The Danger of Judaizing Mormonism

In each season of growth it is necessary to prune the trees that are to produce fruits. Root sprouts and limb over-growth will rob nourishment from that fruit. The spiritual parallel takes place when the root sprouts of scholarship and tradition rob nourishment from the spirit of prophecy. Such was the plight of ancient Israel as rabbis replaced prophets and tradition replaced holy writ. Good husbandry (horticulture) is as necessary today as it has ever been. As fruit trees still need pruning, so good doctrine still needs to be free of uninspired embellishments.

Zenos spoke of the unpruned olive tree of modern Israel, a tree "cumbered" with all sorts of fruit. Though there was "much fruit," there was "none of it which [was] good." (Jac 5:30, 32.) Jewish tradition maintains that Moses brought two kinds of Torah when he descended Sinai: the written and the oral. The written Torah had been inscribed by the finger of the Lord on the tablets of stone; the oral Torah was said to be the unwritten explanation and application of what the Lord had written. For generations the oral traditions were perpetuated and embellished by the wise and learned until their value was esteemed by many to be of greater worth than the written word. An issue, for example, might be decided as follows: Rabbi Ishmael was taught by Rabbi Gamaliel, who learned from Rabbi Avraham, who was taught by Rabbi Yitzhak, who remembered that Akiba had traced a given tradition to Moses. Thus, tradition supplanted revelations for many.

By A.D. 200 the rabbinical traditions were committed to writing and became known as the Mishnah. Scholarly commentary upon these commentaries ensued, resulting in the multi-volume collection called the Talmud. Within the covers of the Talmud are accounts of rabbinic debate, quaint sayings, fancies, fables, legends, superstitions, and anecdotes.

Illustrating the exalted role of tradition, the Babylonian Talmud contains a fanciful account of a debate between Rabbi Eliezer and Rabbi Joshua over the possibility that revelation could be given beyond what had been spoken on Sinai. After exhausting every possible argument to no avail, Eliezer, sustaining God's right to continue to speak, called upon the carob tree to prove it. The carob tree, we are told, was torn from the ground and hurled 150 cubits. This sign was rejected on the grounds that no proof can be brought from a carob tree. Next Eliezer called upon a stream of water as proof, and the stream started to flow backwards. Joshua objected, "What sort of demonstration is does a stream afford?" Eliezer then said, "If the oral tradition agrees with me, let the walls of the schoolhouse prove it," whereupon the walls inclined to fall. Rabbi Joshua rebuked them, for when scholars are engaged in a debate over the law, he argued, the school has no right to interfere. The walls did not fall, but remained on an angle or incline. Seeking an irrefutable witness, Rabbi Eliezer then called on the heavens to speak for themselves. A heavenly voice sounded forth and said, "What have ye against Rabbi Eliezer after whose opinion the law is always to be framed?" At this, Rabbi Joshua arose and said, "The Torah declares concerning itself, 'It is not up in heaven'; that is to say, once the Torah was given on Mount Sinai, we pay no heed to heavenly voices but, as the Torah ordains further, we follow the opinion of the majority." [Milton Steinberg, Basic Judaism (New York: Harcourt, Brace, and World, Inc., 1947), pg 68-69.]

"Thus," Jesus said to those of his day, "ye have made the commandment of God of none effect by your tradition" (Mt 15:6), as the law given to prepare them to receive him became the justification by which they as a nation rejected him. By such references it is not my intent to cast aspersions upon the Jewish community in our day any more than Mormon or Moroni intended to cast aspersions on the Lamanites of our day by recounting the false traditions of their fathers. Jew and Lamanite alike are chosen people.

Mine is not a call to repentance; such is not my office. Mine is an expression of concern, concern about the extend to which we as Latter-day Saints have allowed ourselves to be bound with the cords of tradition, the extent to which we are preoccupied, with doctrines established upon the authority of what someone said that someone said they heard Joseph Smith tell somebody else. I could fill a volume in the Mormon Talmud with apocryphal stories that have been told to me about my own father and my grandfather Joseph Fielding Smith. If there were room, I could add stories about Jessie Evans Smith. Such a volume would add the same reliability to the history and faith of the Latter-day Saints as the Talmud does to Judaism. The plain fact of the matter is that frauds are frauds, historical frauds are frauds, pious frauds are frauds, and doctrinal frauds are frauds. It is a little hard to argue that black bears are bears while brown bears and polar bears aren't. White bears can be as dangerous as black bears, and a Mormon Talmud has no more power to save than the Jewish Talmud or a Talmud compiled by any other people.

Fabrications, forgeries, imaginative tales, and embellished stories are not the only sources that threaten to Judaize Mormonism. We too have a rabbinic tradition; we have the idea that truth is established by the authority of what teachers of an earlier day said. Thus, we often expend greater energy in searching for quotations than in searching for understanding. We become more concerned with scriptural commentary than with scripture. So-and-so said it, or said that So-and-so said it, and thus the matter is settled. Again we find ourselves establishing our own oral tradition, developing our own Mishnah and Talmud. Supposedly, if someone else had the ability to think, write, and even part the heavens, we are spared the same effort and responsibility. And so we no longer teach as one having authority, but rather as the scribes and Pharisees.

When an issue needs resolving, rather than entering into a search for truth, we play a game of theological checkers. Proponents of one view line up their authorities with appropriate quotations while those of a differing viewpoint line up theirs, and the game begins. The object is to see who can outmaneuver whom. To make matters worse, when we cannot refute an opponent's authoritative quotations, we are faced with the temptation of discrediting his authorities by attacking their credibility. A common way to do this is to rehearse some instances in which they were known or at least believed to be in error. Thus we malign some of the best people the earth has ever known and all in the name of reverence and respect.

Apparently it has not dawned on many that we are all responsible for what we choose to believe and teach and that this is as true of those holding high office and position in the Church as it is for the rest of us.

Unscriptural Doctrines

Judaism and historical Christianity both provide marvelous case studies for the process by which tradition supplants revelation and is elevated to the status of doctrine. What of Mormonism? Do we face the same danger? Do we commonly teach as doctrine things for which there is not a shred of scriptural evidence? I am fearful that we do. Let me suggest four illustrations, matters that are frequently the subject of discussions in Church classes. My challenge of the theological roots of these so-called doctrines will probably be sufficient to cause some annoyance this evening. Should that be true, it will help establish my concern that we may be every bit as susceptible to the enticements of traditions in preference to revelation as were our ancient Jewish and Christian counterparts.

My first illustration is what we have come to call eternal progression. The phrase "eternal progression" is not found anywhere in the Standard Works, and we have no evidence that the phrase ever fell from the lips of Joseph Smith. When it first appeared in our conversations and literature I do not know. The scriptures do explicitly state that all who are exalted will enjoy the "fulness of the Father," be "joint heirs" with him, and be equal with him in power, might, and dominion (see D&C 93:5-17; Rom 8:14-18; D&C 76:94-95; 84:33-41). Scores of scriptural passages attest that God has all wisdom and knowledge, both in heaven and on earth (see Mosi 4:9; 5:15). His knowledge is spoken of as being "infinite" (Psa 147:5). The only sense in which the scriptures sustain the idea that God progresses is in bring to pass the exaltation of his children (Moses 1:39; D&C 130:4; 132:63).

Second, let us take the idea of unconditional love. In Latter-day Saint sermons of recent years it has been common for speakers to challenge the congregation to emulate God in exercising "unconditional love." I do not know who first figured out that God's love is unconditional. I do know, however, that he did it without the help of scripture. Again, the phrase itself is entirely unscriptural; if there are scriptures that sustain the idea, I have been unable to find them. When I have asked people who teach this so-called doctrine how they distinguish God's "unconditional love" from salvation by grace as taught in the Protestant world, they have been unable to do so.

"He that hath my commandments and keepeth them," Christ said, "he it is that loveth me: and he that loveth me shall be loved of my Father, and I will love him, and will manifest myself to him" (Jn 14:21). Again, the Savior said: "If ye keep my commandments, ye shall abide in my love; even as I have kept my Father's commandments, and abide in his love" (Jn 15:10).

As a third illustration, let us consider guardian angels. Once again we are using a phrase that is without scriptural warrant. True, it is found in hymns, patriarchal blessings, and sermons. Certainly a righteous father who has died will continue to look after his family and scores of illustrations could be cited where people have been protected by angels--indeed our revelations tell us that the hosts of heaven have been charged to protect those who honor their covenants (D&C 84:42, 88)--but where does the theory that some poor soul from the world of spirits has been assigned to follow each of us around "silent notes taking" come from? The idea would make an entertaining movie plot, but it is poor theology.

Fourth, consider the on-going argument as to the possibility of advancing after the resurrection from one degree to another. More properly stated, can we advance from one resurrection to another? The debate ignores the scriptural definition of resurrection as the inseparable union of body and spirit (see Alma 11:45; D&C 138:17). If a terrestrial body and a terrestrial spirit have been "united never again to be divided," can we change them into that which is celestial? The strongest argument in favor of the hope of advancement from one degree to another is that the scriptures are not explicit in rejecting it. The scriptures do state that there is no progression from the telestial kingdom (D&C 76:112) and that there is no progression in the celestial kingdom (D&C 132:17; [131:1-4]). The unavoidable point, however, is that we are without the slightest indication in the scriptures that such could be the case. Surely the fact that the scriptures do not say that there is no leprosy in heaven is hardly reason to argue that there is.

Concluding Observations

In conclusion I return to the story with which we began. About two years after our classroom exchange, Chaplain Martin and I were base-camped near each other in Vietnam. Some of the enthusiastic Latter-day Saint boys in his unit brought him with them to one of our servicemen's conferences. It was a rather unusual conference that involved a surprise visitor, Elder Bruce R. McConkie. The gospel was preached that day and we heard a testimony of the God known to Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob. When it was over, Chaplain Martin turned to the young men with him and said, "Well, if it wasn't for my training, I would join your church."

Such is the effect of the traditions of the fathers, the "iron yoke," the "strong band," the "handcuffs, and chains, and shackles, and fetters of hell," as the Prophet Joseph called them (D&C 123:7-8). It is from such traditions both in and out of the Church that we must free ourselves. If we are to be true to our testimony of the Restoration we must be true to the scriptures of the restoration. We must come to know them and learn to measure our doctrines against them.