent Paul’s hidden meaning in his argument against other Jewish Christians who are trying to influence the gathered assembly,” writes Letty M. Russell.52 Paul’s hermeneutic for interpreting the story of Hagar and Sarah is thus deeply tied to the political, socio-religious conflicts of his own day.

Yet, this interpretive viewpoint would be imprinted on the Christian view as it became foundational with regard to Hagar [Page 102]and Sarah for the nascent Christian community. Letty Russell notes that Hagar, in Paul’s usage, is rejected doubly, becoming even more of a pariah: “Paul doubles Hagar’s rejection through the use of allegory. In Genesis she is a foreigner, a slave, and a threat to Sarah. In Galatians she is all of these and also a Jewish Christian opponent, a slave to the Jewish law, and a threat to Gentile Christian freedom in Christ.”53 This becomes the standard allegorical view adopted by most of the Patristic fathers. As one academic, Elizabeth A. Clark, writes:

This figurative reading of Sarah and Hagar became central to the interpretations of postbiblical Christian writers, both because it encouraged ‘spiritual’ readings of the Hebrew Bible in general and because it removed Hagar and Sarah from their particularized, local context in ancient Israelite history, thereby enabling their use as symbols in a larger Christian discourse.54

This viewpoint, as derived from a limited allegory meant as rhetorical ammunition in the war of words and opinions of the early Christian community, has been enshrined in the general Christian mindset.

It seems almost to go without saying that the literal adoption of an allegorical interpretation can be a faulty foundation upon which to judge the allegorized individual and also a problematic foundation for the subsequent uses to which the allegory is adapted, especially as it is divorced from [Page 103]its original context and moorings.55 This does a disservice to the individual, Hagar, in that it presents her as one dimensional and without humanity, emphasizing one reading of her and her characteristics and diminishing any other aspects of her story.56 The LDS view of Hagar has certainly been influenced by Paul’s use of her in Galatians. For instance, the current LDS Bible Dictionary notes “Paul uses the story as an allegory to show the difference between the two covenants, the one a covenant of bondage and the other one of freedom (Galatians 4:24).57

Analysis of Doctrine & Covenants 132:34–35, 64–65

God commanded Abraham, and Sarah gave Hagar to Abraham to wife. And why did she do it? Because [Page 104]this was the law; and from Hagar sprang many people. This, therefore, was fulfilling, among other things, the promises. Was Abraham, therefore, under condemnation? Verily I say unto you, Nay; for I, the Lord, commanded it.

And again, verily, verily, I say unto you, if any man have a wife, who holds the keys of this power, and he teaches unto her the law of my priesthood, as pertaining to these things, then shall she believe and administer unto him, or she shall be destroyed, saith the Lord your God; for I will destroy her; for I will magnify my name upon all those who receive and abide in my law. Therefore, it shall be lawful in me, if she receive not this law, for him to receive all things whatsoever I, the Lord his God, will give unto him, because she did not believe and administer unto him according to my word; and she then becomes the transgressor; and he is exempt from the law of Sarah, who administered unto Abraham according to the law when I commanded Abraham to take Hagar to wife. (Doctrine & Covenants 132:34–35, 64–65)

Recorded in Nauvoo in 1843, Doctrine & Covenants 132 constitutes the basis in LDS scripture for ideas of celestial marriage or the new and everlasting covenant of marriage.58 This section contains much that is beyond the scope of this paper, thus the remarks here will be limited only to Hagar’s position in relation to LDS thought on these issues.

With the recording of this revelation, the issue of plural marriage, as described in this section, was associated strongly [Page 105]with the practice of Abraham, particularly in the person of Hagar. It is notable that this section reinforces the biblical reading that Abraham did not do wrongly in taking Hagar as a wife. It also strongly states that the reason Sarah gave Hagar to Abraham was twofold: first, because God commanded it, and second, because it was law.59 This stands in contradistinction to some interpretations that see the giving of Hagar to Abraham as Sarah attempting to fulfill promises on her own.

Hagar is thus linked heavily in LDS scriptures with a commandment of God to practice polygamy. She is the precedent for action based on the command of God. It should be noted that the LDS practice of polygamy did not take its mandate from God’s command for Abraham to practice it, but used that as an example of when God had commanded it, and claimed that God had commanded it through a modern prophet in the latter days as well. This stands as the beginning of the use of Hagar as defense against attacks on the Church by other Christians on the issue of polygamy.60

It should be noted that in these verses Hagar is still treated as a third-party object. She is the object here, never acting on her own, but is something that is to be passed along. It is also important that in this section, the use of Hagar seems to not be informed by the allegorical usage of Paul. The verses also leave open the possibility of other aspects of the story not recorded here: “and from Hagar sprang many people. This, therefore, was fulfilling, among other things, the promises” (D&C 132:34). The phrase among other things tells us that there was more going on in the Abraham, Sarah, and Hagar drama than [Page 106]the command to take an additional wife or the fulfilling of the promise of extended posterity.

LDS Uses and Views of Hagar: A Historiographic Approach

Joseph Smith’s inspired translation of the Bible, while not considered canon or part of the LDS Standard Works, does give some insights on how Joseph Smith approached the Hagar story.61 It introduces some small, yet significant, changes to the stories of Hagar as recorded in the Bible. In addition to many minor changes, the significant changes include the following:

  • JST Genesis 16:14 (KJV 16:13) relates that “she called the name of the angel of the Lord,” rather than the name of the Lord. In this way, Joseph changes her experience from a full theophany or vision of God, to a lesser theophany (if it could be called that) of an angelic visitation.
  • JST Genesis 16:15–16 (KJV 16:13) replaces the troublesome sentence in the Hebrew that she utters with “And he spake unto her, saying, Knowest thou that God seest thee? And she said, I know that God seest me, for I have also here looked after him.” This removes some of the major issues that scholars have been forced to deal with in this section of corrupted or ambiguous Hebrew, as well as describing her in a dialectic with the angel, which shows her to have strength of mind and will, and not just be a passive recipient.
  • JST Genesis 16:17–18 (KJV 16:14) rearranges the structure from the KJV and states “And there was a well between [Page 107]Kadesh and Bered, near where Hagar saw the angel. And the name of the angel was Beer-la-hai-roi; wherefore the well was called Beer-la-hai-roi for a memorial.” In this case, the name of the angel is given as “The Well of the Living One who Sees Me.”
  • JST Genesis 21:12 (KJV 21:14) rewords and changes the view of Abraham sending Hagar and her son away: “And Abraham rose up early in the morning, and took bread, and a bottle of water, and gave it unto Hagar, and she took the child, and he sent her away.” This removes the image of Hagar with the bottle of water “on her shoulder” from the traditional narrative and says that she actively took the child (Ishmael), rather than having him also placed on her shoulder. This may indicate influence of the literal chronology on Joseph, as it is illogical for the teenage Ishmael to be placed on her back.
  • JST Genesis 21:18–19 (KJV 21:21) again changes order and emphasis, saying “and he [Ishmael] dwelt in the wilderness of Paran, he and his mother. And he took him a wife out of the land of Egypt.” The phrase “he and his mother” gives added emphasis that Hagar is there with him, but then Ishmael himself takes a wife out of Egypt, a change from the biblical story in which “his mother took him a wife out of Egypt.”

The changes seen in the JST are significant in that (if the JST is considered an authentic source) they could alter many of the notions about Hagar in the LDS community. Joseph apparently felt that Hagar had not seen the Lord but rather an angel and thus shifted the relevant passages to reflect that understanding, even if it left the angel with a fairly awkward name. This potentially decreases the prestige and importance that could be ascribed to Hagar from one of the few “pure in heart” (Matthew 5:8) who had seen God to a recipient of heavenly messengers (even so, a decidedly honored and important position).

[Page 108]Similarly, Joseph introduced changes to the commonly held interpretive views of Abraham sending her away and her life in Paran with Ishmael. These changes affect the way the story, and thus the reader’s view, of Hagar is understood. She exerts her power by taking the child herself when she leaves, and she is added as a specific element in the story of her son in Paran but loses some characterizations of strength and power (not carrying the jug of water, not choosing the wife of her son, etc.). In general though, Joseph’s approach to Hagar in the JST continues to show her as a multidimensional character with both strengths and weaknesses in the same manner that the largely contextual story of the Hebrew Bible does.

The larger contextual story as presented in Genesis is lost throughout much of the rest of LDS historical views of Hagar. She becomes a much flatter character as, in general, her story and her character are used only in limited ways. The usages of Hagar can be placed generally into four categories: (1) as a defense of polygamy, (2) as an example of angelic ministration, (3) as an example of blessings on account of righteousness, and (4) as connected to comparison with other religions. However, it should not be assumed that these are exclusionary categories: individual instances that invoke Hagar as scriptural character could be classified simultaneously in any of them. First, the most prominent way Hagar and her story are used in LDS views is in the defense of polygamy and LDS doctrines of marriage. This usage of the scriptural story dominates her presence in Mormon thought, even though it is largely confined to the nineteenth century as will be shown below.

While the defense of polygamy is by far the most prevalent usage Hagar has been put to, there are other instances in which she will appear in Mormon thought and publications. A second more limited or less prevalent use of Hagar is as an example, usually in a list of many other scriptural individuals, of a person who received an angelic visitation. This is used largely in the [Page 109]context of preaching focused on the continuation of heavenly visitation and revelation in the present day. In the third category, an even rarer use includes Hagar being portrayed, almost always in connection with Abraham and Sarah as an example of the blessings of righteousness including the overcoming of extreme tests or trials (such as Sarah’s barrenness) through faith. The fourth category includes discussion of Hagar in connection with other religions (Judaism or Islam). There are also a number of other miscellaneous usages that do not fit in any of these categories that will be noted.

In the following sections, we will cover the usage of Hagar in various LDS outlets through history, using the Journal of Discourses, General Conference addresses, and other Church publications: the Contributor, which became the Improvement Era, and the Latter-Day Saints’ Millennial Star.

Hagar in LDS Discourse in the 1800s

In the Journal of Discourses, consisting of twenty-six volumes of addresses given by leaders of the Church in the Utah territory (Deseret) between 1851 and 1886, Hagar appears by name in seven distinct discourses, which fall into the first and third categories.62 Two of these instances have her being used in a general way (category three): Jedediah Grant in 1853 uses her as one example among many in his dealing with “uniformity,”63 and Erastus Snow in 1882 expounds upon Sarah’s voluntarily [Page 110]giving Hagar to Abraham, an example of faith and righteousness in the challenge of her barrenness.64

The other five discourses that invoke Hagar by name involve the defense of LDS marriage doctrines and specifically the practice of polygamy. These discourses were given by Orson Pratt (who gave two of them, in 1852 and 1874),65 Orson Hyde (1874),66 Charles C. Rich (1877),67 and Charles W. Penrose (1884).68 A few example segments from these discourses are given here to illustrate the general usage of Hagar in the defense of plural marriage.

Orson Pratt, 1852:

Why not look upon Abraham’s blessings as your own, for the Lord blessed him with a promise of seed as numerous as the sand upon the seashore; so will you be blessed, or else you will not inherit the blessings of Abraham. How did Abraham manage to get a foundation laid for this mighty kingdom? Was he to accomplish it all through one wife? No, Sarah gave a certain woman to him whose name was Hagar, and by her a seed was to be raised up unto him. Is this all? No. We read of his wife Keturah, and also of a plurality of wives and concubines, which he had, from whom he raised up many sons. Here then, was a foundation [Page 111]laid for the fulfilment [sic] of the great and grand promise concerning the multiplicity of his seed. It would have been rather a slow process, if Abraham had been confined to one wife, like some of those narrow, contracted nations of modern Christianity.69

Orson Pratt, 1874:

[In the millennium] Old Father Abraham will come up with his several wives, namely Sarah, Hagar and Keturah and some others mentioned in Genesis; and besides these all the holy prophets will be here on the earth. I do not think there will be any legislation against polygamy.

By and by they will build a polygamous city.70

Orson Hyde, 1874:

I was once conversing with a Presbyterian minister on the subject of polygamy. Said I to him—”My dear sir, where do you expect to go when you die?” He said—”To some good place, I hope.” “To heaven, I suppose?” “Yes,” said he, “I hope to go there.” Said I—”Right into Abraham’s bosom.” Well, he said, figuratively, that was correct. Said I, “If you go right into Abraham’s bosom there will be on one side Sarai and on the other Hagar, and if you make a deadshot right into Abraham’s bosom how do you expect to dodge polygamy? If you get into Abraham’s bosom you get into a curious [Page 112]place.” By this time his argument was exhausted and our conversation closed.71

In these representative examples, it is clear that Hagar is important mainly for being the plural wife of Abraham and for giving him posterity. The conversation of Orson Hyde with an unnamed Christian minister gives a typical example of the apologetic usages of Hagar for LDS doctrines of plural marriage in the face of opposition from other Christians. She is expressly not important, in any of these examples, because of her own righteousness, the visitation of an angel, or the promises she receives from God. She is reduced to being a subordinate of Abraham and Sarah, albeit one who is useful for defending LDS marriage practices.

This usage is mirrored in other Church publications of the period. For example, in the Latter-Day Saints’ Millennial Star (the Church’s official publication in Great Britain from 1840 to 1970) during the nineteenth century, Hagar the wife of Abraham is mentioned by name in thirty-three articles. Of those, twenty fall into the defense of plural marriage category, three are in reference to her angelic visitation, four are in reference to blessings of righteousness of Abraham and Sarah, seven are in the last category related to other religions, and three outliers fall into none of those categories, consisting mainly of incidental references.72

[Page 113]In the Contributor, a journal representing the Mutual Improvement Association of the Church from 1879 to 1896, Hagar is mentioned by name only four times: twice in connection with defense of plural marriage, once incidentally while talking of Abraham, and once while recounting the history of the Middle Ages and Islam.73 In 1896, this journal was followed by the Improvement Era (1896–1970), wherein Hagar is used only once, as a defense of polygamy even after the Manifesto before the turn of the century (in 1898).74

In general then, we can see that Hagar’s main use within LDS discourse through the nineteenth century was the defense of plural marriage. Other uses existed, but it is clear that in the minds of the Saints in those days, Hagar was largely to be considered in connection with polygamy. This is very likely caused by the fact that her only appearance in latter-day revelation is to be found in such a connection, in Doctrine and Covenants 132.

Hagar in LDS Discourse in the 1900s

The prevalence and usage of Hagar in LDS discourse after the turn of the century and perhaps more particularly after the Manifesto of 1890 changed considerably. With the removal of institutional support of plural marriage in the Church, the uses that Latter-day Saints had for Hagar shifted from being dominated by scriptural or theological defense of the institution of plural marriage (with a few other minor scriptural uses and incidental references) to being dominated by the incidental references.

[Page 114]From the turn of the century until 1970 (when it was succeeded by the Ensign), the Improvement Era mentions Hagar by name in only eighteen different pieces. None of these are explicit defenses of polygamy. There is one that discusses her in the context of angels and a couple that discuss her in the context of other religions.75 There are only three that could be considered theologically important as discussing her in the context of blessings of righteousness and obedience.76 LDS academic mentions of Hagar find their beginnings here, with a few articles by Hugh Nibley (that would later appear in his books).77 As this specific discourse will be considered on its own below, it is sufficient here to note that they do have a place in the general LDS discourse as found in the general publications of the Church.

The majority of mentions of Hagar in this publication through 1970 are incidental at best: a brief mention of Hagar while discussing Abraham’s servant or Ishmael78 or using her as a simile: “Like Hagar, he couldn’t watch his son die.”79 Others are even more minor: her name used in a scriptural crossword puzzle or her name appearing in advertisements for films depicting stories from Genesis.80 What these mentions of Hagar tell us is that while she did have a place in Mormon thought, it was no longer as important or vital as it had been.

In the Latter-day Saints’ Millennial Star, from 1900 to 1970, the presentation of Hagar is again a story of decreasing importance. There are ten articles that use her by name. Most are [Page 115]incidental, discussing different meanings of names or naming practices in the Old Testament, scriptural connections with Egypt, or a discussion of Biblical ethics.81 The most incidental is her position as one of the wrong answers in a couple of scriptural multiple-choice quizzes.82 There is one discussion of her as a recipient of angelic visitation.83 Importantly, three instances refer to lesson materials that utilize her as a righteous example or model of obedience to authority and earnest service.84 In contrast to the thirty-three articles that mention her name in this publication from 1840 to 1900, the ten that appear from 1900 to 1970 is a distinct drop.85

In the Ensign, which began its run as the premier Church publication in 1970, Hagar is depicted very similarly up to the present. Mentions of her are largely confined to incidental remarks included within the framework of describing or analyzing Abraham. These mentions include a simple chart showing the lineage from Abraham,86 discussions of his descendants87 and inheritance issues,88 descriptions of places [Page 116]he lived,89 or artwork associated with him.90 Sometimes these incidental mentions occur in the context of praising Sarah.91 Continuing the trend of discussing Hagar in the context of other religions, the Ensign provided important articles that use her as a bridge to understanding the beliefs of others, particularly Muslims, or other geographic areas.92

In addition to this continuation of former usages, in the Ensign during the last quarter of the 1900s, another image or examination began to occur with greater frequency. Hagar was lifted up as a woman of strength whose experience could be likened unto us personally. In 1978, Maureen Ebert Leavitt, in an article called “Privacy and a Sense of Self,” held up Hagar as one among many illustrations from the scriptures of those who in solitude have achieved extremely sacred experiences: “Many sacred experiences have occurred in solitude. Samuel was alone when the Lord called to him. Hagar was comforted by an angel in the desert—and Jacob wrestled there with a heavenly messenger.”93

In the Relief Society General Meeting of October 1995, Aileen H. Clyde, then second counselor in the Relief Society, turned to Hagar in her address to the Relief Society, the first time Hagar was mentioned by name in a general meeting of the Church in over a hundred years. She says “When I think [Page 117]of lifesaving water and of wells, I also think of Hagar (see Genesis. 21:14–20). Hers is a complicated family story,” and then recounts her story as recounted in Genesis. She continues saying,

We, like Hagar, are required to see “a well of water.” We, like the woman at the well, must ask of the Lord: “Give me this water, that I thirst not” (John 4:15). This is the purpose of Relief Society. It teaches us as daughters of God how to see and how to ask for that which we need of the Lord so that we need not thirst again.94

The move from an understanding of Hagar as theologically important solely for her position as a plural wife, through periods of disregard, to a member of the Relief Society General Presidency’s holding her up as an example of righteousness, outside of her relationship to Abraham and Sarah, to be emulated by all the women of the Relief Society is a profound shift.95

In these publications can be seen that the typical nineteenth-century description of a largely unidimensional Hagar used mainly in defense of plural marriage was flattened even further, into near obscurity, converted into just one more scriptural character that can be mentioned incidentally from time to time. This change is very likely the result of Hagar’s being so connected in the LDS psyche with polygamy that when plural marriage was stopped, there was very little need to mention her. Perceptions of Hagar began to change in the last quarter of the twentieth century as more scholarly attention was being paid to the scriptures in general and as the rise of the [Page 118]global church engendered discussions of commonalities with other regions and religions, particularly Islam.

LDS Academic and Devotional Literature

The LDS academic community provides an interesting discourse in which standard scholarly approaches to texts (scriptural or otherwise) can be applied in conjunction with the ideas and knowledge derived from modern revelation. Devotional literature (in many ways largely based on academic works) utilizes scriptural stories in ways meant to promote faith and personal application. In some instances there is much overlap between the two approaches, largely under the label apologetics; fully separating the two in modern LDS discourse can be difficult. In both there are pitfalls similar to standard theological approaches in dealing with characters: it is easy to fall into the trap of reading the characters in only one way, unidimensionally, or casting them in negative lights due to “allegiance” to other characters. For instance, one academic notes that because of the concept of Abraham and Sarah as ideal covenant spouses, there is a “temptation…to paint [Hagar] as the nemesis, the intruder, the foreigner to faith.”96 It is also possible to read too much into one source in light of another and make incorrect assumptions of primacy, influence, or meaning.

Surveying some of the LDS academic approaches to Hagar, we can see that many of the older assumptions and accepted teachings about Hagar are in some cases retained but are largely [Page 119]examined thoughtfully and carefully to create images of a real person with strengths and flaws rather than simply a form character meant to push plot or provide conflict.97 In many ways, LDS academic and devotional literature in the latter half of the twentieth century and in the early twenty-first century retain the lens of viewing Hagar vis-à-vis her relationship with Abraham and Sarah. In general, it is impossible not to do so. Hagar’s story is so heavily intertwined with her relationship with Abraham that removing her from that context would reduce her to almost nothing. How one views that context, though, will color Hagar.

Hugh Nibley used the character of Hagar in a number of different ways. In one work, he appropriated her as an identifying marker where the drama of Abraham unfolded.98 However, his main discussion of Hagar exists in his article “The Sacrifice of Sarah.”99 As the title of this article suggests, Hagar is discussed only within the context of her subordinate relationship with Sarah. As the second wife, this lesser position is largely accepted as fact and is something Hagar seems to have had issues dealing with. However, Nibley takes it further, seeing Hagar’s involvement with Abraham and Sarah within the context of other patriarchal narratives in which a conscious attempt is made to break up righteous couples: “More conspicuous is the repeated recurrence of a ritual love triangle in which a third party threatens to break up a devoted couple. Such is the story of Hagar, who sought to supplant Sarah in [Page 120]Abraham’s household and was turned out into the desert to perish of thirst.”100 In this manner, Nibley portrays her as a threat to Abraham and Sarah, a trial to be overcome by them. He does not state, however, if this is because God placed her as such or not. However, Nibley also portrays her as having a crisis similar to Abraham and Sarah:

So here, to cut it short, we have Hagar praying for deliverance from a heat death, visited by an angel, and promised the same blessing in her hour of crisis as was given to Sarah and Abraham in theirs. There is a difference, of course: by “despising” and taunting her afflicted mistress and then by deserting her, Hagar had not been true and faithful, and the angel sternly ordered her back to the path of duty whereas the promises given to her offspring are heavy with qualifications and limitations. The issue is as ever one of authority for, as Josephus puts it, Hagar sought precedence over Sarah, and the angel told her to return to her “rulers” (despotas) or else she would perish, but if she obeyed she would bear a son who would rule in that desert land. She too founded a royal line.101

Nibley here deftly follows through with the standard identifier of Hagar as a test of the righteousness of Abraham and Sarah. As seen above, throughout much of LDS history, she has been seen in this light: Sarah is given the test of giving Hagar to her husband, and when she does so obediently, the Lord blesses her with children for righteously passing the test. Yet Nibley goes beyond that to point to another layer of importance for the character. She is a normal human being, flawed with pride and desiring authority, yet is able to humble herself and submit to her duty as enumerated to her by an angel. Her obedience [Page 121]to that duty enables her to gain the same blessings promised to Abraham and to be the head of a royal line.

Works of LDS devotional literature fall on both sides of the line vis-à-vis presenting Hagar in positive, multidimensional, or negative, unidimensional light. Carol Cornwall Madsen speaks of Hagar only as defined against Sarah, as the covenant wife of Abraham.102

Sarah willingly gave Abraham her handmaid Hagar so that Sarah might “obtain children by her,” thereby providing Abraham with posterity but also removing her reproach and securing her own status through the son that would be accounted hers through her maidservant. The contempt Hagar unexpectedly demonstrated toward Sarah after conceiving, however, set in motion the unfortunate events that resulted in Hagar’s eventual exile and the fulfillment of the covenant through Sarah and her son Isaac. Sarah was to be the mother of promise, her son, Isaac, heir to the birthright. Hagar was outside the chosen lineage and Sarah’s gift of her servant would not satisfy the terms of the covenant.103

This presentation of Hagar seems to insinuate that if Hagar had not sinned by her contempt, she would still have held a place in the covenant by being the birthmother of the child of the covenant. Thus her hardship under Sarah’s hands and her exile are “unfortunate” but seemingly what she deserved, and the Lord provided miraculously for Isaac to be born and the covenant to continue. Yet this is contradicted by Madsen’s [Page 122]declaration that Hagar was outside the correct lineage and thus could never have “satisfied” the covenant. This portrayal of Hagar is negative by not seeing her as part of a covenant (despite the promises she receives from the angel/Lord). It is also unidimensional in that it portrays her as a complete foil to Sarah: Sarah must be righteous, thus Hagar is not.

S. Michael Wilcox, in his book Daughters of God: Scriptural Portraits, also presents Hagar and Sarah as distinctly intertwined foils.104 However, while Hagar is noted negatively for having “wrongly assumed a superior attitude to her mistress,” she is also portrayed very positively as a model of repentance and humility after having been dealt with harshly by Sarah.105 Similarly, Wilcox strongly asserts the scriptural position that God was aware of and watched over Hagar in her needs, something he applies to modern audiences. This portrayal is largely positive and multidimensional. Hagar is seen as a righteous, albeit flawed person who is given assurances by the Lord through heavenly ministration:

Hagar learned that the Lord was watching over her. He knew why she had fled; he knew her thoughts and desires. Before he sent her back, the Lord assured her [of her blessings]…When Hagar and Ishmael were sent away after the birth of Isaac, the Lord once again saw the plight of Hagar and took care of her, and he reaffirmed that Ishmael would be made a great nation.106

While Wilcox is generally positive, he does not deal with Hagar as the second or subordinate wife, nor the issues of priesthood lineage and inheritance. He is more concerned with understanding her as an example of righteous behavior.

[Page 123]In the last few years, the subordinate position of Hagar has in some ways even been called into question. Janet C. Hovorka, in her article “Sarah and Hagar: Ancient Women of the Abrahamic Covenant,” points out that virtually identical covenants seem to have been made between Abraham, each of his wives, and the Lord.107 She states,

Scripture gives much more information about Sarah than Hagar. And what is available about Hagar is tightly focused on three events—the conception of Ishmael, the fleeing from Sarah, and the banishment (Genesis 16, 21). It is therefore more difficult to ascertain the extent of her involvement in the covenant. However, a careful examination of the biblical text shows that Hagar enjoyed many of the same aspects of the Abrahamic covenant that Sarah and Abraham did.108

In the article, Hovorka details the stipulations, blessings, and tokens or signs associated with making that covenant which occurred in the stories of Sarah and Hagar. Even with the lack of information about Hagar specifically, it is shown that she abides by the stipulations (obedience and sacrifice) and is given promises of the exact three blessings typically known for Abraham and Sarah, blessings of posterity, land for them to inherit, and the presence of God with them. She ends the article with an application of these types of covenants in the LDS experience: through the rite of temple marriage. She explains,

Modern Latter-day Saints believe the Abrahamic covenant is passed on in a temple marriage. The requirements of obedience are similar to those for [Page 124]Abraham’s covenant. The blessings promised are explicitly the same. The sealing ceremony name changes are tokens of the covenant and associated with LDS temple marriages.109

This approach diverges from standard LDS (and general Judeo-Christian) understanding of the story wherein Hagar, while being a wife of Abraham, is seen still as subordinate to Sarah as the first wife. This traditional line of thinking is heavily steeped in the idea that the covenant was passed through Sarah to Isaac, Jacob, and the rest of the children of Israel, whereas Hagar and her descendants, although included in Abraham’s posterity, are not included in the promises of priesthood lineage from Abraham. The idea that Hagar also had equal portion with the Abrahamic covenant (albeit in an individual covenant with Abraham and the Lord without involving Sarah) as Hovorka describes has important considerations within LDS discourse, as it reinforces and fits well with the ideas and doctrines of plural marriage as described in Doctrine and Covenants 132.

Camille Fronk Olson also comments on the relationship of Abraham, Sarah, and Hagar as it relates to LDS concepts of eternal marriage and how we view Hagar in general. While retaining the traditional lesser status of Hagar, she stresses how important Hagar is as a model who should not be compared unfairly with Sarah: “Although Hagar did not receive the high calling in the covenant that Sarai was given, Hagar’s importance to God and that of her unborn son are attested in the Genesis narrative.”110 It is important to note the use of the term “calling,” a conspicuously Mormon usage meaning a responsibility, position, or stewardship one is given by revelation from the Lord. Olson’s view is acknowledged as heavily influenced by the Pauline view that Hagar represented the lesser law:

[Page 125]Centuries later, the apostle Paul drew on this symbolism to teach the restrictiveness of the law of Moses in contrast to the Lord’s higher law. In the allegory, Hagar and her descendants represented the lesser law while Sarah and her descendants symbolized the law of Christ (Galatians 4:21–31). Both the higher law and the law of Moses came from God, but the higher law promises something greater. Ishmael’s descendants, although great, would need to come to Isaac’s descendants for the promises of the covenant and the Savior’s greatest blessings.111

Despite this, Olson readily states that Hagar in the eternities enjoys all the blessings of exaltation, even though she was of a lesser “calling” in this life. She states “Hagar’s eternal destiny is likewise taught in modern scripture. Revelation to the Prophet Joseph indicates that all the wives of the patriarchs will enjoy the blessings of exaltation with their husbands,” as found in Doctrine and Covenants 132:37.112 Likewise, while she retains the traditional status arrangement, she does acknowledge that “knowing that God willed Hagar to be included in this marriage trio and that she must have therefore believed in Abram’s God directs us to consider her with equal acceptance.”113 This is why the concept of a “calling” becomes important; in Church doctrine and discourse, all callings are considered equal as part of the “body of Christ,” and thus, while Hagar’s calling was [Page 126]of lesser outward importance, it was still an equally valid and important calling for her.114

In the last few decades, contemporary academic discourse coupled with Church growth has contributed to another shift in the view of Hagar. While still recognizing her role as a plural wife, the traditional view of her as subordinate to Sarah in spiritual and covenantal matters is slowly changing to a more equal but different role.

Continuing the Discussion: Hagar’s Place in Light of the Restored Gospel

The preceding discussion has highlighted the changes that have occurred over time in the ways that the LDS community has viewed Hagar and utilized her in religious discourse. A major determinative factor that has been shown to this point is that according to LDS scripture, Hagar was made the wife of Abraham because of the commandment of God. Opposed to the rest of the Judeo-Christian community that relies solely upon the account in Genesis (where the text attributes the idea and action to Sarah, although Abraham is commanded by God to hearken to her), the Doctrine and Covenants makes clear that perhaps in conjunction with contemporary law, God commanded Hagar to be taken as a wife: “God commanded Abraham, and Sarah gave Hagar to Abraham to wife. And why did she do it? Because this was the law; and from Hagar sprang many people. This, therefore, was fulfilling, among other things, the promises. Was Abraham, therefore, under condemnation? Verily I say unto you, Nay; for I, the Lord, commanded it.” (D&C 132:34–35).

This places a significant conundrum in LDS discourse as regarding Hagar–the Lord does not give commands such as this lightly, so what was the purpose for Hagar to marry [Page 127]Abraham? The verses just cited give the answer that part of the reason was the posterity whom she would provide for Abraham that fulfilled “among other things” the promises given to him and her regarding their offspring. But what were the “other things” that were accomplished by Hagar’s marrying Abraham and the subsequent actions and reactions leading to the eventual banishment of Hagar and her son? To provide a few potential answer to this question (assuredly there are many), we will return to the Genesis account and examine specific literary connections at play between the Hagar narratives and the Adam and Eve narrative in Genesis 3 as well as in other sections of the LDS standard works.

The connections between the Hagar stories (and her relationship with Abraham and Sarah) and the characters and actions of Eve and Adam in the Garden are too many and too distinct to have been placed in the Hebrew Bible text accidentally.115 Indeed, it is apparent that the author of the Genesis account distinctly wanted his audience to recall the occurrences in the Garden of Eden, a few chapters previous to the events related to Hagar. Reviewing the general Hagar stories in the Hebrew Bible (Genesis 16:1–16, 21:9–21) yields a number of interesting connections to the Garden pericope (Genesis 3).

In Genesis 3:6 and 16:3, there occurs an exact replication of verbs. In the Garden, the woman “took (wetiqaḥ) of the fruit of it [the tree] and she ate, and she gave (wetiten) also to her man.” In the later context, “Sarai, the wife of Avram, took (wetiqaḥ) the Egyptian Hagar, her handmaid…and she gave (wetiten) her to Avram.” In this case, Hagar is presented, via an exact replication of the words used in the Garden, in the position of the forbidden fruit, the article/entity that once taken or used will fundamentally change the relationships of those involved [Page 128]with each other (and potentially with deity). This seems to indicate that the author is wanting to portray the marriage of Hagar and Abraham as the beginning of a new age or initiating a change in the ways and means of God’s dealings with man and the way that mankind should view themselves vis-à-vis deity.

In Genesis 3:17 and 16:2 another literary parallel occurs. In the Garden scenario, the Lord describes Adam’s action to him: “because you listened (šamaʿta) to the voice (leqol) of your wife/woman.” Similarly, “Avram listened (weyišmaʿ) to the voice (leqol) of Sarai.” While the verbs are not exactly replicated (but still involve the same words), the recreation of the scene with Avram as Adam listening or hearkening to the voice of his wife in taking the fruit/Hagar is strikingly similar enough to stand as direct allusion. This again places Adam following Eve in taking the fruit in juxtaposition to Abraham marrying Hagar.

In Genesis 3:16 and 16:10, both Eve and Hagar are extended similar promises of great, multitudinous descendants. To Eve, the Lord says, “I will indeed multiply (harbah ʾarbeh) your sorrow and your conception.” While to Hagar, the messenger of the Lord says, “I will indeed multiply (harbah ʾarbeh) your seed that it shall not be numbered for multitude.” With the exact words used to begin the promises and the functional equivalence between “conception” and “seed,” it stands to reason that the promise to Hagar is meant to echo that made to Eve. This is strengthened by the addition of Hagar’s being told to submit herself to the afflictions of Sarai (Genesis 16:6, 9), paralleling the multiplication of Eve’s sorrow.116 It is also of note that Abraham is the only other character in the Bible to receive directly such a promise with the same words [Page 129](harbah ʾarbeh) in Genesis 22:17, which is generally then also accepted as a promise to Sarah also.

In both stories, in Genesis 3:23–24 and 21:10, 14, at the point of expulsion an interesting verbal usage occurs. The Lord both sent (wayšalḥehu) and drove (waygareš) Adam and Eve out of the Garden. Similarly (and perhaps tellingly), Sarah commands Abraham to drive out (gereš) Hagar and her son, but Abraham sends (wayšalḥeha) Hagar away. In this manner, the expulsion of Hagar and Ishmael is meant to be viewed as another expulsion from a state similar to the Garden of Eden, implying that Abraham and Sarah remain there. Hagar literally and figuratively goes into the wilderness of affliction.

A final connection between Eve and Hagar is found in Genesis 3:7 and 21:19: both have their eyes opened. The eyes of Adam and Eve after eating of the fruit “were opened” (watipaqaḥnah) and God opened (wayipqaḥ) Hagar’s eyes in her moment of need. In the Hagar narratives this represents the culmination of the themes of sight mentioned above, the point when God plays an explicit role in her salvation. In the Adam and Eve narrative (especially that found in LDS temples), this is also the point where God steps in to participate in the salvation of Adam and Eve via a covenantal relationship, rebuking Satan, clothing them in coats of skins, and preventing them from eating of the Tree of Life and voiding the proposed plan of salvation.117 This theme of having eyes opened is also replicated in the Garden story found in the Book of Moses: “She took of the fruit thereof, and did eat, and also gave unto her husband with her, and he did eat. And the eyes of them both were opened, and they knew that they had been naked” (Moses 4:12–13). Later Adam declares, “Blessed be the name of God, for because of my transgression my eyes are opened, [Page 130]and in this life I shall have joy, and again in the flesh I shall see God” (Moses 5:10).

From these references, it is clear that the author of the Hagar passages wanted to draw attention back to the earlier story of Adam and Eve in the Garden. What is also strikingly emphasized, most especially by the parallel promises, the opening of eyes, and the expulsion at the hands of Abraham, is the relationship of Hagar to Eve. It is plain that the author of this story wanted Hagar to be seen as a parallel to the great mother figure, even if her general status within the family of Abraham in the Genesis narrative was more vague.118 What are we to make of these literary connections? From a standard Jewish or Christian standpoint, it could be hard to understand them. However, the restored Gospel, with a more detailed understanding of the Plan of Salvation, can give a different perspective, which sheds additional light on the situation.

With the influence of LDS doctrines of eternal marriage and the Abrahamic covenant, it is clear that one reason the connection is made is precisely because the inauguration of the Abrahamic covenant, as expressed in the New and Everlasting Covenant of Marriage, did represent a new era of God’s dealings with mankind. This is precisely why Abraham holds the status that he does as the head of the Abrahamic faiths. Viewing Hagar as a necessary covenantal portion of this new era, rather than simply a human attempt to provide progeny, is not the hallmark of Jewish or Christian understandings. It does, however, exhibit itself in Islamic understandings where Hagar is seen as the spiritual ancestress of all Muslims who participated fully in Abraham’s attempt to establish the spiritual re-creation of monotheism (which is paralleled with the physical creation of Adam and Eve).119 But this doesn’t [Page 131]fully answer the question, leaving one wondering why eternal marriage with Sarah alone was not enough.

Additional insight may be gleaned from other prophetic books of the Old Testament. Many of the prophets of the Old Testament undertook what have become known as prophetic action oracles, specific actions that were commanded by the Lord in order to give a sign, image, or symbol of that which the Lord would accomplish among the children of Israel. Isaiah, Jeremiah, Ezekiel, Hosea, Zechariah, and Zedekiah as well as Abraham and Moses undertook prophetic action of this type.120 Donald Parry states that the prophets’ “unconventional action, gesture, movement, or posture of itself may not have had an immediate practical purpose but had symbolic meaning or metaphoric application. The future action was the typological fulfillment of the first, original action.”121 Similarly, he also makes the point that “two themes constantly recur in the nonverbal prophecies—the theme of God’s judgment against an individual, community, or nation and the theme of the mission, attributes, goals, or atoning sacrifice of Jesus Christ.”122

In many cases, it was the prophet himself who stood as a symbol, as was told to Ezekiel: “I have set thee for a sign unto the house of Israel” (Ezek 12:6). However, in some instances, the symbol was to be accomplished by the example of the prophet and his family. For instance, Hosea was commanded to take a harlot to wife as a sign for Israel, and the children conceived in this union were also signs.123 Isaiah ben Amoz was [Page 132]also considered such and recorded “Behold, I and the children whom the Lord hath given me are for signs and for wonders in Israel from the Lord of hosts, which dwelleth in mount Zion” (Isaiah 8:18).

Abraham, in addition to being provided posterity, achieved similar purposes when he was commanded to marry Hagar. One non-LDS academic, speaking about the relationship of Ishmael and Isaac, states

Certainly the story has made of Ishmael a mere shadow of Isaac, but he remains his brother, and in this narrative he clearly acts as alter ego of Isaac, bearing as it were the negative qualities with which Isaac would otherwise be burdened. The echo in this exegesis of Leviticus 16 is no accident, for the sacrificial victims of the rites of yom kippur, taken respectively to the altar and the wilderness, are precisely balanced by the fates of Ishmael and Isaac, a point emphasized by the doublet of the Ishmael story in Genesis 21,8–21 and its proximity to the sacrifice of Isaac in chapter 22. Indeed, Ishmael is in every respect a scapegoat.124

Thus it is clear that the life of Abraham and his sons dramatizes what would become the central ritual of atonement in the Israelite temple theology. While one son is set to be sacrificed, the other is driven into the wilderness. While most commentaries concentrate upon the allegorical meaning of Isaac’s sacrifice, it is, in some ways incomplete without discussing also Ishmael.

Nephi tells us that the Law of Moses was meant to be understood as a symbol of the coming of the Lord and his atoning sacrifice.

[Page 133]And, notwithstanding we believe in Christ, we keep the law of Moses, and look forward with steadfastness unto Christ, until the law shall be fulfilled. For, for this end was the law given; wherefore the law hath become dead unto us, and we are made alive in Christ because of our faith; yet we keep the law because of the commandments. And we talk of Christ, we rejoice in Christ, we preach of Christ, we prophesy of Christ, and we write according to our prophecies, that our children may know to what source they may look for a remission of their sins. Wherefore, we speak concerning the law that our children may know the deadness of the law; and they, by knowing the deadness of the law, may look forward unto that life which is in Christ, and know for what end the law was given. (2 Nephi 25:24–27)

Considered in this way the rituals of the Day of Atonement must be seen as pointing to the sacrifice of the Lamb of God. Understanding the goat that is to be slaughtered as a type of Christ is simple, but what are we to make of the goat that literally bears the sins of the people into the wilderness? Historically the answers have ranged from a symbol of Christ to a symbol of Satan. The debate of what the scapegoat represents has been contested for nearly the entire history of Christianity.125 Analysis of the Yom Kippur rituals without considering the stories of Abraham and Isaac and Abraham and Ishmael as the etiology of the rituals is also incomplete.

[Page 134]It is not my intent to attempt a definitive reading here. However, an alternate reading of the family of Abraham based on the factors discussed above could be as an extended allegory or a multivalent symbol or sign of the parentage and roles of Jesus Christ and provide reasonable answers for why Hagar, as a second wife, was commanded to marry Abraham. Considering the parallels pointed out above with the Garden narrative, it would make sense to consider Abraham and Sarah as a divine couple—Heavenly Father and Mother— that remains in a heavenly setting while sending their “perfect,” miraculous, or divine son to be sacrificed, an “infinite and eternal sacrifice” (Alma 34:10). However, Hagar, as the expelled mortal woman, would provide the physical body for a mortal son to be raised in a fallen wilderness without the physical presence of his father.

This view of Hagar as part of this multivalent symbol would also account for the literary comparison of Hagar to the fruit of the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil. In this manner, she represents the changes in the relationship of deity with mankind through the Fall brought about by Adam and Eve as well as looking forward to the changes in that relationship wrought by the Atonement of Christ. The heavy connections between Hagar and Eve, seen through the lens of the Restored Gospel, can be explained as Hagar stands as a symbol of the woman whose seed will bruise or crush the head of the serpent.126 Thus Hagar can also stand as a type and shadow of Mary, the mother of Jesus, and the woman of Revelation forced into the wilderness.127 It is significant that in the standard works only two individuals are commanded of the Lord to marry a specific other person, Hagar and Joseph, the husband of Mary.128

[Page 135]In this way the Lord, by means of Abraham and his family, provided symbolic action to illustrate or foreshadow the dual nature of Christ as both of divine parentage as well as of a human mother. Such a position could only be accomplished by one who was obedient and true to her covenants, who had had her eyes opened to the glory of the Lord. Hagar’s marriage to Abraham as a second wife was thus necessary. Abraham and Sarah’s eternal marriage alone would not be enough to reflect the effects and symbolism of the New and Everlasting Marriage Covenant in concert with the Atonement of Christ. Similarly then, Hagar and Sarah can be construed as equals, albeit with differing roles, Sarah representing an infinitely more powerful divine Mother while Hagar represents the fallible, human mother. Yet each is equally necessary in the Plan of Salvation as the Mother of the Son of God, one by spirit, the other by flesh.

Such an allegorical and spiritualized reading of the Abrahamic drama is possible only in the context of the Restored Gospel. It necessitates the knowledge of the eternal marriage covenant as well as the revealed knowledge of a Mother in Heaven. Other religious traditions without such doctrines cannot understand in such a way the literary and symbolic stories of Hagar and by extension Abraham and Sarah. Similarly, such a reading can be accomplished only when the LDS audience moves away from unidimensional understandings of Hagar, either by viewing her as a one-dimensional, unfaithful counterpoint to Sarah’s righteousness or accepting as literal the allegorical rendering of Paul to a multivalent and multi-dimensional reading of Hagar. While acknowledging her faults (and the faults of Abraham and Sarah), this reading allows Hagar (and Abraham and Sarah) to play an integral part or fill an important calling in the dramatizing of the Eternal Plan even while being imperfect human beings.[Page 136]

Conclusion

Hagar is a complex character within the standard works of the LDS tradition. However, throughout much of the history of the Church and its members, her character has been flattened in various ways to achieve limited goals and usages. As has been shown generally from the establishment of the Church in 1830, LDS views of Hagar have shifted depending upon how and for what she was utilized, congruent with the needs and understandings of the members at those times. During the nineteenth century in LDS discourse, the issue of plural marriage dominated the depiction and usage of Hagar, although other uses can be found. Following the Manifesto and through the middle of the twentieth century, Hagar in many ways fell out of common usage within LDS discourse, probably due mainly to her distinct association with plural marriage in the minds of Latter-day Saints. She continued to appear in Church publications, however, due to other roles unrelated to her distinct status as the second wife of Abraham (i.e., as recipient of heavenly visitations, mother of Ishmael, etc.). The increase in academic discourse, Church expansion worldwide, and greater interest in women in the scriptures prompted by feminist readings (all of which have played a role in enhancing ideals of egalitarianism in the Church and members’ understanding of the Gospel) have led to a shift in understanding of her place within Abraham’s household. She is steadily being granted a role more equal to that of Sarah as a covenant wife of Abraham, albeit with a different “calling” or role.

Such a characterization of Hagar and the household of Abraham opens up new vistas of allegorical interpretation, allowing LDS interpretation to see Hagar and Sarah as representative symbols not only of the standard ideas of old versus new law or gentile versus promised lineage but also as signs of a Heavenly Mother and a mortal mother for Jesus [Page 137]Christ and his salvific role as Redeemer. This rendering also gives meaning to some of the “other things” that the marriage of Hagar to Abraham accomplished beyond simply the granting of the promised posterity.

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  1. For example, see John 5:39, Alma 33:2, Mormon 8:23, Jacob 4:6, 3 Nephi 23:1–2. Also see, Thomas S. Monson, “Come All Ye Sons of God,” Ensign (May 2013): 66-67, and Robert D. Hales, “Holy Scriptures: The Power of God unto Our Salvation,” Ensign (November 2006): 24-27. 

  2. Cynthia Gordon, “Hagar: A Throw-Away Character Among the Matriarchs?” in Kent H. Richards,ed., Society of Biblical Literature 1985 Seminar Papers (Atlanta, GA: Scholars Press, 1985), 271-277. 

  3. See, Louis Ginzberg, Legends of the Jews, (Philadelphia, PA: Jewish Publication Society of America, 1918), 1:298. For additional Jewish interpretations, see Jacob Neusner, Genesis Rabbah: The Judaic Commentary to the Book of Genesis, a New American Translation, (Atlanta, GA: Scholars Press, 1985), II:145–156, 243–258. 

  4. For an introduction and overview into these types of hermeneutics, see Phyllis Trible, “Ominous Beginnings for a Promise of Blessing,” and Delores S. Williams, “Hagar in African American Biblical Appropriation,” in Hagar, Sarah, and Their Children: Jewish, Christian, and Muslim Perspectives ed. Phyllis Trible and Letty Russell (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 2006), 22–69 and 171–84, respectively. See also, Phyllis Trible, Texts of Terror: Literary-Feminist Readings of Biblical Narratives, (Philadelphia, PA: Fortress, 1984). 

  5. For additional information on the Islamic view of Hagar, see Barbara F. Stowasser, Women in the Qur’an, Traditions, and Interpretation, (New York/Oxford; Oxford University Press, 1994) and Riffat Hassan, “Islamic Hagar and Her Family” in Trible and Russell, Hagar, Sarah, and Their Children, 149–67. 

  6. Gordon, “Hagar: A Throw-Away Character Among the Matriarchs?” 271.  

  7. See Thijs Booij, “Hagar’s Words in Genesis XVI 13B,” Vetus Testamentum, 30/1 (1980): 1–7. And Nicholas Wyatt, “The Meaning of El Roi and the Mythological Dimensions of Gen 16,” Scandinavian Journal of the Old Testament (SJOT) 8/1 (1994): 141–51. 

  8. The last reference, Genesis 25:12, mentions Hagar only as the mother of Ishmael, whose descendants are being recounted. This is retained here only for completeness in describing her appearance in the scriptural record. 

  9. Heb: šip̄ḥāh, meaning maid, maid servant, or female slave. This is the main word used to describe Hagar in this passages. If another word is used, it will be noted. 

  10. Heb: ‘ibbāneh, literally meaning “I will build up.” Here and in Genesis 30:3 this is used by childless women to obtain children through the use of their female slaves/maids. It may also be a deliberate word play on the ben, son. 

  11. Heb: wayyišma’, meaning, “And he listened.” 

  12. Heb: wattittên ‘ōṯāh lə’aḇrām ‘îšāh lōw lə’iššāh, “And the woman [Sarai] gave her to Abram to be for him a wife.” The word for wife and woman are the same. Some give an alternate translation of “concubine” based on cognates from Akkadian. See E.A. Speiser, The Anchor Bible: Genesis: Introduction, Translation, and Notes, (Garden City, NY: Doubleday, 1964), 116–17. 

  13. Heb: wattêqal gəḇirtāh bə’ênehā, “And her mistress became trifling in her eyes.” This comes from a root meaning “light,” “slight.” Literally, she begins making light of her mistress. The same word is used by Sarai in verse 5. 

  14. Heb: haṭṭōwḇ bə’ênāyiḵ, literally, “what is good in your eyes.” 

  15. Heb: wattə’annehā śāray, “And Sarai afflicted her.” The verb here can mean “to humble, mishandle, or afflict.” 

  16. Heb: mippənê, “from the face.” Face is used idiomatically also to mean “presence.” 

  17. Heb: wəhiṯ’annî, “and humble yourself.” The verb can mean “humble yourself” (thus “submit”), but also “to be afflicted.” It is the same root of the verb used in verse 6, describing what Sarai did to her. Interestingly, this root (Ayn-Nun-Nun) is very close to the root for “well,” “spring,” or “eye” (Ayn-Waw-Nun), another word used in this passage both literally (verses 7) and thematically (connected with the act of “seeing”). 

  18. Heb: harbah ʾarbeh, “I will multiply exceedingly.” 

  19. Heb: yišmā’êl, literally, “God will hear” or “God hears.” 

  20. Heb: ‘ānəyêḵ, “your affliction.” The same root as verses 6 and 9. See notes 15 and 17. 

  21. Heb: ‘êl ro’î, “God of seeing” or “God who sees.” This term has engendered much discussion, as it is uncertain as to what exactly its form is and the meaning the words should be given. See Wyatt, “Meaning of El Roi,” 143. Some have seen this as another ancient cultic name for God, similar to El Shaddai, etc. Speiser notes: “MT is pointed defectively…perhaps on purpose, to leave the reader a choice between this, i.e., ‘God of seeing,’ one whom is permitted to see, and the ro’î of the last clause, ‘one who sees me.’ The explanatory gloss that follows is hopeless as it now stands.” Speiser, Genesis, 118. 

  22. Heb: hăḡam hălōm rā’îṯî ‘aḥărê rō’î, the best rendering of this is “Would I have gone here indeed searching for him that watches me?” or “Would I have gone here indeed looking for him that looks after me?” See Booij, “Hagar’s Words,” 7. 

  23. Heb: bə’êr laḥay rō’î, “The well of the living one who sees me.” 

  24. Speiser, Genesis, 120. 

  25. Speiser, Genesis, 121. 

  26. Speiser, Genesis, 120-121. 

  27. See Genesis 12:1–3. Though it should be noted, that these promises do not detail the effect of the promises with regard to Abraham’s offspring, as do the promises in Genesis 17:1–8. 

  28. See notes 15, 17, and 20 

  29. See note 21. 

  30. Jewish legend adds an additional element of sight, attributing the Evil Eye to Sarah, by which she afflicts Hagar (inducing a miscarriage of her first child) and Ishmael. See Ginzberg, Legends, 239, 264. 

  31. Speiser notes, “Yahweh’s angel. The Hebrew noun meant originally ‘messenger,’ exactly as its Greek equivalent, angelos. In association with a divine term, the noun refers to a manifestation of the Deity, but not necessarily a separate being. In the present chapter, for instance, the angel is later identified with Yahweh himself (vs. 13). For one reason or another, an angel is interposed, in human form as a rule, to avoid direct contact between Yahweh and mortals.” Speiser, Genesis, 118. 

  32. Hebrew: məṣaḥêq, “laughing” or “mocking.” This is a usage of the verb from which Isaac’s name derives (see Genesis 18:12–15, 21:1–7). This verb can have connotations of both rejoicing and mocking, especially when modified by a preposition, as in “laughing at” someone (in Hebrew, with b-). However, the preposition is missing here in the Hebrew: “From some of the ancient versions, the original text appears to have included, ‘with her son Isaac,’ which is lacking in the M[asoretic] T[ext], perhaps through haplography.” Speiser, Genesis, 155. Because of this, all manner of conclusions have been read into the text, from simple good-natured fun, to rough play, mocking, and even sexual deviancy. The LXX retains the older reading, with the relevant passage saying that Ishmael was seen “sporting with Isaac her [Sarah’s] son.” Ginzberg reports the Jewish legend that this “sport” or “mocking” involved Ishmael aiming a bow and arrow at Isaac in jest. See Ginzberg, Legends, 264. The Genesis Rabbah traditions link the word with the trilogy of the worst possible sins: fornication, idolatry, and murder. See Neusner, Genesis Rabbah, 253. 

  33. Hebrew: gārêš, “drive out,” as an imperative. 

  34. Hebrew: hā’āmāh, “female slave.” A different word than that used in the previous section and one with a potentially more pejorative meaning. Used again in the next line of this verse. 

  35. Hebrew: bə’ênê, literally “in his eyes.” 

  36. Hebrew: bə’ênê, literally “in his eyes.” 

  37. Hebrew: ămāṯeḵā, “your maid/female slave.” The same word as in verse 10. 

  38. Hebrew: šəma’, “listen,” imperative. 

  39. Hebrew: hā’āmāh, “female slave.” The same word as in verse 10 and 12. 

  40. Hebrew: wayšalləḥehā, “and sent her away.” Note that this is a different verb than what Sarah asked him to do in verse 10. See note 29. It is also noteworthy that the LXX makes it clear that Ishmael is an infant and rides upon her shoulder: “And Abram rose up in the morning and took loaves and a skin of water, and gave them to Agar, and he put the child on her shoulder, and sent her away, and she having departed wandered in the wilderness near the well of the oath.” (vs. 14) In some Jewish legends, Sarah, by means of the Evil Eye, makes Ishmael sick, thus accounting for him needing to be carried. See Ginzberg, Legends, 264. 

  41. Hebrew: wattêḇək, “and she wept.” 

  42. Hebrew: šāma’, “has heard.” Note that God heard the voice of Ishmael, not Hagar. This is then another reference to His name, “God hears” or “God will hear.” 

  43. Hebrew: wayyip̄qaḥ, “and he opened.” 

  44. There is no scholarly consensus on which of these should be adopted. For a summation of the two positions, argued by Speiser (concubine) and Von Rad (wife), see Tammi J. Schneider, Mothers of Promise: Women in the Book of Genesis, (Grand Rapids, MI: Baker Academic, 2008), 106–107. 

  45. Phyllis Trible reads it as such. See Trible, Texts, 30, note 9. 

  46. See Schneider, Mothers, 108. 

  47. Jewish legend states that Ishmael was insisting that he should receive a double portion of the inheritance. See Ginzberg, Legends, 263. 

  48. It should be noted that the two texts are contradictory about the age of Ishmael. If they are to be taken in strict chronology, Ishmael should be in his teenage years when he and his mother are pushed out. If that is the case, it is highly unlikely that she carries him (something perhaps implied in Genesis 21:14) or that she would cast him as a babe under a bush (Genesis 21:15). Jewish legend has accounted for this by attributing the Evil Eye to Sarah, which makes Ishmael sick and in need of being carried. See Ginzberg, Legends, 264. The terminology used with reference to Ishmael is also of interest: sometimes he is referred to as a yeled (child) and sometimes as a na’ar (youth). 

  49. The Islamic narrative is more explicit about the command of God, but also more compassionate as Abraham leads Hagar and her son to the place where he leaves them, instead of just driving them out of his camp. See Sahih al-Bukhari 3364, Vol. 4, Book 55, Hadith 583 and Hadith 584. 

  50. There are some direct literary connections between the two: Sarai afflicts Hagar (‘nh), which is used for the Israelites in Egypt (Exodus 1:11, 12 and Deuteronomy 26:6); Hagar flees (ḇrḥ, Genesis 16:6) just as the Israelites will flee from Pharaoh (Exodus 14:5); Sarah asks for her to be cast/driven out (ḡrš), as the Israelites will be cast/driven out (Exodus 12:39). 

  51. King James Version. 

  52. Letty M. Russell, “Twists and Turns in Paul’s Allegory,” in Trible and Russell, Hagar, Sarah, and Their Children, 72. 

  53. Russell, “Twists,” 72. 

  54. Elizabeth A. Clark, “Interpretive Fate amid the Church Fathers,” in Trible and Russell, Hagar, Sarah, and Their Children, 128. For more specific instances, see St. Jerome, Commentary on Galatians, trans. Andrew Cain, (Washington, D.C.: Catholic University of America, 2010), 183–92; and Eric Plumer, Augustine’s Commentary on Galatians: Introduction, Text, Translation, and Notes, (New York: Oxford, 2003), 193–99. 

  55. This section of scripture has been used as justification for driving out many opponents from the Christian fold, as well as for anti-Jewish interpretation and persecution. See Russell, “Twists” and Clark, “Interpretive Fate,” in Trible and Russell, Hagar, Sarah, and Their Children

  56. One is reminded of a similar lesson taught in April 2010 General Conference by Elder Gregory A. Schwitzer of the Seventy, dealing with a similar one-dimensional reading of Martha: “Many Sunday lessons have been taught using this story which have cast Martha in a lesser position in terms of her faith. Yet there is another story of this great woman Martha, which gives us a deeper view of her understanding and testimony. It happened when the Savior arrived to raise her brother Lazarus from the dead. On this occasion it was Martha whom we find going to Jesus ‘as soon as she heard’ He was coming. As she meets Him, she says that she knows that ‘whatsoever [He would] ask of God, God [would] give [Him].’ …How often has Martha been misjudged as being a person who cared more for the deeds of doing than for the Spirit? However, her testimony in the trial of her brother’s death clearly shows the depth of her understanding and faith. Many a sister has often heard the first story and wondered if she were a Mary or a Martha, yet the truth lies in knowing the whole person and in using good judgment. By knowing more about Martha, we find she was actually a person of deep spiritual character who had a bold and daring testimony of the Savior’s mission and His divine power over life. A misjudgment of Martha may have caused us not to know the true nature of this wonderful woman,” Gregory A. Schwitzer, “Developing Good Judgment and Not Judging Others,” at https://churchofjesuschrist.org/general-conference/2010/04/developing-good-judgment-and-not-judging-others?lang=eng, accessed 18 June 2013. 

  57. LDS Bible Dictionary, “Hagar.” 

  58. The new 2013 edition heading recognizes that some of the principles described may have been known by Joseph Smith as early as 1831. As this paper is only concerned with Hagar’s specific use in the section, it can be assumed that this is dated to 1843. 

  59. It could be argued that these are the same thing. However, it is interesting that they can be read separately, thus potentially showing inspiration on the part of Joseph Smith as to the socio-legal circumstances of Abraham within the context of the Hurrian society, as portrayed in the Nuzi texts. 

  60. See footnotes 72 and 73 herein. 

  61. There are differing opinions about the nature of the JST. For a brief introduction, see Kevin Barney, “Joseph Smith Translation and Ancient Texts of the Bible,” Dialogue: A Journal of Mormon Thought 19/3 (1987): 85–102. For a more in-depth analysis, see Robert J. Matthews, “A Plainer Translation” Joseph Smith’s Translation of the Bible—A History and Commentary (Provo, UT: Brigham Young University, 1975); Kent P Jackson, Robert J. Matthews, and Scott H. Faulring, eds., Joseph Smith’s New Translation of the Bible: Original Manuscripts, (Salt Lake City, UT: Deseret Book, 2004). 

  62. The analysis here only deals with those times when Hagar’s name is used by the publication. There may be other times that she is referred to yet not named. This analysis is meant to be representative of the ways and means Hagar is used in LDS discourse, not as a comprehensive listing of every instance she is named and referred to. 

  63. Jedidiah Grant, “Uniformity” (August 7, 1853) in Journal of Discourses, 1:342–49. 

  64. Erastus Snow, “The Marriage Question” (February 26, 1882) in Journal of Discourses, 23:224–34. 

  65. Orson Pratt, “Celestial Marriage” (August 29, 1852) in Journal of Discourses, 1:53–66, and “God’s Ancient People Polygamists” (October 7, 1874) in Journal of Discourses, 17:214–29. 

  66. Orson Hyde, “Living Faith in God” (February 8, 1874) in Journal of Discourses, 17:4–14. 

  67. Charles C. Rich, “Expectations Deferred” (November 11, 1877) in Journal of Discourses, 19:161–68. 

  68. Charles W. Penrose, “Religious Liberty Guaranteed by the Constitution” (July 26, 1884), in Journal of Discourses, 25:218–30. 

  69. Orson Pratt, “Celestial Marriage,” 60. 

  70. Orson Pratt, “God’s Ancient People Polygamists,” 228. 

  71. Orson Hyde, “Living Faith in God,” 11. 

  72. It should be remembered that these are not exclusive categories, so there is some overlap between some of them, mainly between defending polygamy and connections with other religions (i.e., describing something normative in other religious contexts to defend it in the LDS context). In the defense of polygamy category (vol:no): 13:19, 20, and 21 (1851); 15:1, 7 (1853); 16:21 (1854); 18:22 (1856); 21:46 (1859); 27:47 (1865); 28:17 (1866); 29:31 (1867); 31:7 (1869); 32:9 (1870); 37:47 (1875); 45:30 (1883); 47:2, 46 (1885); 48:39 (1886); 49:13 (1887); 52:42 (1890). Angelic Visitation: 5:11 (1845); 38:28 (1977); 43:20 (1881); Blessings of Righteousness and Obedience: 15:38 (1853); 20:20 (1858); 49:25 (1887); 60:43 (1898). Other Religions: 13:19, 20, and 21 (1851); 18:20 (1856); 23:5 (1861); 29:31 (1867); 57:28 (1895). Incidental References: 33:47 (1871); 49:40 (1887); 50:23 (1888). 

  73. The Contributor, Plural marriage defense: 3:2 (August 1882), 3:6 (December 1884). In connection with Abraham: 4:12 (September 1883). In connection with history: 14:10 (August 1893). There is one more incidental reference to a rock formation in a cave named after Hagar in 4:8 (February 1887). 

  74. Improvement Era 1/7 (May 1898). 

  75. Angelic visitation: Improvement Era 47/4 (April 1944). Other religions: 11/12 (October 1908), 16/11 (September 1913). 

  76. Improvement Era 39/5 (May 1936), 50/1 (January 1947), and 56:12 (December 1953). The last of these is a specific question about Egyptian lineage and the ban on Priesthood presented to Joseph Fielding Smith. 

  77. Improvement Era 72/4 (April 1969) and 73/4 (April 1970). 

  78. See Improvement Era 13/7 (May 1910) and 41/11 (November 1938). 

  79. Improvement Era 42/10, 632. 

  80. Improvement Era 45/10, 670 (October 1942), and 56/1, 2, and 3 (January, February and March 1953). 

  81. On names and naming: Millennial Star 63/12 (21 March 1901) 178, and 77/31 (22 June 1911), 399; on Egypt connections, 83/33 (18 August 1921), 523; on biblical ethics, 35/10 (8 March 1923), 145. 

  82. Millennial Star, 110/3 (March 1948), 79 and 116/4 (April 1954), 104. 

  83. Millennial Star 82/16 (15 April 1920), 253. 

  84. Millennial Star, 70/41 (8 October 1908), 656 and 73/25 (22 June 1911), 399; and 94/8 (25 February 1932), 126. 

  85. It should be noted that the Millennial Star produced a startling amount of material in this period. Until April 1943, when it shifted to a monthly publication, the journal produced a weekly magazine consisting of hundreds of pages of written materials. 

  86. See Edward J. Brandt, “The Families of Abraham and Israel,” Ensign, May 1973. 

  87. See E.L.V. Richardson, “What is a Jew?” Ensign, May 1972; and Daniel H. Ludlow, “Of the House of Israel,” Ensign, January 1991. 

  88. See Daniel H. Ludlow, “I Have a Question: What Laws Governed the Inheritance of Birthright in the Old Testament?,” Ensign, September 1980. 

  89. See Jay M. Todd, “Some Dwellings Sites of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob,” Ensign, March 1973. 

  90. See the collections of art published as “Abraham: Father of the Faithful,” Ensign, February 2006 and “She Shall Be Called Woman: Women of the Old Testament,” Ensign, September 2006. It is interesting, that whereas the second of these compilations is meant to portray the women themselves, the piece of artwork devoted to Hagar is the same as that used in the Abraham-oriented collection published earlier. 

  91. See Carol Rollins, “Sarah’s Trial,” Ensign, March 1977. 

  92. See John Tvedtnes, “Who is an Arab?” Ensign, April 1974; James Mayfield, “Ishmael, Our Brother,” Ensign, June 1979; and Thomas and Judith Parker, “Blessed Be Egypt My People,” Ensign, September 1983. 

  93. Maureen Ebert Leavitt, “Privacy and a Sense of Self,” Ensign, August 1978. 

  94. Aileen H. Clyde, “What is Relief Society For?” Ensign, November 1995. 

  95. Hagar is mentioned again, albeit again in an incidental manner, in October 2007 General Conference by Elder Spencer J. Condie. See Spencer J. Condie, “Claim the Exceeding Great and Precious Promises,” Ensign, November 2007. 

  96. Camille Fronk Olson, Women in the Old Testament, (Salt Lake City, UT: Deseret Book, 2009), 29. “The simple fact that two women seemingly in competition for the same blessings from opposing angles appear in the same story is enough to invite serious debate and unfair comparisons. A common argument contends that because Sarah and Hagar disagreed at times and were dissimilar in many ways, they were the complete opposite of each other. Therefore, the argument concludes, one of them was righteous and loved by God, whereas the other made bad choices and was spiritually rejected.” 

  97. I will not try here to overview every academic, scholarly, or devotional piece written by members of the LDS community that may mention Hagar. What will be presented covers the major contributors and those that focus on her specifically to paint in broad brushstrokes the predominant views and understandings of Hagar. 

  98. Hugh Nibley, Abraham in Egypt, (Salt Lake City, UT: Deseret Book and FARMS, 2000), 229–30. 

  99. Hugh Nibley, “The Sacrifice of Sarah,” Improvement Era 37/4 (April 1970), 79–95. This is later included as chapter 8 in Hugh Nibley, Abraham in Egypt, (Salt Lake City, UT: Deseret Book and FARMS, 1981). 

  100. Nibley, Abraham, 357. 

  101. Nibley, Abraham, 358. Emphasis in original. 

  102. Carol Cornwall Madsen, “Mothers in Israel: Sarah’s Legacy,” in Women of Wisdom and Knowledge: Talks Selected from the BYU Women’s Conferences, ed. Marie Cornwall and Susan Howe (Salt Lake City, UT: Deseret Book, 1990), 179–201. 

  103. Madsen, “Sarah’s Legacy,” 181–82. 

  104. S. Michael Wilcox, Daughters of God: Scriptural Portraits, (Salt Lake City, UT: Deseret Book, 1998). 

  105. Wilcox, Daughters, 29. 

  106. Wilcox, Daughters, 31. 

  107. Janet C. Hovorka, “Sarah and Hagar: Ancient Women of the Abrahamic Covenant,” in Astronomy, Papyrus, and Covenant, ed. John Gee and Brian Hauglid (Provo, UT: FARMS, 2005), 147–66. 

  108. Hovorka, “Sarah and Hagar,” 157. 

  109. Hovorka, “Sarah and Hagar,” 165. 

  110. Olson, Women, 38. 

  111. Olson, Women, 43–44. 

  112. Olson, Women, 44. She specifically notes that the mention of “concubines” that Abraham received covers Hagar as well as Keturah (and Bilhah and Zilpah later), who are received into their exaltation. She defines a concubine as “a legal wife who was elevated from servant status by her marriage. Her increased status did not, however, equal that of the chief wife, who was always a free woman.” Olson, Women, 37. 

  113. Olson, Women, 37. 

  114. See 1 Corinthians 12. 

  115. Some of the parallels pointed out here are also discussed in Phyllis Trible, “Ominous Beginnings for a Promise of Blessing” in Trible and Russell, Hagar, Sarah, and Their Children, 33–69. 

  116. It is very intriguing to read Mosiah 3:19 in light of Hagar’s story. Based on the theme of submission as well as the location at the temple and King Benjamin’s understanding of covenant in Christ, it may well be that the story of Hagar informed his thinking. 

  117. See Alma 12:21–24 and 42:3–5. 

  118. Schneider, Mothers, 107. 

  119. See Stowasser, Women, and Hassan, “Islamic Hagar” for more in-depth detail on Hagar in Islamic discourse. 

  120. For a concise overview of prophetic action oracles as well as a listing of Biblical examples, see Donald W. Parry, “Symbolic Action as Prophecy in the Old Testament” in Sperry Symposium Classics: The Old Testament, ed. Paul Y. Hoskisson (Provo, UT: BYU Religious Studies Center, 2005), 337–55. Parry mentions Abraham in conjunction with the Sacrifice of Isaac but not in the way that I do here.  

  121. Parry, “Symbolic Action,” 337. 

  122. Parry, “Symbolic Action,” 341. 

  123. See Hosea 1:1–11. 

  124. Wyatt, “The Meaing of El Roi,” 149 

  125. For a brief overview of some of the pertinent points of the debate, see James L. Carroll, “An Expanded View of the Israelite Scapegoat,” Selections from the Religious Education Student Symposium 2005 (Provo, UT: BYU Religious Studies Center, 2005), 1–15. Also available online at https://rsc.byu.edu/archived/selections-2005–religious-education-student-symposium/expanded-view-israelite-scapegoat. Carroll posits that from an LDS perspective the two goats are best understood as symbols of physical and spiritual death. 

  126. See Genesis 3:14–15. 

  127. See Revelation 12:1–6. 

  128. See Matthew 1:20–25. In verse 24, the KJV relates that Joseph “did as the angel of the Lord had bidden him” which may be interpreted in more modern usage as meaning ‘was asked.’ Other translations relate that he was commanded to do so, according to the Greek, prosetaxen (προσέταξεν) from prostassó (προστάσσω), meaning ‘to command.’ 

Enoch and Noah on Steroids

Review of Jeffrey M. Bradshaw and David J. Larsen, In God’s Image and Likeness 2: Enoch, Noah, and the Tower of Babel (Salt Lake City, Utah: The Interpreter Foundation and Eborn Books, 2014), 590 pp. (full color interior includes footnotes; endnotes; three excursus sections; annotated bibliography on Enoch and the Flood; comprehensive reference list; thumbnail index of one hundred and eleven illustrations and photographs; and indexes of scriptures referenced, modern prophets quoted, and topics discussed). $49.99 (hardcover).

Reprinted with the kind permission of the Association for Mormon Letters.

If one were to poll readers of Mormon books to find: 1. the largest and 2. the most aesthetically pleasing titles published in the last few years, I think In God’s Image and Likeness: Ancient and Modern Perspectives on the Book of Moses by Jeffrey Bradshaw (published 2010) would win on the aggregate score. The attractive tome was absolutely packed to the gills, immediately changing the face of Book of Moses studies. What was not immediately apparent, however, was that the commentary only covered part of Moses (at the bookstore where I work, when we informed people of this, the most common reaction was, “What more could he possibly have to say on Moses!?!” (Turns out, quite a lot.) Now, with the assistance of David J. Larsen, Bradshaw has completed the [Page 82]extensive commentary with the recently-published In God’s Image and Likeness 2: Enoch, Noah and the Tower of Babel.

The Preface, short as it is, reveals important elements of the commentary to follow. The authors are candid in saying that they “love and revere the Word of God — in both its written and unwritten forms,” and, therefore, this “means that [they] cannot regard it ‘objectively.’”1 However, lest that scare off some readers who might dismiss Bradshaw’s perspective at that point, he adds, “Of course, I do not believe that the scriptures, as we have them, are complete, perfect, and infallible. Indeed, in one sense I think it is fair to say that the scriptures are no more complete, perfect, or infallible than the people who study them.”2 Having greatly enjoyed his first volume, I was pleased to see a similar “thoughtful faith” approach in the second.

The Introduction makes it clear that the authors will draw on biblical scholarship heavily, and it is up-to-date and top-notch scholarship at that. For the Enoch materials, they are familiar with the research of George Nickelsburg, the current authority in that field. They turn to Ronald Hendel, leading voice in discussions on Genesis, David Carr, who is a well-respected authority on the Hebrew Bible, and so on. As Bradshaw and Larsen wade through the perspectives of all these authors, they maintain that the text should be taken literally, though they draw a distinction between what ancient societies would mean by that and how that differs from a modern, clinical understanding requiring precise details.

One of the most important sections of the introduction comes under the heading: “Does the Book of Moses Restore the ‘Original’ Version of Genesis?” Obviously aware that a large percentage of Mormons likely hold this view, the authors flatly [Page 83]state, “We think it fruitless to rely on jst Genesis as a means for uncovering a Moses Urtext.”3 And, then, the key statement: “Mormons understand that the primary intent of modern revelation is for divine guidance to latter-day readers, not to provide precise matches to texts from other times.”4 Many Mormons, yes, but there are plenty who do not, and some of these even write books. Many unfortunate lines of research have attempted to do just what Bradshaw and Larsen counsel against.

One minor quibble with a point toward the end of the introduction—he cites a statement from Grant McMurray, former president of the Community of Christ, on the value of the jst. While the authors use the excerpt as an example of someone who doesn’t properly respect it, I think McMurray’s ultimate point is that the jst is not a viable candidate for an “official” version. Utah Mormons, while undoubtedly seeing the jst as a more valuable resource, do not themselves use it as the approved version either and are (again, admittedly to a lesser degree) somewhat unsure as to its ultimate status.

This follow-up volume follows the structure of the first: each pericope begins with an introduction followed by the scriptural text and traditional verse-by-verse commentary (within the larger section, the authors usually break it down to 3-5 verses at a time). Following this—the bulk of each chapter—come “Gleanings,” which are extended quotations from prophets/apostles as well as writers such as Hugh Nibley and Hyrum Andrus. Finally, in addition to footnotes—and thankfully in such a large work!—endnotes covering both introduction and commentary provide additional information at the end of each chapter. No one need fear that the authors will make unsubstantiated claims. The footnotes are copious but are almost exclusively citations for the wealth of sources [Page 84]both ancient and modern, Mormon and otherwise employed in the narrative. Endnotes are truly notes—here the authors will survey at length (some entries run to nearly a page) the findings of scholars and usually weigh in with their opinion.

What I found so enjoyable in In God’s Image, vol. 1 was the way that so many sources, both Mormon and otherwise (particularly the latter) were woven together in the commentary. Many authors do this—so often, though, it feels like a writer is just throwing things at the reader. I came away from my first experience with Bradshaw’s writing feeling that he had familiarized himself with the various texts adequately and used them responsibly. I get the same impression here. I also enjoy his careful eye to textual studies available for Moses. The first page of commentary gives a good sample of what the reader can expect: discussion of points made in the verse-by-verse from Richard Draper et al. in their commentary, a thought from Ronald Hendel, and a discussion of Oliver Cowdery’s editing of the ot1 manuscript (taken from the critical edition of the jst texts).

Anyone who has read many commentaries knows the difference between walking away from a book feeling unsatisfied, thinking the author was just rehashing, and being pleasantly surprised at the depth of research. For me, the authors produced the latter in spades. The second volume is a worthy companion to an impressive first book—both content and appearance are at the same level. Once again, numerous works of art are used—not only to create a very appealing book but to enhance the analysis.

For a restoration scripture, the book of Moses has not received much attention by authors, and Bradshaw and Larsen have done much to rectify that problem. In God’s Image and Likeness 2 is an excellent resource—like the first volume, I wouldn’t be surprised if hardcover copies sell out quickly and appreciate in value. Finished books were not yet ready at the [Page 85]time of writing,5 so I will hope in advance that the material quality is of the same caliber of the first volume. For such a well-crafted book in terms of writing and organization, it is only fitting.

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  1. Jeffrey M. Bradshaw and David J. Larsen, In God’s Image and Likeness 2: Enoch, Noah, and the Tower of Babel (Salt Lake City, UT: The Interpreter Foundation and Eborn Books, 2014), xix. Hereafter referred to as IGIL 2. 

  2. Bradshaw and Larsen, IGIL 2, xix. 

  3. Bradshaw and Larsen, IGIL 2, 16. 

  4. Bradshaw and Larsen, IGIL 2, 16. 

  5. Books are available for pre-order on Amazon.com and are scheduled for availability in select bookstores by early February 2014.