Book of Mormon Questions (Introduction 2)

 

Frau Rüster and the Cure for Cognitive Dissonance

Published in Dialogue: A Journal of Mormon Thought 40, no. 3 (2007)

For the context of this essay and why I am including it as part of the introduction to this series, please see my previous post.

 

When Elder Callister and I leaned our bikes against the fence at Hermann-Löns-Straße 9 and walked to the door, I had no idea that what was about to transpire would shape and anchor my soul for decades to come. And when we left the house and descended the steps less than an hour later, I had no context for gauging the magnitude of the experience we had just shared. I’m still acquiring that context.

Herr and Frau Rüster were our best investigators. At least Frau Rüster was. Her husband tolerated our visits and was cordial, but his search for the truth was more hypothetical than it was either pragmatic or urgent. Frau Rüster, on the other hand, wanted to know. Oh how she wanted to know. She was reading the Book of Mormon and praying about it. And her Reformed Lutheran pastor was so intrigued by her new quest that he decided to lend a hand. He generously transformed his weekly Bible study hour into anti-Mormon hour. I’m confident these new lessons took far more preparation than his conventional treks through the New Testament. Such sacrifice on his part. Frau Rüster, of course, was thoroughly confused. On one side she was hearing the missionary lessons and reading the Book of Mormon; on the other she was being exposed to every bit of dirt, credible or concocted, that good Pastor Kühne could unearth.

 

More than thirty years have now passed since I last saw Frau Rüster, but hardly a week goes by that I don’t think about her. I’m quite sure she crossed my mind a few years back when a department reorganization moved me from my editorial post at the Liahona to the Ensign. I was somewhat surprised to learn that the Ensign subscribed to both Dialogue and Sunstone and circulated them among the editorial staff. I couldn’t help wondering about these subscriptions and the reasoning behind them. But then again, the Ensign subscribed to many interesting publications: Journal of Mormon History, BYU Studies, Pioneer, Utah Historical Quarterly, The Religious Educator, Journal of Book of Mormon Studies, Newsweek, Time, Reader’s Digest, Biblical Archeological Review, Desert Saints, the Seventh-day Adventists’ Signs, Billy Graham’s Decision, the Community of Christ’s Herald, and my own personal favorite, Vision, a magazine aimed at the restoration branches that split off from the Reorganized Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints in the ’80s. I figured somebody wanted the editorial staff to be informed. I wanted to be informed too. So I read all these periodicals. Took them on the bus with me as I commuted between Orem and the COB.

I learned a great deal. I learned that Tommy Lasorda coached in Ogden before he became famous in L.A. and that young Heber J. Grant had an affinity for beer. I learned that Seventh-day Adventists are saved by grace and so is Billy Graham. I learned that Newsweek has better cartoons than Time. I learned that the Community of Christ doesn’t like to quote Joseph Smith. In fact, to me they seemed a bit embarrassed at the uncomfortable fact that he is still considered their founder. I learned that, as of a couple of years ago, the restoration branches were squarely between a rock and a hard place. They believed their First Presidency and Quorum of Twelve Apostles had apostatized en masse a couple of decades ago. They wanted to organize a new Church, at least a stake, but they couldn’t because the revelations they still revere declare that only the First Presidency can organize a stake. I’m wondering how things will eventually shake out. I learned that the Garden Tomb really wasn’t the place where the Savior’s body was laid to rest. I learned that it was actually Sidney Rigdon who wrote the Lectures on Faith and that some of the “doctrine” in them is rather, shall we say, Protestant, and this may explain why they were eventually dropped from the Doctrine and Covenants.

But of all these publications I was reading, Dialogue and Sunstone were most informative. I learned that adultery may, in fact, not be the sin next to murder. I learned that Napoleon Dynamite’s Happy Hands Club represents the female cross-brain function. I learned that Noah’s flood may have submerged only the Black Sea area and may have happened about 5600 bc. I learned that the universe may be just a small portion of a more comprehensive multiverse. And I learned that in our corner of this hypothetical multiverse lives a whole host of very unhypothetical Mormons and former Mormons and half-Mormons and quarter-Mormons and quasi-anti-neo-post-meta-counter-pseudo-Mormons who wrestle with dozens of issues and questions—everything from Native American DNA and polygamy to priesthood equality and evolution. I learned that, spiritually speaking, some of these issues have blown people adrift and have blown others apart. I learned that many intellectuals and individualists and iconoclasts have enormous frustration and microscopic patience with the perceived inflexibility and irrationality of Church bureaucracy. I generally shook my head and rolled my eyes at this last group. They had obviously never worked at Church Magazines. What did they know?

I have not been naïve for many years now, but this new reading opened my mind to the struggles of individuals as they come to see inconsistencies in the Church, its history, its founder, its scriptures, and its bureaucracy—as they shed their innocence and replace it with something that is far less comfortable for them and far less comforting. Most of the distress for thoughtful Mormons seems to revolve around Joseph Smith in one way or another. Rightly so. Richard Bushman stuck it in his title where no one could ignore it, but Joseph really was a rough stone. His life was surrounded by controversy because he was controversial—imperfect and unconventional and incomparable. Neither his fellow Saints nor his enemies could go to the Legacy Theater to see his life portrayed with skillful editing and majestic overtones. They saw him up close and personal, both the grandeur and the blemishes. Still, he himself had it so very right when he said to his followers shortly before his death, “You don’t know me.” They didn’t, and we certainly don’t.

Some of the questions that perplex people concern the intersection of knowledge and belief. Is it really possible to know anything for certain in the field of religion? I’ve read essays by faithful intellectuals, rational arguments they have constructed to support their belief in the Church and their dedication to its teachings. Others try to deflect the question. “The goal of religious development,” a social scientist once asserted, “might not be the serenity of certainty, an absolute acceptance on faith, but the capacity to sustain the tension of not knowing. To be able to live with uncertainty, to be able to cope with the insecurities of an exceedingly complex world in order to control it would be a higher achievement religiously, I think.”¹ In other words, we should not seek to know with certainty but should embrace our uncertainty. Another writer reasoned, “It’s not too hard for me to translate ‘I know the Church is true’ to ‘I know I have had a burning in my bosom which confirms the goodness of the Church and the truth of the principles which it teaches.’”² His argument, apparently, is that this inner burning doesn’t really constitute knowledge. So what can one know?

It has been a long, long time since I could say with a straight face that the gospel is simply beautiful and beautifully simple. I’ve gone the rounds with Correlation more than once over nebulous doctrines and unusable sources. Yes, Joseph Smith restored the fulness of the gospel, but he died before he filled in all the gaps and answered all the questions. Perhaps this was intentional.

 

Where Pastor Kühne got his information Elder Callister and I didn’t know, but as our Reformed Lutheran nemesis would sow the seeds of doubt, we would try to dig them up before they grew roots and sprouted. At least Elder Callister did. I was brand spankin’ new in Germany and was struggling just to follow most conversations. I couldn’t have added my two cents worth at that point even if I’d had the correct change. You see, I wanted to know the truth almost as desperately as Frau Rüster. Almost. I had grown up in a traditional Latter-day Saint home, but I had been more interested in sports and girls than deep religious questions, or even shallow ones. I knew all the Sunday School answers, but I’d never asked any questions, particularly the one I should have asked—until I walked through the front door of the Mission Home in Salt Lake City and became quite suddenly a stranger in a strange land. The bar in those days, of course, was much lower. The spiritual atmosphere in the Mission Home and then the LTM (which, I was told, stood for Longest Two Months) was entirely foreign to me. I struggled. I’d had six years of German in school, so the language was easy. But spiritual things were near impossible. Most of the other elders were sure in their testimonies. They made me feel like a spiritual infant. But some others were in diapers too—to a degree. As the weeks passed, however, they would inevitably stand in testimony meetings and tell how they had gone to an empty classroom one night and prayed and received an answer. I tried that too. But my prayers bounced off the ceiling, ricocheted around the room for a few seconds, then faded quickly into an ever-deeper silence. I was so ignorant spiritually I didn’t know what a witness of the truth would feel like. If I received one, would I even recognize it?

I prayed incessantly. I pleaded. I probably made promises I knew I couldn’t keep. Silence. I read the Book of Mormon through in two and a half weeks. I took Moroni at his word. I asked with a sincere heart and with real intent. Silence. I did know what the Spirit felt like. We’d met in passing a couple of times, once very impressively during the sacrament meeting where Doug King gave his mission report. But I didn’t assume that encounter constituted a witness. It was a strong feeling, certainly a burning within, but it didn’t impart any knowledge to me, other than the rather obvious fact that I wanted to serve a mission and become the kind of person Doug had become. For some reason, I assumed a testimony was more than just a warm feeling. I’d had warm feelings about The Lord of the Rings, Charmian Carr in the Sound of Music, and Grandma’s pumpkin chiffon pie. Maybe I was naïve. Maybe I wasn’t. But even the warm feeling eluded me. I swore I’d never fly off to Germany without a testimony. But I was basically chicken. I didn’t want to endure the disgrace of giving up and going home. Eventually, I convinced myself that going to Germany, even without a testimony, was the right thing to do.

I arrived in Rendsburg, a small city in the heart of Schleswig-Holstein, in late August. Six weeks passed slowly without any revelations from heaven, and by the time we leaned our bikes against Rüsters’ fence and approached the door it was October. I’d been praying for a witness the whole time, but my hope was running low. Interesting thing was, I was praying for Frau Rüster to get a testimony with more real intent than I was praying for myself at that point. I loved the Rüster family because Elder Callister loved them. We prayed for them morning, noon, and night, and I pled for them in my personal prayers. I don’t remember what sorts of information or disinformation Pastor Kühne was feeding Frau Rüster, but I can certainly imagine, and I know the questions he raised lay at the heart of her struggle. But she wasn’t about to give in to either side so easily. She wanted to know the truth about Mormonism. She wasn’t about to get baptized into this “sect” unless she got an answer. Logic and persuasion were not going to work on Frau Rüster. A Latter-day Saint family was fellowshipping her and her husband, but that wasn’t going to make a bit of difference either. Only the answer to one particular question would do, thank you. And for some reason God wasn’t in any hurry to give that answer.

 

I’ve been intrigued recently as I’ve read essays and articles by Latter-day Saints of prominent (or at least assumed) intellectual stature. Sometimes I get the impression they can’t see the forest for the trees. Perhaps because they grew up with it they don’t see what Frau Rüster saw so clearly. The validity of the LDS Church is not to be discerned by putting all the pieces of a theological puzzle together. It isn’t to be proved or disproved by determining whether or not Joseph Smith was involved in folk magic, by showing scientifically that Native Americans are or aren’t descended from a band of wandering Israelites, or by exploring whether or not the politics and economics laid out in the Book of Mormon reflect Joseph’s concerns about nineteenth-century America. I think I understand the questions and reservations thoughtful people have about Mormonism—doctrinal, historical, ecclesiastical, cultural, and organizational. I understand them, but for the most part I don’t share them. I can’t. Whenever I try, I keep coming back to what happened to me and Elder Callister and Frau Rüster on October 2, 1975, in the living room of the house on Hermann-Löns-Straße.

 

Frau Rüster was home alone that day—her husband was at work, her twin nine-year-old daughters at school—but she invited us in. The predictable Pastor Kühne had been by recently with a new piece of anti-Mormon propaganda, and she was perplexed. I don’t remember Frau Rüster’s particular question that day—it seemed she had an endless supply—but I will never forget Elder Callister’s answer. Maybe he had it all planned out. Maybe the Spirit whispered something to him. Or maybe he was just at wit’s end over this exasperating woman and all her doubts. Whatever the reason, he pulled from his pocket a brochure recounting Joseph Smith’s story and simply read a couple of paragraphs to her.

It was nevertheless a fact that I had beheld a vision. I have thought since, that I felt much like Paul, when he made his defense before King Agrippa, and related the account of the vision he had when he saw a light, and heard a voice; but still there were but few who believed him; some said he was dishonest, others said he was mad; and he was ridiculed and reviled. But all this did not destroy the reality of his vision. He had seen a vision, he knew he had, and all the persecution under heaven could not make it otherwise; and though they should persecute him unto death, yet he knew, and would know to his latest breath, that he had both seen a light and heard a voice speaking unto him, and all the world could not make him think or believe otherwise.

So it was with me. I had actually seen a light, and in the midst of that light I saw two Personages, and they did in reality speak to me; and though I was persecuted for saying that I had seen a vision, yet it was true; and while they were persecuting me, reviling me, and speaking all manner of evil against me falsely for so saying, I was led to say in my heart: Why persecute me for telling the truth? I have actually seen a vision; and who am I that I can withstand God, or why does the world think to make me deny what I have actually seen? For I had seen a vision; I knew it, and I knew that God knew it, and I could not deny it, neither dared I do it; at least I knew that by so doing I would offend God, and come under condemnation.

While Elder Callister was reading, a marvelous presence entered the room. How can I describe it? It was like pure electricity. It was as if an almost suffocating cloud of power and light filled the room. I have felt this power at other times in my life, but never like this, never with this intensity or immediacy or purpose. It was overwhelming, and it was the most pure and holy influence I have ever encountered. Elder Callister stopped reading, and none of us could speak for quite some time. I don’t know how long we sat there in the throbbing silence. It could have been an eternity. One of Joseph Smith’s teachings about the Holy Ghost was demonstrated vividly by the presence that visited us that day. It bypassed the body completely and communicated pure intelligence to the spirit. Imprinted on my soul during that encounter was a very specific and unmistakable message: “It is true! It is all true!” To this day I can honestly say I know only two things with absolute certainty—that I exist and the truth of what the Spirit revealed to me that day. I have never felt a presence more real than the one that came into Frau Rüster’s home that day. Mere flesh and blood pale in comparison.

Eventually, not knowing what else to do, Elder Callister handed the Joseph Smith brochure to Frau Rüster, asked her to read it and pray about it, and we excused ourselves. As I recall, she didn’t say a word or even see us to the door. When we stepped outside into the thin air and walked to the gate, Elder Callister exclaimed, “Wow, did you feel that!”

I don’t know that I answered. I had my witness. I knew. So did Frau Rüster. When we visited a couple of days later, she asked to be baptized. She said she had her answer. No more questions. We told her no. We wanted her husband to be baptized with her. We wanted him to receive the same witness. We wanted a whole family to join the Church together. Missionaries tend to be idealists. Herr Rüster was a bit shaken up by this new development, but he agreed to more seriously investigate the Church. He promised to read the Book of Mormon and pray. He never did. And I believe this is the greatest regret I have from my mission, that we insisted Frau Rüster delay her baptism. The doubts returned, and so, of course, did Pastor Kühne.

I learned through this experience that another thing Joseph Smith taught about the Holy Ghost is true: “A man may receive the Holy Ghost, and it may descend upon him and not tarry with him” (D&C 130:23). “There is a difference between the Holy Ghost and the gift of the Holy Ghost,” the Prophet expained. “Cornelius received the Holy Ghost before he was baptized, which was the convincing power of God unto him of the truth of the Gospel, but he could not receive the gift of the Holy Ghost until after he was baptized. Had he not taken this sign or ordinance upon him, the Holy Ghost which convinced him of the truth of God, would have left him.”³

Frau Rüster did not receive the gift of the Holy Ghost in time. Perhaps someday we will be held accountable for our decision. We were both nineteen. I hope God takes that into account. But eventually Frau Rüster lost the very thing she had prayed for and received. We were devastated.

A transfer took Elder Callister away soon after this experience. Elder Blades and I tried to teach Herr Rüster. He was indifferent. Frau Rüster faded. One day she told us that a famous pastor was coming to town to preach. She invited us to come listen to him, insisting that we would feel the Spirit when he spoke, just as we had in her living room. We went with her and her husband. Elder Blades and I didn’t feel a thing. I don’t think Herr Rüster did either. Frau Rüster, on the other hand, claimed she felt the Spirit there. I was not convinced, so I asked her if it was the same Spirit she had felt that October day in her living room. “No,” she confessed, “that Spirit was calling me to repentance.” Fascinating, I thought, how the Holy Ghost could tailor a specific message for each person present.

 

I’ve often reflected on the experience we shared that distant October day. And I’ve come to two conclusions. First, I’m very grateful for Frau Rüster and her sincere desire to know the truth of our message, even if she did lose that knowledge. I’ve wondered whose prayer was really being answered that day. I don’t know. But I am fairly sure of one thing: Without her faith and persistence, I doubt that I would have received an answer to my plea. My faith was at low tide by that time. Like many people, because I had prayed long and hard and had received no answer, I was at the point of giving up. I was ready to just concede that I didn’t have the faith to get a witness. If I am honest, I must confess that it was probably Frau Rüster’s faith combined with Elder Callister’s love and prayers for her that unleashed the powers of heaven that day. Second, regardless of why it came, I’m grateful this manifestation arrived in the presence of two other witnesses and that it came in the manner it did. I’m grateful I didn’t have a warm feeling about the Book of Mormon some lonely night in the quiet confines of an empty LTM classroom. Let me be specific about this. What I experienced in Frau Rüster’s living room was not a simple burning in the bosom. What we experienced was an outside presence that entered the room and filled it to overflowing. That it filled us too was inevitable. But because two other people were present and felt the intense power that I felt, I’ve never been able to talk myself out of the fact that it happened. I’ve never been able to convince myself that it was all just in my head, that I imagined it. No, Frau Rüster and Elder Callister have prevented that. My companion’s exclamation as we walked to our bikes has been very significant to me. And so was Frau Rüster’s request to be baptized. Those reactions convince me that my sometimes vivid imagination wasn’t very vivid that day. This was the most real thing I’ve ever experienced.

 

I’ve often wondered why I was favored to have such an experience when others who pray faithfully for a sure witness find the heavens firmly closed. I don’t know. Maybe most of us need a Frau Rüster. I certainly did. In fact, I’m reasonably sure, given what I know about myself and my particular bag of experiences and weaknesses, that without this overwhelming witness I would probably not be active in the Church today, perhaps not even a member. So, I’m grateful for this tender mercy from heaven and for its timing.

Testimonies, of course, come in many ways, shapes, and sizes. Most often they probably come as a quiet feeling of confirmation and grow over time. Sometimes, for some reason, they seem not to come at all. But now and then they come suddenly and with overwhelming force, and there is absolutely nothing wrong with receiving this sort of witness. If God grants it, why should I be ashamed of it or suggest that others can’t have a similar experience? At least because of this encounter I understand the difference between the whisperings of the Spirit and the “power of the Holy Ghost” (Moroni 10:4), and the difference, to me, is both immense and important. When I say I know, I don’t mean that I know I had a burning feeling within. What I mean is that I know with perfect certainty the truth about something central to Mormonism. I know that Joseph Smith saw God the Father and his Beloved Son. Historians may squabble over the details of the story and the differences between Joseph’s various accounts. But I’m no historian. I don’t know how factual all the details are. All I know is that his story, the canonized version he recorded in 1838, is accurate enough for God to endorse it as truth. This I know. I know. I know.

Now, let me conclude with a disclaimer. This witness doesn’t qualify me for any great blessings beyond those directly associated with its reception. It certainly doesn’t make me a better Christian than the least of those who harbor sincere doubts. Many who wish they knew but don’t are far more likely to be exalted in the celestial kingdom than I am. This experience marks the beginning of my path, not the end. But it has kept me from wandering off and getting lost. It has also provided me perspective. The questions surrounding Joseph Smith and the work he started are both numerous and troubling. I acknowledge that. I don’t know the answers to very many of them. Some things I just have to put on the shelf for now. I really have no choice. Just because Joseph Smith and the Church he helped restore were and are not perfect doesn’t mean they are not true. They don’t have to be perfect to be true.

 

Notes

1. Clyde Parker and Brent Miller, “Dialogues on Science and Religion,” Dialogue: A Journal of Mormon Thought 8, nos. 3/4 (Autumn/Winter 1973): 104.

2. Robert C. Fletcher, “One Scientist’s Spiritual Autobiography,” Sunstone, September 1985, 35.

3. Joseph Fielding Smith, comp., Teaching of the Prophet Joseph Smith (Salt Lake City: Deseret Book, 1972), 199.

Book of Mormon Questions That My Teacher . . . Never Asked (Introduction 1)

 

With this post, I am beginning a long, intermittent series that will cover perplexing questions about the Book of Mormon. I’ve been thinking about this project for about five years now, but I figured I’d better wait until after I retired to tackle it because some of the questions I bring up will likely not please the powers that be (and that were signing my paycheck). Before I start on the questions, however, I need to explain why I am doing this, where the questions come from, and my rather unique relationship with the Book of Mormon.

Let me start by saying that I do feel uniquely qualified to pursue this inquiry, for a variety of reasons. First, I have always liked the Book of Mormon. It’s a fascinating and complex book. Second, I have put Moroni’s promise to the test—I have prayed about the Book of Mormon off and on for almost 50 years now—but I have never had any sort of spiritual confirmation that it is “true,” whatever you interpret that word to mean. Nothing. Oddly, the only spiritual feeling I have ever had about Mormon’s book came a few years ago. I had read a couple of troubling articles that made a good case in debunking one best arguments that BoM apologists have come up with for affirming the credibility of the book, and I was pondering this as I walked the dog one night before going to bed. As I walked up the dark sidewalk, a wave of peace washed over me along with the thought, “It’s okay if you don’t believe the Book of Mormon is an accurate record of a real people.” And that’s the question I have tended to pray about in recent years. I don’t ask if it’s true. True can mean so many things. Even fiction can be true. So, I have gotten more specific in my prayers. Is it an accurate record of a real people in ancient America? Crickets, except for that wave of peace while walking the dog.

Third, for the past 18 years, up until I retired this past spring, I worked as editorial director at BYU Studies. In that capacity, I read a lot (and edited several articles) about the Book of Mormon. And starting in 2015, when Royal Skousen had a falling out with the Maxwell Institute and moved his Book of Mormon Critical Text project to BYU Studies, I had the responsibility of being Royal’s final proofreader for almost all of volume 3 (eight hefty books), which deals with the history of the text of the Book of Mormon. This broad topic actually covered a great deal of very interesting research. After I retired, BYU Studies asked me to write a short article describing Royal’s critical text project. It will appear sometime early in 2025, if you’re interested. As I point out in the article, not only did Royal answer an assortment of questions about the text of the Book of Mormon, many of which you probably never thought to ask, but he also raised many questions that are difficult, if not impossible, to answer. Royal’s work is truly impressive, especially his analysis of what’s actually in the book. Some of it is highly perplexing. I’ll get into some of that in this series of blog posts.

Fourth, the last time I read the Book of Mormon cover to cover, I was intentionally looking for theological clues, and I was marking every verse that stood out. Still, I couldn’t help but read as who I am. I have been an editor for over 30 years, so I read with a critical eye. But I am also a novelist, although I haven’t written any new fiction for quite a while, so I also read with an awareness of things like plot and characterization. What I found is that by reading as both an editor and a novelist, I discovered a host of questions that the text raised in my mind. So instead of marking just theological anomalies, I started marking every verse that raised red flags for whatever reason, and when I finished the book and counted up my markings, I found that I averaged about one question for every page of printed text. That’s where the idea for this series of posts originated. It also suggests that this series could go on for quite some time.

Fifth, several years ago, I edited Larry Porter and Susan Easton Black’s biography of Martin Harris. In the process, I had to dig into the documents surrounding the coming forth of the Book of Mormon, including the financial arrangement Harris entered into with Grandin to finance the printing. Although I did have to correct a few errors in the history and add a few qualifiers here and there, I came away convinced that the eyewitness accounts regarding the dictation of the text; the appearance of the angel to Harris, Cowdery, and Whitmer; and the showing of the plates to the eight witnesses are accurate. It’s too hard to explain these accounts away. Most of the eleven witnesses turned against Joseph Smith at some point, but none of them ever denied seeing what they said they saw or handling what they said they handled. Which makes my task a conundrum of sorts, because what is actually in the text doesn’t always square with the history encompassing the book’s appearance in 1829 and 1830.

My purpose in exploring these questions is not to determine whether the Book of Mormon is “true” or not. My purpose, rather, is to try to figure out what the Book of Mormon is. The evidence suggests it is not an exact translation of an ancient record. Skousen’s incredibly detailed work casts serious doubt on that premise, which he readily admits. But the evidence arising from the actual text suggests that this book also did not come from Joseph Smith’s imagination, or the imagination of any of his contemporaries. It is far too complex. I have good reason to believe that God was definitely involved in the fact that it exists at all. But how do we reconcile the textual evidence with the accounts of eyewitnesses or even the claims the book makes about itself? In a book review I wrote many years ago, I made the statement that the Book of Mormon is like a million-piece jigsaw puzzle and that we haven’t even put the border together yet. Royal Skousen’s work is just the beginning, in so many ways, of understanding what this book is. I hope my modest stab at asking questions about the book will move us a few inches further along the path to understanding.

Because some of my questions will directly undermine the assumption that the Book of Mormon is an accurate history of a real people, I want any readers of this blog series to understand exactly where I stand on the central question of Mormonism. To do this, in the next two posts, I am going to present two different accounts of an experience I had as a young missionary almost 50 years ago. The first account appeared as an essay, “Frau Rüster and the Cure for Cognitive Dissonance,” in volume 40, number 3, of Dialogue: A Journal of Mormon Thought. That 2007 version was written at the beginning of my work at BYU Studies, before I had really encountered much of the complexity of Mormon history and theology. The second account is a third-person adaptation of the Dialogue essay that I included as a chapter in my mission memoir that was published eleven years later by BCC Press. By this time, I was a lot less sure about what this experience with Frau Rüster (cast now as Frau Richter) actually meant and a lot less willing to make blanket assertions. The mission memoir explains both why I switched to third person in retelling the tale and how my work at BYU Studies affected my relationship with the LDS Church and its doctrine. The title of the memoir gives a clue about the path I walked in the intervening years between these two accounts: Bruder: The Perplexingly Spiritual Life and Not Entirely Unexpected Death of a Mormon Missionary. It’s worth reading, if I may say so myself. And the title of the chapter about Frau Richter (Rüster) ends with a question mark. In the earlier version, it was a statement.

Mormonism is a complex religious and cultural phenomenon, and the Book of Mormon lies near the center of it. I believe most Latter-day Saints read it rather superficially, with untested assumptions guiding their understanding of the text. So, what will follow, after my two interpretations of an experience I had in 1975, is a sporadic and randomly organized look at the questions I have entertained as I have read the Book of Mormon. Maybe by the time I run out of questions, I’ll be able to make some sort of assessment of the book. But maybe not. That’s what I want to find out.

America: The Land Where the Unfit are Elected by the Uninformed

 

Okay, I admit “unfit” is far too weak a word to describe Donald Trump. He would be unfit to serve as dog catcher. And “uninformed” is also not nearly expansive enough to describe all the groups who voted for Trump. The most rabid Trump voters are disinformed, meaning they have believed his lies, which are ceaseless. But many who voted for Trump are also woefully uninformed. Heather Cox Richardson, a history professor who authors the daily email series “Letters from an American,” included this tidbit of info the day after the election: “Social media has been flooded today with stories of Trump voters who are shocked to learn that tariffs will raise consumer prices as reporters are covering that information.” These people are certainly unaware of all the highly visible Republicans and members of Trump’s former administration who warned against a second Trump presidency and came out in support of Kamala Harris.

I’m sure the disinformed and the uninformed were also joined by a large number of misogynists, racists, white supremacists, and Christian nationalists, who truly believe in the program Trump is about to unveil. But a lot of Trump voters just haven’t been paying attention. And that includes a lot of Mormons. I refuse to call them Latter-day Saints, because there is nothing saintly about ignoring everything their religion teaches them, including specific instruction in the D&C about electing “honest men and wise men” and “good men” (D&C 98:10). None of these words describe Trump. Maybe because the revelation mentions only “men,” these Mormons rationalized that that disqualified Harris because she is a woman. But I haven’t heard anyone make that poor excuse.

No, most Mormons voted for Trump for the simple reason that he is Republican (although he certainly isn’t conservative), despite the First Presidency letter in 2023 that warned against straight-ticket voting. If you look at the Utah voting map, which is still incomplete, you see that Mormons in the state voted for Trump at much higher rates than non-Mormons did. There were only three counties where the majority voted for Harris, and these are the three counties with the largest non-Mormon populations: Salt Lake (54 percent for Harris), Summit (58 percent), and Grand (53 percent). Summit County is where Park City is, and Moab is located in Grand County. In rural Utah and Washington County (St. George area), Trump took more than 70 percent of the vote, in some counties as high as 87 percent. In the more metropolitan areas (aside from Salt Lake and Summit counties), Trump took between 60 and 69 percent of the vote. San Juan County, in the southeast corner of the state, was a slight outlier with Trump taking 57 percent.

In short, non-Mormons in Utah voted for a law-abiding and Constitution-upholding former prosecutor who is also a biracial woman at a much higher rate than Mormons, who overwhelmingly voted for a convicted felon, confessed sexual predator, pathological liar, tax cheat, vindictive and vulgar demagogue, and boorish braggart, whose incompetence was on full display during the COVID pandemic. And you can’t even use policy differences to explain the disparity here. I’ve heard some of my fellow Mormons say, “I don’t like Trump’s personality, but I love his policies.” Ask them what policies they love, and they draw a blank. This is supported by surveys that used the blind-taste-test method to see what voters really think about the candidates’ policies. When respondents were asked how well they like various policy proposals without telling them which candidate they are from, even Republicans like Biden/Harris policies far more than Trump’s policies. This is part of what I mean by uninformed. People are voting without reliable information. Maybe they don’t know where to find it, or maybe they’re lazy, or maybe they’re watching Fox News. Who knows?

If you have seen the Jimmy Kimmel late-night talk show episode filmed the day after the election, you might remember his Lie Witness News segment, where they stopped people on the street in Los Angeles and asked them if they were going to vote that day. Everyone they showed in this segment said they were going to vote, even though election day had already passed. Some said there were long lines that day at the voting locations in their neighborhoods. One young lady said she was voting for Harris and hoped her vote would make a difference. If this is an accurate picture of even a thin slice of America, it is easy to see how people who are not just uninformed but totally clueless damage democracy.

I can’t begin to describe how this election affects my feelings about my fellow Church members. As you might remember if you’ve been following this blog, my opinion of Mormons wasn’t very high during the pandemic, when a majority of my ward ignored the First Presidency’s direct plea to wear masks and get vaccinated. They were too invested in individual freedom, not understanding that sometimes we have to sacrifice our own freedoms for the greater good. But this is far worse in my mind. Voting for a man who is everything Jesus Christ isn’t just seems unimaginable to me. What it tells me is that the vaunted gift of the Holy Ghost, that we boast about so much in the Church, is virtually inoperable when it comes to politics, and maybe when it comes to a lot of other aspects of life. Tribalism trumps everything: common sense, ethical principles, the Constitution, the gospel, advice from the First Presidency, you name it. The Holy Ghost apparently can’t break through the brick wall of political partisanship.

It pains me that someone like Dick Cheney, who lied America into a long and expensive and tragic war, has more moral sense and more devotion to the Constitution than 70 percent of my fellow Mormons. And they consider him and Liz and Mitt and even Mike Pence traitors. There’s no place in today’s Republican Potty for people who refuse to wallow in Trump’s private cesspool.

All I can say is that these disinformed and uninformed Trump voters are going to get exactly the government they deserve. Unfortunately, those of us who voted against him are going to get the government we don’t deserve. Heaven help us.

The ABCs of Trump

 

Well, let’s have a little fun with the alphabet before what is certain to be a crazy election day tomorrow.

A: Autocrat (Trump demands personal loyalty and is totally uninterested in the institutions of democracy); Adulterer (he cheated on all three wives)

B: Bully (third-grade name-calling, threats of violence); Braggart (the great Dizzy Dean once said if it’s true, it ain’t bragging; Trump even bragged about his beautiful beach bod, which most people would probably mistake for a beached whale; he’s probably thinking of those Photoshopped trading cards he’s hawking to gullible groupies)

C: Corrupt (the man has never seen a law or rule he thinks applies to him); Chaotic (he doesn’t have policies; he has prejudices); Criminal (34 felony convictions with, hopefully, many more to come)

D: Demagogue (Trump exploits the fears and prejudices of his followers); Dementia (he’s showing signs of mental deterioration: can’t finish a sentence, stay on topic, or answer simple questions); Dangerous (take it from members of his first administration)

E: Ego (Trump has the largest but most fragile ego on earth); Evil (what else do you call a serial adulterer, a sexual predator, a fraud, a tax cheat, an insurrectionist, and a compulsive liar); Election Stealer (he attempted it but, thank goodness, didn’t succeed)

F: Fascist (so labeled by his longest-serving chief of staff, John Kelly, and the chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff under Trump, Mark Milley); Fraud (found guilty in a court of law, more than once); Fake (he is a snake oil salesman)

G: Gullible (he believes crazy conspiracy theories and flattery from dictators); Greedy (bases his self-image on his supposed wealth; hawks kitschy, overpriced stuff made in China; diverts campaign donations to pay for his legal bills)

H: Humorless (he doesn’t smile—he smirks; have you ever seen him laugh?); Hateful (like all demagogues, Trump has to create enemies and focus his hatred on them)

I: Incompetent (his handling of the pandemic is exhibit A, but his whole presidency was a disaster); Incoherent (have you listened to him speak?)

J: Juvenile (his name-calling, his diet, his philandering, his self-centeredness, and his vindictiveness all indicate he never really grew up); Jailbound (or at least headed for house arrest)

K: Kinky (see Access Hollywood tape); Know-it-all (doesn’t listen to people who actually are experts); Kowtower (see Putin, Kim Jong Un, Erdogan, Jinping, etc.)

L: Liar (he simply can’t tell the truth about anything); Lecher (no explanation needed); Laughable (this man is so unqualified and unfit to be president, it would be funny if it weren’t so pathetic)

M: Moronic (not Moroni; see description by his first Secretary of State, Rex Tillerson); Megalomaniac (definition: suffering from delusional and infantile feelings of personal omnipotence and grandeur)

N: Negative (thinks America is a hellhole, can’t admit that Biden is presiding over the best economy in the world); Narcissist (what many observing psychiatrists have diagnosed; interested only in himself)

O: Obscene (his lack of inhibition is getting even worse); Obtuse (definition: insensitive, stupid, not clear or precise in thought or expression)

P: Pathetic (he would be pitiable if he were not so dangerous); Power-hungry (see Megalomaniac above); Petulant (like a little child)

Q: Queasy (the effect he has on half the country); Quid pro Quo (remember his demand of Ukrainian president Zelenskyy); Quisling (look it up)

R: Rapist (see E. Jean Carroll verdict); Reprobate (definition: one who is morally corrupt or depraved)

S: Sexual predator (26 women have accused Trump of rape, kissing, groping without consent; see Access Hollywood tape for his own confession/bragging about it); Superficial (he has no interest in the difficult work of devising good policy); Slothful (spent more time on the golf course than reading briefings)

T: Threat (what dozens of members of his previous administration consider him); Troubled (this man needs therapy)

U: Unqualified (see all of the above and below); Unfit (ditto); Ubiquitous (he can’t stand to not be the center of attention)

V: Venal (definition: capable of being bought); Vacuous (marked by a lack of intelligence)

W: Worst (as in the worst president in the history of America); Weird (yup, thanks Tim)

X: Xenophobe (Trump hates foreigners, at least those with brown or black skins); X-Rated (listen to any of his recent rallies)

Y: Yuck or Yech or Yuk (yeah, I’m really tired of this man); Yellow (see draft deferment for Private Bone Spurs)

Z: Zealot (definition: a fanatic partisan); Zombie (can’t this dude’s political career just die?)

Republican Devotion to Authoritarianism

 

This post won’t be just about the Republican devotion to autocrat Donald Trump. Their authoritarianism problem is much broader and deeper than that. Trump is a symptom rather than the source of this problem. What I want to talk about is the enduring Republican preference for a particular kind of capitalism and connect that preference to our current predicament.

If you’ve been reading this blog from the beginning (wow, it’s been almost ten years now), you know that I often criticize what I call corporate capitalism, a form of capitalism that is far removed from what Adam Smith and other early economic theorists envisioned. But corporations are not the only or even primary problem. The real problem is how we divvy up ownership of capital. William Greider said it best in his classic One World, Ready or Not: The Manic Logic of Global Capitalism. “The problem,” says Greider, “is not that capital is privately owned, as Marx supposed. The problem is that most people don’t own any.”¹ The wealthiest 10 percent of Americans now hold 93 percent of all corporate stock, and the percentage is steadily increasing. By contrast, the bottom 50 percent of Americans hold just 1 percent.² This is based on Federal Reserve statistics for third quarter 2023.

It is no secret that a vast majority of businesses in America—from the largest multinational corporation to the smallest sole proprietorship—are not democratic institutions. They may resemble any number of governmental types: monarchies, oligarchies, plutocracies, dictatorships, aristocracies, fiefdoms, or theocracies. But almost never can they be described as democratic republics. In essence, we have embraced an economic system that is almost totally incompatible with our political ideals and our constitutionally mandated governmental structure. Put another way, free enterprise may exist between businesses, but it rarely exists within them.

If you are employed, take a close look at the business you work for. Do you have a real voice in vital decisions? Are you able to elect your leaders in the business? Likely not. I worked for the LDS Church and BYU for over 30 years. They are good places to work but are definitely authoritarian in structure and practice. You might argue that in the Church we vote for our leaders. Hardly. Our sustaining vote is more an indication that we will follow our leaders than a real opportunity to select them. When was the last time you saw a Church leader at any level removed because the congregation (or entire Church) voted him out? Right. Joseph Smith may have called the Church a “theo-democracy,” but it is really a theocracy in practice.

The tendency of businesses to favor authoritarian forms of internal governance is not surprising. It is literally baked into their DNA by the way their ownership was initially established. It is virtually impossible to have workplace democracy when ownership is concentrated in the hands of either one individual, a small group of individuals, or a more broadly dispersed group of wealthy investors (in which case, a board of directors chooses top management). The only way to ensure workplace democracy is through worker ownership of the business.

I’ve covered this issue extensively elsewhere on this blog, but today I want to explore the political implications of authoritarian ownership structures.

There are many differences between the two major American political parties, but one significant difference is where they generally line up regarding management and labor. Although neither party has come out strongly in favor of worker ownership (except for Bernie Sanders), Democrats generally side with the workers, in favoring a higher minimum wage, supporting unions, and passing legislation to protect workers from injury and abuse. Republicans, on the other hand, are usually aligned with management, through such policies as tax cuts for the wealthy and for corporations, lax regulation of pollution and worker safety, and the undermining of easily accessible health care and other social benefits.

Republicans have often yearned to have a “businessman” in the Oval Office, assuming that a capitalist executive would be able to manage government more efficiently. In recent elections, they have put forward men such as George W. Bush and Mitt Romney (John McCain was an exception), who made their fortunes in the business world. Donald Trump, of course, is the Republican capitalist dream candidate. He purports to be a billionaire, although his particular road to riches has traversed bankruptcies, tax evasion, fraud, stiffing workers and subcontractors, and skirting the law in a variety of ways. But Republicans love the idea that he owns his own business and doesn’t answer to anybody.

What Republicans expect from these business types may be an efficient and well-run government, but what they actually get is government directed by someone who is used to behaving as an autocrat. So, we should not be surprised at Trump’s authoritarian plans for his next administration. It is all he knows. He knows virtually nothing of the actual workings of a constitutional democracy, with built-in checks and balances, something that is second nature to someone like Joe Biden, who has spent his life in public service and knows how a democracy can and should work. And what is worse, unlike, say, George W. Bush, Trump has little interest in learning anything new, unless it adds to his power and wealth. He would rather bend the constitutional democracy to his whims and habits (or break it in the process) than learn to operate within the parameters of a system that has given Americans guaranteed freedoms and opportunities for self-rule for more than two centuries.

Our democracy is both resilient and fragile. The worst mistake we could make at this point is placing at its head a businessman whose authoritarian instincts have been honed for decades, who demands loyalty above country from his subjects, and who has never believed that any laws or rules apply to him. America survived one Trump presidency, when he was surrounded by a staff that often prevented him from following through on his worst ideas. I’m not sure it can survive a second go-around, this time without any guardrails, especially since we have a spineless Republican Congress and a subservient Supreme Court.

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1. William Greider, One World, Ready or Not: The Manic Logic of Global Capitalism (New York: Simon & Schuster, 1997), 416.

2. Jennifer Sor, “The Wealthiest 10% of Americans Own 93% of Stocks Even With Market Participation at a Record High,” Business Insider,, January 10, 2024, https://finance.yahoo.com/news/wealthiest-10-americans-own-93-033623827.html?guccounter=1&guce_referrer=aHR0cHM6Ly93d3cuZ29vZ2xlLmNvbS8&guce_referrer_sig=AQAAAFvwl70qwZWMfXiDrz01pi6Zr2O5Gpfa0w7MaSmMfcZGg4Skuj9ADr0OdG7BPe0LYoWFGJDknk6Ye4twFUuWRX3QHtqiQPIg8K3uvL02rPDBX5a8_T1b4yiHK86KXpiwSyb8mcWSoG7HjI0js7PVld1eC7EYyr1XYeOPaT3-_d3r.