Experimental spirituality and Christian life

My Book of Mormon reading this week was Alma 32-35, Alma's discourse on faith and Amulek's discourse on repentance—or as I currently prefer to call them, Alma’s discourse on experimental spirituality and Amulek’s discourse on Christian life.

Alma’s discourse begins when Zoramites who have been cast out of the synagogues come to him and ask, “We have no place to worship our God; what shall we do?” (32:5). I’ll have more to say about being cast out of the synagogue when I reflect on the anniversary of my excommunication later this week. For now, let me just note that Alma tells them it’s actually a good thing they’ve been cast out because it means they are “necessarily brought to be humble” and lowly of heart (32:12), by which he means, in more concrete terms, that they’re now open to receiving a different message.

Alma then gives his famous definition of faith as not having a perfect knowledge but rather hoping for things you do not see. And with that in mind, Alma urges the Zoramites to “experiment”—his word—with the new form of spirituality he’s promoting. Even if you can only desire to believe, he says, let that desire work in you until you can give place for at least a portion of the new teachings (32:27). Note that he’s not saying you have to accept everything he says—you can be selective. It’s okay to embrace just the part that feels right to you; in fact, he goes so far as to say it’s okay to embrace just the part you want to. And then once you’ve made the experiment, see how it feels. Does this teaching make you feel that your soul is being enlarged? Your understanding enlightened? Is it delicious to you? (32:28) Later he talks about feeling that your mind is expanding (32:34).

Alma’s describing what Latter-day Saints usually call a testimony. Except Alma is quick to clarify that these kinds of experiences do not constitute “perfect knowledge.” Yes, you can say on the basis of these experiences that you know the seed is good. But you can’t “lay aside your faith” (32:36). You can’t say, “I used to have only faith, but now I know.” Rather, you have to continue in this attitude of experimenting, hoping, desiring, trusting without being altogether certain, watching to see whether you feel enlarged, enlightened, etc. Because we’re talking about faith, not perfect knowledge—because you’re engaged in an ongoing experiment—you might be right, you might be wrong. Combining Alma’s discourse with LDS teachings elsewhere about continuing revelation, I’d add that you should expect your views to change as you continue, as Alma says, to nourish the word with faith and patience and diligence, allowing it to take root in you and to bring forth fruit (32:42).

That describes my approach to LDS spirituality—discerning, selective, experimental, but at the same time diligent, conscientious, disciplined (trying, at least) in my ongoing engagement with the word.

Then Amulek adds another piece to this: How do you “exercise your faith unto repentance” (34:17)? In other words, how do you translate belief and testimony into a new way of living? As Amulek lays it out in the latter half of chapter 34 (after elaborating a theory of the atonement in the first part of the chapter), Christian life has two main components: prayer and charity. He says we should pray for our livelihood (34:20, 24-25). We should pray at morning, midday, and evening, which I take to mean we should pray over meals (34:21). We should pray for peace and freedom (34:22). Prayer is intimacy with God (34:26). It draws our hearts out to God and also out to those around us, for whose welfare we should be praying in addition to our own (34:27). Later in the chapter, Amulek talks about worshipping God wherever we are and living in thanksgiving daily. Our whole lives, in other words, should be an act of worship, lived out of a sense of gratitude and of experiencing the abundance of God’s “mercies and blessings” (34:38).

But, Amulek cautions, a life of prayer is vain and hypocritical if it is not simultaneously a life of charity. We must not turn away the needy and naked; we must visit the sick and afflicted; we must impart of our substance to those in need (34:28). Since that language gets repeated so often it’s become clichéd, let me translate that into different language (albeit this language, too, can get clichéd through repetition). We need to relinquish ideologies that tell us we are entitled to accumulate wealth and instead redistribute goods on the basis of need. We must see that those who are sick or incapacitated receive the care they need and are not relegated to the margins. We must be in solidarity with the poor and oppressed. We must work for social and economic justice. We must, as Amulek says later, do what we can to “improve our time” (34:33).

Amulek doesn’t mention baptism explicitly in this text. But you could read it into 34:38, where he urges his listeners to receive the Holy Ghost and take on the name of Christ. Baptism is the expression of our willingness to take Christ’s name upon us—to share in his life and death, to live as his disciples, to do his ministry in the world. And the gift of the Holy Ghost is God’s response—breathing out upon us a new Spirit, infusing us with new life, Christ coming to dwell within us so that we, the church collectively, can be his body.

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God of mercies and blessings—

I give thanks for the teachings on faith in Alma 32. I give thanks for how, through my reflection on those teachings, your Spirit has guided me to nourish my faith at key moments in my life.

I give thanks for the ways you have enlarged my soul, enlightened my understanding, and expanded my mind. I give thanks for the ways that Mormon teaching and spiritual practice have nourished me over the years—giving my life form and direction, orienting me, bringing me into places where I have felt blessed.

I give thanks that you have given me the courage to experiment and follow desires that others had taught me not to trust but which have in fact proved fruitful for me.

I feel badly that I am not as disciplined in my prayer life as I should be. I know how badly I practice charity. Actually, let me correct that: I know that I’m even worse at practicing charity than I know I am.

I want to be better—more conscientious about my devotions, more kind, more self-sacrificing. I want to be less defensive, less angry, less afraid of the future. I want to move through the world with the serenity of a life lived in thanksgiving and with a tangible sense of being immersed in an abundance of blessing.

I think that’s what I want, anyway. I don’t know—it sounds so mystical. I’m on more sure ground when I tell you I want to be an instrument for promoting social justice. So maybe I should leave off there.

In Christ’s name, amen.