3 Nephi 1-7

Rather than a sustained reflection today, here are miscellaneous places in this week's readings where I sensed the Spirit was trying to say something to me.


1:13-14 - The nativity of Christ is a sign to the world that God will fulfill all the promises made through the prophets. Christ comes into the world to do the will of the Father and the Son—meaning, to do the will of God, and to do it in the flesh, in the material world.

This is one of the important themes of the Christmas story for me. By retelling and reenacting and reaffirming that story once a year, I reaffirm and strengthen my faith that God will fulfill the millennial promises conveyed through the visions of the prophets. Swords will be beaten into plowshares, exiles will be gathered, waste places will be rebuilt, government will be established that judges with equity for the poor, oppression will be done away, all will dwell in safety, the lion will lie down with the lamb, the desert will blossom like the rose, etc. And these things will happen as material realities—that is, as political, social, economic, cultural, and environmental transformations—not just as symbols for internal spiritual transformations or as promises for a world to come. The will of God will be done in this world, in the flesh.

But it starts small: that's also a message of the nativity story. It's not cataclysmic. It's not immediate. It's not what you expected. The sign that the promises are to be fulfilled is a baby lying in a manger because it was born to dislocated migrants who had nowhere to stay. But I should probably pick up the thread of that reflection in a few months.


3:16, 19; 6:20 - Nephi drops out of the story between chapter 1 and the last half of chapter 7. In their civil war against the rebel government of Giddianhi, the Nephites are led by two other prophets, Lachoneus (who is also governor) and Gidgiddoni (who is also the military commander). We're told in verse 19 that the Nephites' custom is to appoint as their military commander "someone who had the spirit of revelation and prophecy."

Because of the particular kind of Enlightenment political tradition I've been inculcated in, the mingling of religious and political/military authority being depicted here makes me very nervous. But what struck me about these passages was how prophetic authority was being clearly diffused beyond Nephi. There isn't anyone among the Nephites who functions as "the Prophet"—not even Nephi, evidently, though we're told he ministered with especially noteworthy power (7:15-19). I see that same message coming through in 6:20 as well: various individuals, we're told, are "inspired from heaven" and sent forth to preach. As always, my attention is drawn to passages that point to conceptions of prophesy other than the centralized prophetic hierarchy to which LDS ecclesiastical authorities have become wedded.


3:20-21 - The prophet Gidgiddoni forbids the Nephites to go up against their enemies. He insists that unless they wait for their enemies to strike first, God will not deliver them.

I referred to this passage in a speech I gave at a Salt Lake rally in 2003 voicing opposition to the then-immanent war in Iraq. I believed then, and I believe now, that the doctrine of a pre-emptive strike is an immoral one. A nation has a moral obligation to wait for its enemy to strike before it can possibly be justified in launching a military counteroffense. (I suppose I'm obliged to extend the principle to individuals as well, though I find that a bit harder to stomach, frankly; but that's a discussion for another day.) This verse, along with some others in LDS scripture, articulates a similar moral vision.


4:28-33 - We get this grusome object lesson of Zemnarihah being hung on a treetop and then the tree felled, with the people praying that God will similarly fell all their enemies—and then the people start singing God's praise and shouting hosanna, and crying with joy for God's having delivered them.

I'm sure that in similar circumstances I would feel similarly grateful—i.e., I would feel that the death of unprecedented numbers of people in battle (4:11) was God's delivering me and my people from our enemies. But even as I write that, I'm sensitive to the "ick" factor: I'm thinking of Mark Twain's story about the angel who comes down to tell the congregation what their prayer for success in war means for the other side. And I'd like to think that I would have the moral balance to be repelled by the overt violence involved in the people's celebration. This isn't purely hypothetical: my country's at war now, in a campaign that has combined the ubiquitous slogan "God bless America" with the torture of endlessly detained prisoners at Guantanamo.


5:13 - My mission president quoted this verse in the release letter he sent to my stake president when I returned home. "I am a disciple of Jesus Christ, the Son of God. I have been called of him to declare his word among his people..." My mission president said I had become that kind of missionary.

When my stake president read that to me, I laughed nervously and said, "Is this a form letter?" "Oh no," the stake president said, very seriously. I was laughing nervously because my mission president's approbation made me feel flattered, and I felt guilty about feeling flattered; but at the same time, this stamp of approbation from my mission president (which I presume was routine for him, however sincere) meant a lot to me because I was always insecure about the acceptability of my service. So when I read that verse now, I feel a wave of nostalgia for my mission and the experience of full-time ministry; I feel gratitude for my mission president and his wife and their love; and I think that while they would no doubt feel disappointed at the way my life has unfolded in the years since then, I can still say that I aspire to be what this verse declares: a disciple of Christ, living out a call to declare his word among his people.