It is hard to conceive that in this age of enlightenment and scientific advancement that there could be any myths left in modern man’s paradigm. We believe ourselves to be smarter, more inventive and certainly more knowledgeable than our predecessors. After all, we ride where they walked, eat where they hungered, fly where they could only gaze and live a life of ease and comfort they could not envision in their wildest fantasies. It is almost preposterous to think that we might harbor notions as foolish as those embraced by our ancestors.
The ancients believed such foolishness as: the world was flat, the brain was useful only to cool the blood, life emerged spontaneously from swamps and ponds of stagnant water, idols answered prayers and the Earth was the center of the universe. Is it possible that we, the enlightened ones, still have similarly silly skeletal notions in our cultural closet?
A tale of oil and dinosaurs
A number of years ago, a large oil company advertised its gasoline product with an animated television commercial, explaining how ancient plants and animals gave their all so we could have gasoline for our cars today. The animators depicted a cartoon dinosaur poking its head out of a car’s filler pipe, making a somewhat comical growling sound as the car sped off.
This amusing commercial illustrated the modern view, held by geologists and paleontologists, that Earth’s petroleum deposits came from the remains of long dead plants and animals — a cleaver portrayal of orthodox science’s theories that Earth’s petroleum deposits and its many byproducts originated in the distillation of hydrocarbons from the decaying remnants of massive, ancient flora and fauna accumulations, buried by successive deposition in enormous subsidence zones. Over great expanses of time, they opine, these deposits were compressed in geological processes, squeezing out the hydrocarbons, which then collected in great pools beneath impermeable layers of rock. Hence the term “fossil fuel.”
Old ideas die hard
A century ago, this idea seemed logical. Probably since time began, man has mined coal for energy from great seams layered in the earth. Those same coal beds, and the strata adjoining them, hold the fossils of ancient plants and animals. Since the only things on this planet seen to contain appreciable amounts of hydrocarbons were the flora and fauna that proliferate on its surface, scientists naturally assumed that this was the source for buried hydrocarbons. Deep peat beds found in some locations seemed to support that idea. Those peat beds were thought to be simply an early step in a process that eventually would create coal and hydrocarbon deposits. Thus, it seemed reasonable to assume that coal and oil were the byproducts of some ancient biomass.
While such thinking may have been acceptable in the past, it is no longer viable. This is one of the great myths of modern science. What is more, it serves to demonstrate how intractable scientists are about their pet theories when faced with evidence that does not fit their paradigm.
A new age
This explanation for the existence of crude oil and natural gas — hydrocarbons — beneath Earth’s crust may have been useful up until the mid-twentieth century, but it has no meaning in light of the preponderance of evidence that has accumulated in the last 40 years — especially that gathered since mankind entered the space age.
For decades, we have launched unmanned probes to other planets and moons in our solar system. These have sent back pictures and data sufficient to teach us the true origin of Earth’s hydrocarbons. We have learned that hydrocarbons are present almost everywhere in the solar system, not just on Earth. Sophisticated spectrographic analysis has detected hydrocarbons in the atmosphere of many major planets and many large moons.
An oil world
Most notable for its concentration of hydrocarbons (scientists cautiously use the word “methane”) is great Titan, a moon nearly the size of Mars that circles Saturn. Data suggests that the atmosphere of this planet-sized moon is composed primarily of hydrocarbons in one form or another. Scientists say that so great is the concentration of hydrocarbons in its atmosphere that when it rains on Titan, condensed hydrocarbons fall in droplet from clouds of methane rather than water as on Earth. In fact, where Earth is a water planet with streams, lake, rivers and oceans of water, Titan is an oil planet with streams, lakes, rivers and oceans of flowing hydrocarbons in one form or another ranging from light, volatile oils to heavier forms.
Earth’s true history
What seems likely from the evidence collected to date is that Titan and Earth represent two distinct phases of similar planetary evolution. The oil deposits deep in Earth’s crust betray the unarticulated truth that this planet once passed through a phase like that which persists on Titan today. At some time in Earth’s long, ancient history, our atmosphere was so charged with hydrocarbons that they naturally accumulated in great concentrations on the surface. Some of the heavier oils — some almost tar-like — were deposited in layers and then buried in seismic events. Some of the lighter hydrocarbons, like naphtha, would have seeped deep into the ground to accumulate in vast pools, just as water concentrates in great, deep aquifers today. Those great pools of oil, gas or petroleum remained entombed in Earth’s crustal rock, insulated from the chemical and catastrophic processes that ultimately reduced our atmosphere to its present composition.
If not there, why here?
No one speculates that these newly discovered hydrocarbons found elsewhere in the solar system came from any kind of decayed biomass. The environment on most other planets — most notably the gaseous giants — is far too harsh to support any life, much less generate anything approaching the quantity needed to produce massive amounts of hydrocarbons. So, why assume that oil elsewhere — on Earth, for example — came exclusively from life?
This beg the question: Since there are massive amounts of hydrocarbons elsewhere in the solar system, might it be that Earth’s hydrocarbon deposits originated in the same way as those others? Of course, the only logical answer is yes! If it is impossible that hydrocarbons found elsewhere in the solar system are the byproducts of life, then it stands to reason that the same likelihood holds true for Earth.
Modern myths cling to life
Ironically, even though the newest evidence seems to suggest another source for Earth’s hydrocarbons, no one in the orthodox scientific or scholastic community speaks or writes of it. Indeed, the latest textbooks written and used by academia in classes on geology, paleontology and astronomy intended to “educate” the young, perpetuate this absurd fiction. Although the truth is as plain as the nose on our collective face, we persist in teaching a fabrication, a fraud. Once again, as in the days of Copernicus and Galileo, we see the establishment academia clinging like grim death to an absolute myth!
Immanual Velikovsky, the author of Worlds in Collision, speculated over 50 years ago that hydrocarbons were introduced into the Earth’s atmosphere anciently, but within historic times, when errant planets in our solar system passed devastatingly close to the Earth. Scientists mocked and criticized his theory on the strength of their conviction that hydrocarbons existed nowhere else in the solar system but on Earth. Such criticism was rather persuasive then since mankind knew so little about other worlds. Even the best telescopes did little to reveal the conditions that truly existed on other planets. However, now that the recently discovered evidence supports Velikovsky’s early assertion, there is still no re-evaluation of his theories forthcoming from establishment science.
Velikovsky’s theory was not just a lucky guess, as some charged. He asserted that hydrocarbons are plentiful in the atmospheres of other planets, based on ancient eyewitness accounts of fire falling from the sky and burning over the ground when one or more of those planets passed perilously close to the Earth, mixing their volatile atmospheres with our own. Given recent evidence, it appears that Velikovsky was actually more accurate than his detractors.
The success of Velikovsky’s predictions regarding the existence of extraterrestrial hydrocarbons should have caused the scientific and scholarly institutions to reassess their scathing criticisms of the good doctor’s other theories, but they did not. Likewise, once mankind entered the space age, the orthodox myth of crude oil’s origin in ancient biomass should have been dispelled immediately. But it was not. Instead, today’s science textbooks parrot the same tired myth of yesteryear.
The answer to why this old tradition was not summarily dismissed and why science refuses to reconsider Velikovsky’s theory reveals much about our culture and our intransigence — something Book of Mormon prophets would have called “stiffneckedness.”
As it is with science, so it is with religion. Whenever people who have embraced a myth are confronted by truth, they seldom relinquish the myth — ‘impartial’ scientists and ‘truth-seeking’ religionists included. Indeed, they continue to embrace the myth in the face of all evidence to the contrary, either completely ignoring the evidence for the truth or viciously attacking it with spurious logic and an utter absence of common sense. Not only do we see evidence of this time and again in the biblical record, as in the book of Mormon, we see it all around us today.
© Anthony E. Larson, 1999
Showing posts with label geology. Show all posts
Showing posts with label geology. Show all posts
Wednesday, November 5, 2008
Tuesday, September 16, 2008
Stars, Planets, Moons, and Temples
Mormonism is unique among Christian denominations for many reasons. One of the things that makes it so distinctive was its founder’s interest in bringing ancient texts to light. Another was the instigation of temple use, a practice thought to be largely pagan and thus suspiciously sacrilegious by normative Christianity.
While it may not be readily apparent at first, upon closer inspection we will see that ancient sacred texts and temple use are closely related.
While the rest of Christianity contented itself solely with the Bible, Joseph Smith endeavored to establish the Book of Mormon as an equally important ancient, sacred record. Indeed, he tried to impress on modern Christianity the value of ancient records, beyond the Bible, to the practice of true religion.
Public interest in things from Egyptian antiquity has always been high, but it was far more than mere curiosity that compelled the latter-day prophet to purchase the Egyptian papyri that ultimately resulted in the Pearl of Great Price and the facsimiles therein.
At present, much is written and said by Latter-day Saints about the Book of Mormon, its origins in antiquity and its advent in modern times via angelic ministrations. Surprisingly, little dialog is devoted to the Pearl of Great Price, even less to the Egyptian elements found therein to which Joseph devoted considerable time and effort. Perhaps that is so because it deals with some topics — stars, planets and moons — that seem largely foreign to religion, as is commonly supposed, topics that seem better suited to cosmology, astronomy or archeology. In fact, Joseph Smith and the church he founded have taken criticism from both science and religion over the years because he ventured into these areas.
Astral bodies, stars, planets and moons, are seldom foremost in the minds of Latter-day Saints when contemplating the gospel. Indeed, modern Christianity as a whole has long since divested itself of nearly all such references since discussions of such objects is more typically thought to be the purview of either ancient pagan religions or modern science. Ministers and evangelists in Joseph Smith’s day were horrified by the prophet’s penchant for discussing such things in the context of the gospel. The stigma of being a "cult," attached to Mormonism by orthodox Christianity, stems partly from these associations.
All this begs the question that nearly all Saints avoid: What seemed so vital about documents from the Egyptian culture and its religion that a prophet of God would dedicate so much time and effort to explaining their meaning and symbolism, as seen in the Pearl of Great Price facsimiles? One can easily appreciate the value of translating the books of Moses, Enoch and Abraham for the doctrines contained therein, but what value can be gleaned from studying Egyptian hieroglyphs? Did Joseph include them simply to establish his credentials as a bona fide translator of ancient texts? Or was he pointing the way to a subject helpful in a thoroughgoing understanding of the gospel?
The answer to those questions may be provided by considering the other part of the equation cited at the outset of this article: modern temples.
The two primary temples of this era, the Nauvoo and the Salt Lake, were liberally decorated with icons of stars, planets and moons. This they have in common with both ancient texts and the temples of yesteryear, those erected by all ancient cultures. Those temples, too, were decorated with symbols of stars, planets and moons, along with illustrations of their gods, goddesses and a multitude of other religious icons peculiar to each culture.
Scholars readily acknowledge the strong and pervasive influence of astral beliefs at the heart of those ancient religions, reflected in the astronomical alignments and astrological references built into those edifices — from Angkor Wat to Tiahuanaco, from Teotiuacan to Stonehenge, from Karnak and the pyramids at Geza to Solomon’s temple and those erected by all Middle Eastern and Mediterranean cultures, including the Greeks and the Romans. They all venerated the heavens and the orbs they saw there. It is for that reason, for example, that our modern names for the planets come from the Roman pantheon.
Thus, the Prophet not only pointed to the use of astronomical imagery in ancient texts by exploring the meaning of the icons he found on the Egyptian papyri that came into his hands, he also employed similar astronomical imagery in modern temples. Indeed, as in ancient temples, it is astral imagery that almost exclusively dominates modern temple iconography. In so doing, Joseph Smith, and Brigham Young after him, simply authenticated or validated the connection between the restored gospel and ancient cosmological beliefs.
The iconography and rhetorical imagery of the restored gospel stand side by side with those of ancient cultures as reflected in their writings and their art.
All this is as it should be if, as Joseph Smith maintained, his was a restoration of the original gospel, which was taught universally by inspired prophets anciently. The true religion should retain and display those same ancient traditions, rhetoric and icons.
But it also suggests an extraordinary value in studying ancient history to understand what the ancients knew and what a modern prophet knew about the past that compelled them to make astral iconography, past and present, an integral part of religion and temple iconography. After all, such imagery is not employed simply to keep authors and artisans busy writing and chiseling.
Perhaps the clue as to why knowledge of the heavens is a vital part of the true religion and how that knowledge spawned a multitude of icons in ancient cultures the world over can be found in several passages of scripture, each of which say essentially the same thing: the heavens and the earth we know now are not the heavens and earth the ancients knew; and conversely the heavens and the earth we know now will be replaced by "new heavens and a new earth." (Isaiah 65:17; 2 Peter 3:7, 13; Revelation 2:21, Ether 13:9; Doctrine & Covenants 29:23.)
Such dramatic language suggests radical changes in our solar system anciently. These sweeping and dynamic changes would have caused tremendous natural disasters, paroxysms of nature, wiping out large populations and dramatically altering Earth’s environment — changes that would have left few survivors to experience entirely "new heavens and a new earth," changes that compelled the ancients to make these dramatic sky shows the entire focus of their religious and cultural traditions.
Indeed, one school of thought suggests that the ancients were consumed with rehearsing the celestial drama that brought about those sweeping changes, that they made every attempt to preserve that knowledge in rite, ritual, architecture, art, text and religion since they considered it sacred as well as historical.
This would explain the compulsive use of cosmological imagery in ancient temples by their builders. Temples were specifically designed by the ancients to reflect, recall and reconstruct a lost cosmology, one that existed before the heavens and the earth suffered dramatic, sweeping changes.
Thanks to revelation and Joseph's prodigious appetite for knowledge, he must have learned all the ancients knew - including the Earth's true history. Naturally, he incorporated this perspective in the restoration, it's scriptures, it's doctrine and it's most sacred sites. Thus, our modern temples become living repositories of ancient wisdom and tradition, as well as venues for making sacred covenants.
This view would also explain the admixture of two distinct cosmologies seen in those same edifices, leading to confusion among modern LDS scholars about their meanings and use. Temple iconography juxtaposed the present cosmology and that of the past, combining both in one presentation. To those who understood the profound transformation in the heavens and the earth anciently, such juxtaposition was proper and correct, not confusing and mysterious. Only modern man, divested of his cosmological heritage, would be perplexed by this coincidence.
And those two facts explain why a modern prophet would resurrect the use of that same imagery in modern temples, they being a restoration of ancient convention.
The marvel and the tragedy is that we, the modern saints, have confused, denied and ultimately rejected that part of the record bequeathed us, that we consider it mere exaggerated myth and legend. Even the inspired efforts of a latter-day prophet to bring these ideas to light have gone largely ignored by those who practice the very religion he founded.
The fact that Latter-day Saints almost universally discount such a possibility, even though statements of their prophet, their revealed scriptures and their temple iconography indicate otherwise, reveals a fatal flaw in their comprehension of the legacy they inherited from Joseph Smith in the magnificent revelation that comprises this latter-day restoration of the gospel.
© Anthony E. Larson, 2002
While it may not be readily apparent at first, upon closer inspection we will see that ancient sacred texts and temple use are closely related.
While the rest of Christianity contented itself solely with the Bible, Joseph Smith endeavored to establish the Book of Mormon as an equally important ancient, sacred record. Indeed, he tried to impress on modern Christianity the value of ancient records, beyond the Bible, to the practice of true religion.
Public interest in things from Egyptian antiquity has always been high, but it was far more than mere curiosity that compelled the latter-day prophet to purchase the Egyptian papyri that ultimately resulted in the Pearl of Great Price and the facsimiles therein.
At present, much is written and said by Latter-day Saints about the Book of Mormon, its origins in antiquity and its advent in modern times via angelic ministrations. Surprisingly, little dialog is devoted to the Pearl of Great Price, even less to the Egyptian elements found therein to which Joseph devoted considerable time and effort. Perhaps that is so because it deals with some topics — stars, planets and moons — that seem largely foreign to religion, as is commonly supposed, topics that seem better suited to cosmology, astronomy or archeology. In fact, Joseph Smith and the church he founded have taken criticism from both science and religion over the years because he ventured into these areas.
Astral bodies, stars, planets and moons, are seldom foremost in the minds of Latter-day Saints when contemplating the gospel. Indeed, modern Christianity as a whole has long since divested itself of nearly all such references since discussions of such objects is more typically thought to be the purview of either ancient pagan religions or modern science. Ministers and evangelists in Joseph Smith’s day were horrified by the prophet’s penchant for discussing such things in the context of the gospel. The stigma of being a "cult," attached to Mormonism by orthodox Christianity, stems partly from these associations.
All this begs the question that nearly all Saints avoid: What seemed so vital about documents from the Egyptian culture and its religion that a prophet of God would dedicate so much time and effort to explaining their meaning and symbolism, as seen in the Pearl of Great Price facsimiles? One can easily appreciate the value of translating the books of Moses, Enoch and Abraham for the doctrines contained therein, but what value can be gleaned from studying Egyptian hieroglyphs? Did Joseph include them simply to establish his credentials as a bona fide translator of ancient texts? Or was he pointing the way to a subject helpful in a thoroughgoing understanding of the gospel?
The answer to those questions may be provided by considering the other part of the equation cited at the outset of this article: modern temples.
The two primary temples of this era, the Nauvoo and the Salt Lake, were liberally decorated with icons of stars, planets and moons. This they have in common with both ancient texts and the temples of yesteryear, those erected by all ancient cultures. Those temples, too, were decorated with symbols of stars, planets and moons, along with illustrations of their gods, goddesses and a multitude of other religious icons peculiar to each culture.
Scholars readily acknowledge the strong and pervasive influence of astral beliefs at the heart of those ancient religions, reflected in the astronomical alignments and astrological references built into those edifices — from Angkor Wat to Tiahuanaco, from Teotiuacan to Stonehenge, from Karnak and the pyramids at Geza to Solomon’s temple and those erected by all Middle Eastern and Mediterranean cultures, including the Greeks and the Romans. They all venerated the heavens and the orbs they saw there. It is for that reason, for example, that our modern names for the planets come from the Roman pantheon.
Thus, the Prophet not only pointed to the use of astronomical imagery in ancient texts by exploring the meaning of the icons he found on the Egyptian papyri that came into his hands, he also employed similar astronomical imagery in modern temples. Indeed, as in ancient temples, it is astral imagery that almost exclusively dominates modern temple iconography. In so doing, Joseph Smith, and Brigham Young after him, simply authenticated or validated the connection between the restored gospel and ancient cosmological beliefs.
The iconography and rhetorical imagery of the restored gospel stand side by side with those of ancient cultures as reflected in their writings and their art.
All this is as it should be if, as Joseph Smith maintained, his was a restoration of the original gospel, which was taught universally by inspired prophets anciently. The true religion should retain and display those same ancient traditions, rhetoric and icons.
But it also suggests an extraordinary value in studying ancient history to understand what the ancients knew and what a modern prophet knew about the past that compelled them to make astral iconography, past and present, an integral part of religion and temple iconography. After all, such imagery is not employed simply to keep authors and artisans busy writing and chiseling.
Perhaps the clue as to why knowledge of the heavens is a vital part of the true religion and how that knowledge spawned a multitude of icons in ancient cultures the world over can be found in several passages of scripture, each of which say essentially the same thing: the heavens and the earth we know now are not the heavens and earth the ancients knew; and conversely the heavens and the earth we know now will be replaced by "new heavens and a new earth." (Isaiah 65:17; 2 Peter 3:7, 13; Revelation 2:21, Ether 13:9; Doctrine & Covenants 29:23.)
Such dramatic language suggests radical changes in our solar system anciently. These sweeping and dynamic changes would have caused tremendous natural disasters, paroxysms of nature, wiping out large populations and dramatically altering Earth’s environment — changes that would have left few survivors to experience entirely "new heavens and a new earth," changes that compelled the ancients to make these dramatic sky shows the entire focus of their religious and cultural traditions.
Indeed, one school of thought suggests that the ancients were consumed with rehearsing the celestial drama that brought about those sweeping changes, that they made every attempt to preserve that knowledge in rite, ritual, architecture, art, text and religion since they considered it sacred as well as historical.
This would explain the compulsive use of cosmological imagery in ancient temples by their builders. Temples were specifically designed by the ancients to reflect, recall and reconstruct a lost cosmology, one that existed before the heavens and the earth suffered dramatic, sweeping changes.
Thanks to revelation and Joseph's prodigious appetite for knowledge, he must have learned all the ancients knew - including the Earth's true history. Naturally, he incorporated this perspective in the restoration, it's scriptures, it's doctrine and it's most sacred sites. Thus, our modern temples become living repositories of ancient wisdom and tradition, as well as venues for making sacred covenants.
This view would also explain the admixture of two distinct cosmologies seen in those same edifices, leading to confusion among modern LDS scholars about their meanings and use. Temple iconography juxtaposed the present cosmology and that of the past, combining both in one presentation. To those who understood the profound transformation in the heavens and the earth anciently, such juxtaposition was proper and correct, not confusing and mysterious. Only modern man, divested of his cosmological heritage, would be perplexed by this coincidence.
And those two facts explain why a modern prophet would resurrect the use of that same imagery in modern temples, they being a restoration of ancient convention.
The marvel and the tragedy is that we, the modern saints, have confused, denied and ultimately rejected that part of the record bequeathed us, that we consider it mere exaggerated myth and legend. Even the inspired efforts of a latter-day prophet to bring these ideas to light have gone largely ignored by those who practice the very religion he founded.
The fact that Latter-day Saints almost universally discount such a possibility, even though statements of their prophet, their revealed scriptures and their temple iconography indicate otherwise, reveals a fatal flaw in their comprehension of the legacy they inherited from Joseph Smith in the magnificent revelation that comprises this latter-day restoration of the gospel.
© Anthony E. Larson, 2002
Thursday, July 31, 2008
Children of the Light?
Latter-day Saints' opinion on the subject of potential planetary near impacts, past and present, differs little from that of the general public. Sadly, most Mormons seem as indifferent to this concept as their secular and sectarian contemporaries. Yet, it probably should not be so.
Joseph Smith clearly held a catastrophist view of history and prophecy that included disasters originating in the heavens, which would have had devastating effects here on Earth. Speaking of the Second Coming, he said, "It is not the design of the Almighty to come upon the Earth and crush it and grind it to powder . . . ." (History of the Church, 5:337.) These words are not those of a gradualist or uniformitarian. They bespeak a catastrophist point of view. It is well established by this author that Joseph Smith's teachings on past and future events are patently catastrophist. (See The Prophecy Trilogy, Vol. 3, Ch. 1.) Given that fact, why are so many Latter-day Saints loath to accept this interpretation of history and prophecy? For the answer to that question, we will have to examine history.
Abandoning our roots
The restoration of the gospel began at the same time as a revolution in geology and biology. Popular opinion in Joseph Smith's day held that the Creation and Noah's Flood had largely shaped the world. Today they would be called creationists. Geologists like Hutton and Lyell disputed that view, noting that a rational interpretation of the geologic record argued for a very old planet altered only by slow processes over eons of time. They were gradualists.
In Joseph Smith's day, the gradualists were a minority, but by the latter half of the 19th century, the scientific and academic communities had spurned creationism and catastrophism to embrace gradualism completely. The general public was somewhat slower to shift opinion. Still, by the turn of the century, gradualism dominated the thought of the general public since it was, by that time, the only way the subject was taught in almost all academic settings.
Mormons in flux
This ideological shift presented a problem to Mormons who were in the process of trying to integrate with the larger American culture. Historically, the church and the government had been at odds, as any student of early church history knows. The Saints' exodus to the Great Salt Lake Valley originally put them outside the confines of the United States. However, they eventually found themselves once again within its boarders due to the westward expansion of the nation. This left the Saints with a difficult decision: move yet again, just as they had left Jackson County and then Nauvoo, leaving behind another city and temple erected from raw land, or accommodate the laws and cultural standards of the United States so they could keep their new desert home. The decision to remain and conform prevailed, and the Saints undertook the daunting task—-as history records that painful adversarial process—-of qualifying for statehood and citizenship.
To diminish tension and facilitate the process, Mormons sought to emphasize cultural similarities with the rest of America and suppress dissimilarities in hopes of reducing the antagonism of earlier days. This, they trusted, would help avoid further confrontations—-like the Johnston's Army incident, for example—-and ease tensions so that the church could finally put down permanent roots and better carry out its revealed mandate to preach the gospel.
Like the larger American population, the Mormons eventually embraced gradualism and for much the same reasons. Even though the position of the Prophet and early church members had been catastrophist, Mormons eventually found the idea of gradualism irresistible.
As a result, a new generation of Mormons did not entirely share their forefathers’ worldview because of the pressures from the greater society around them to conform to the common precepts taught by almost all educational institutions, including gradualism.
This ideological reversal on the Saints' part produced the desired effect. It opened doors to Mormons in American society that had formerly been closed, allowing them to pursue careers in politics, science and education; some eventually even attained tenure in prestigious institutions. There was now one less difference between Mormons and their American contemporaries.
A split personality
Yet, all this progress came at a price. The Saints' ideological shift to gradualism created an intellectual dichotomy in the 20th century. Their scriptures—-especially those new revelations that came with the restoration—-tell of a catastrophic Earth history. They also proclaim, emphatically and dramatically, a catastrophic future. Yet, the cultural beliefs Mormons had adopted to "fit in" with the rest of the Americans precluded such notions, categorically denying any such possibility.
This produced an intellectual dichotomy in the Saints’ worldview, creating a spiritual and academic scotoma that has only grown larger in the many years since.
This resulted in church members shifting ideological gears on a consistent basis. In a religious setting, they read and mouthed an ideology with catastrophist underpinnings; in a secular setting, such as the public and private educational system, they espoused the opposite ideology of gradualism. This has endured, strangely, to the present. It has become institutionalized, resulting in a sort of intellectual and religious schizophrenia.
In addition, there may have been one other, even more profound loss: Mormons no longer understood their scriptures as they were meant to be understood. While Joseph Smith's interpretation of prophecy and history may not seem essential to our salvation, it performs a vital function in our interpretation of revealed knowledge. Revelation regarding past or future events comes from a perspective that acknowledges the role of planetary catastrophes in Earth's past, present and future. The language of the prophets is steeped in it. So, if our paradigm does not include this perspective, we have no frame of reference with which to completely understand the revelation.
This is what the Apostle Peter meant when he wrote, "Knowing this first, that no prophecy of the scripture is of any private interpretation. For the prophecy came not in old time by the will of man: but holy men of God spake as they were moved by the Holy Ghost." (2 Peter 1:20,21.) If the parties involved in any exchange do not share a common understanding—if one is a gradualist and the other a catastrophist—there will be a fundamental misunderstanding in the exchange of information. They do not share a common view, background or experience. Therefore, they do not interpret the data, information or truths, in the same way. Hence, there can be no "private interpretation" of the scriptures or prophecy. Both parties must have the same frame of reference. The fallible "will of man," or opinion of man, will only lead to misunderstanding.
To correctly understand the scriptures, prophecy or revelation itself, one must have the same frame of reference as the text itself, which is catastrophist. Thus, it may be that this paradigm shift in the last century left Mormons incapable of properly interpreting what had been given them by revelation regarding historic and prophetic events.
A systematic method of interpretation
The systematic method for interpreting historic and prophetic events, given us by Joseph Smith, is based on symbolism. (See The Prophecy Trilogy, Vol. 1, Ch. 3, for a list of such metaphors and their origins.) This puts the prophet squarely in the center of ancient prophetic tradition. In both the revelations he communicated to us and in the sermons he gave, Joseph used these symbols correctly and consistently.
For example, history speaks of water turning to blood, of stars falling from the heavens, of migrating seas and oceans. Knowing what has occurred in the past to give birth to such descriptive metaphorical phrases, one can determine what is meant by the same metaphor in another context—-prophecy, for example. That knowledge allows a consistent system of interpretation, rather than the extravagant guesswork and speculation engaged in by most scriptural exegetes. It also acknowledges a celestial origin for most religious iconography, ritual and metaphor.
The two faces of symbolism
Such symbolism has two aspects or facets: one literal, the other metaphorical. The literal aspect in the water-turned-to-blood example refers to a time in the past when Earth's waters were polluted by exogenous, ferriferous dust. Its use in prophecy refers to a repeat of this phenomenon. Its metaphorical aspect is simply a rhetorical, poetic representation of a physical event or phenomenon. The water does not turn into anything, much less blood. Such is the nature of all metaphor.
This aspect is also a reflection of the ancient mind that turned to dramatic imagery in order to describe the inexplicable. This does not imply that the ancients were somehow less intelligent, that they could not discern the reality in what they saw. Indeed, some—-Plato, for example, or Mormon—-clearly grasped the true nature of catastrophic events and so described them. (See Helaman 12: 8-17.) However, the extraordinary nature of the events ensured that most of the time they would be characterized in symbolic terms, as opposed to analytical terms. The colorful nature of metaphor is always more dramatic and appealing than cold, dispassionate analysis. In any case, the imagery of past catastrophes captured the imagination of the masses, leading to its widespread adoption and use.
The past is the key
It is vital that one have a firm grasp of the events and conditions in antiquity that produced gospel symbolism. The Lord alluded to that fact when he revealed that ". . . truth is knowledge of things as they are, and as they were, and as they are to come." (Doctrine & Covenants 93:24.) The intimate relationship between past, present and future events implied here must be recognized in order to correctly understand the truth when it is presented. This tripartite concept (past = present = future) is often repeated in the scriptures, especially in prophecy.
Undoubtedly, one of the functions of the School of the Prophets, if not the primary function, was educating the brethren in the many prophetic metaphors and symbols employed anciently, their variations, elaborations, their proper application and interpretation. By teaching the systematic interpretation of scriptural metaphors, religious rituals and iconography, the prophet ensured that the priesthood brethren understood their proper use and interpretation. They could interpret this symbolism wherever they came across it and not be misled by doctrinal distortions.
Equipped with this knowledge, any Latter-day Saint can also see that temple and religious iconography is the physical counterpart to rhetorical metaphor. That is to say, the metaphor reflects the meaning of the icon and the icon reflects the meaning of the metaphor. Those things depicted in religious art, architecture, rite and ritual, can also be found in religious rhetoric.
Knowledge: a key to discernment
Indeed, this is one of the keys used to discern a false prophet in a day and age when the meaning of these symbols and metaphors is largely unknown. Because a false prophet is not schooled in the knowledge of these things, he or she lacks the ability to properly use and interpret such symbolism and metaphor. Thus, the pretender's "revelations" and teachings lack these elements. They fail to properly employ the time-honored literary devices known to all true prophets because they are ignorant of the iconography of antiquity. Hence, they interpret prophecy no differently than any run-of-the-mill evangelical exegete.
For much the same reason, the apostate who has turned against the true religion can be a threat. Once intimately schooled in this knowledge of symbolism, the perpetrator has the power to do tremendous damage because he or she can deceive even the "elect," or those who know these symbols and their proper use.
This, too, is an excellent test for a true prophet: He will employ this symbolism properly and in a manner consistent with ancient tradition. While only the whisperings of the Spirit can completely confirm a prophet's claim to revelation, this is additional, intellectual confirmation, if you will. A true prophet will easily and correctly employ traditional, scriptural symbolism in his teachings, and that symbolism will certainly be present in all revelation he passes along to the Saints. In this respect, as in every other, Joseph Smith passed the test successfully.
Left to their own devices
Once the Saints had abandoned Joseph Smith's symbolism-based interpretation of scripture and prophecy, a vacuum appeared in their theology. They no longer had a yardstick or touchstone for interpreting most gospel symbolism. Since nature abhors a vacuum, a ready replacement was soon found in the eschatological thinking of sectarian Christianity. Mormonism, therefore, has largely adopted the prophetic interpretation of sectarian Evangelism, epitomized today by the writings of Hal Lindsay in his book, The Late, Great Planet Earth, or the teachings of Herbert W. Armstrong, a popular millennialist and radio evangelist of the 1950s, in his radio program, "The World Tomorrow." One can see evidence of this when comparing the views of the aforementioned evangelists with those of recent Mormon writers Cleon Skousen and Dwane Crowther. As one aphorism has it, "There ain't a dimes bit of difference between 'em."
Hence, we find Mormons generally interpreting prophetic utterances, ancient and modern, in remarkably similar ways to their evangelical, Christian cousins: metaphor is made literal and symbol is made modern. This leads to gross distortions in the interpretation of prophecy. For example, consider the unfounded interpretation of the year 2000 as the date for the second coming or the obsession with the number 666. It also leads to the creation of fictitious characters such as the Antichrist and fictitious events such as the Rapture. It seems apparent to this author that we may have allowed harmful sectarian notions to find their way into our catechism, just as Elder McConkie repeatedly warned before his death.
Time to reevaluate
Given all the recent discoveries coming out of the sciences regarding impacts and the prophetic warnings that repeatedly forewarn us of spectacular celestial events before the Second Coming, would it not be prudent for Latter-day Saints to reexamine our views? Would it not be wise for us to acknowledge, as modern science already has, that such things may happen? Should we not want to return to our roots in catastrophism, given us by Joseph Smith? If it was once our desire to conform to a trend that led us to abandon our catastrophist base, then why not conform to the newest trend of science, neocatastrophism, in order to return to our former beliefs?
Signs, ancient and modern, in the heavens
When we consider the magnitude and import of seeing the Shoemaker/Levi comet impact giant Jupiter in our own time, one wonders if this astronomical visual aid might not have been God's way of making a point. Was it done merely to amaze or amuse us? Was it done to keep the astronomers, scientists and scholars busy? Or was it, indeed, a sign, meant to awaken us from our apathetic complacency about the times we live in and the planet we live on? Should not Latter-day Saints be the first to recognize this?
The Nephites were given a sign of the Savior's birth. “. . . for behold, at the going down of the sun there was no darkness; . . . . And it came to pass that there was no darkness in all that night, but it was as light as though it was mid-day. And it came to pass that the sun did rise in the morning again, according to its proper order; and they knew that it was the day that the Lord should be born, because of the sign which had been given. . . .
“And it came to pass also that a new star did appear, according to the word.” (3 Nephi 1:15, 19,21.)
Thus, we see that God used the heavens, a celestial canvas, upon which to paint the sign of his Son's advent.
Recent history has given us a rather remarkable sign of our own. “On July 16, 1994, the first fragment of Comet Shoemaker-Levy 9 entered Jupiter's stratosphere traveling at the speed of 60 kilometers per second—-that's about 134,000 miles per hour. Seconds later it exploded. A plume of shock-heated cometary material mixed with hot gases from Jupiter's atmosphere soared more than two thousand miles above the tops of Jupiter's clouds. As material from the plume fell back into the stratosphere of Jupiter, it left a large, crescent-shaped dark spot partly surrounding a smaller intense dark cloud that formed along the entry path of the comet.
“Two days later, Fragment G hit Jupiter with such force that its plume was, in some wavelengths of observation, fifty times brighter than the entire planet. By the end of impact week, Jupiter was bruised with the markings of 21 impacts, dark scars larger than Earth. Not in the 400-year history of the telescope has any planet displayed such dramatic new features. Nine months after the impact ended, Jupiter's southern hemisphere was graced with a belt of dark material, still easily visible through small telescopes.
“We are only now beginning to grasp the magnitude of what has happened.” (Cosmic Collisions, pp. 6, 7, from the foreword by David H. Levy and Carolyn & Eugene Shoemaker.)
Was the impact of a comet with Jupiter in our time any less of a sign than that given to the Nephites? The intent of that sign was to verify that, as Samuel the Lamanite had prophesied, the Son of God had been born. Could it be that the Shoemaker/Levi event was a demonstration to a disbelieving world—-Mormons in particular—-that such things can happen—-indeed, will happen—-to us?
Certainly, it was a verification of assertions by this author, the scriptures, the prophets and a multitude of modern catastrophists that such things do happen; that we live in an uncertain solar system that has seen numerous cosmic disasters in historic times; that old assumptions about a steady-state Earth wherein ". . . all things continue as they were from the beginning of the creation . . ." (2 Peter 3:5.) are flawed; that we have been "willingly ignorant" in this enlightened, modern age, of the truths that the ancients sought to preserve in ritual and stone; that ". . . the world that then was, being overflowed with water, perished: But the heavens and the Earth, which are now . . . are kept in store, reserved unto fire against the day of judgment . . . ." (Ibid. 3:5, 6.)
As Latter-day Saints who have been given the restored gospel, we have a greater obligation to recognize and receive these things than does the rest of the world. Are we not designated as the “children of the light?”
© Anthony E. Larson, 2003
Joseph Smith clearly held a catastrophist view of history and prophecy that included disasters originating in the heavens, which would have had devastating effects here on Earth. Speaking of the Second Coming, he said, "It is not the design of the Almighty to come upon the Earth and crush it and grind it to powder . . . ." (History of the Church, 5:337.) These words are not those of a gradualist or uniformitarian. They bespeak a catastrophist point of view. It is well established by this author that Joseph Smith's teachings on past and future events are patently catastrophist. (See The Prophecy Trilogy, Vol. 3, Ch. 1.) Given that fact, why are so many Latter-day Saints loath to accept this interpretation of history and prophecy? For the answer to that question, we will have to examine history.
Abandoning our roots
The restoration of the gospel began at the same time as a revolution in geology and biology. Popular opinion in Joseph Smith's day held that the Creation and Noah's Flood had largely shaped the world. Today they would be called creationists. Geologists like Hutton and Lyell disputed that view, noting that a rational interpretation of the geologic record argued for a very old planet altered only by slow processes over eons of time. They were gradualists.
In Joseph Smith's day, the gradualists were a minority, but by the latter half of the 19th century, the scientific and academic communities had spurned creationism and catastrophism to embrace gradualism completely. The general public was somewhat slower to shift opinion. Still, by the turn of the century, gradualism dominated the thought of the general public since it was, by that time, the only way the subject was taught in almost all academic settings.
Mormons in flux
This ideological shift presented a problem to Mormons who were in the process of trying to integrate with the larger American culture. Historically, the church and the government had been at odds, as any student of early church history knows. The Saints' exodus to the Great Salt Lake Valley originally put them outside the confines of the United States. However, they eventually found themselves once again within its boarders due to the westward expansion of the nation. This left the Saints with a difficult decision: move yet again, just as they had left Jackson County and then Nauvoo, leaving behind another city and temple erected from raw land, or accommodate the laws and cultural standards of the United States so they could keep their new desert home. The decision to remain and conform prevailed, and the Saints undertook the daunting task—-as history records that painful adversarial process—-of qualifying for statehood and citizenship.
To diminish tension and facilitate the process, Mormons sought to emphasize cultural similarities with the rest of America and suppress dissimilarities in hopes of reducing the antagonism of earlier days. This, they trusted, would help avoid further confrontations—-like the Johnston's Army incident, for example—-and ease tensions so that the church could finally put down permanent roots and better carry out its revealed mandate to preach the gospel.
Like the larger American population, the Mormons eventually embraced gradualism and for much the same reasons. Even though the position of the Prophet and early church members had been catastrophist, Mormons eventually found the idea of gradualism irresistible.
As a result, a new generation of Mormons did not entirely share their forefathers’ worldview because of the pressures from the greater society around them to conform to the common precepts taught by almost all educational institutions, including gradualism.
This ideological reversal on the Saints' part produced the desired effect. It opened doors to Mormons in American society that had formerly been closed, allowing them to pursue careers in politics, science and education; some eventually even attained tenure in prestigious institutions. There was now one less difference between Mormons and their American contemporaries.
A split personality
Yet, all this progress came at a price. The Saints' ideological shift to gradualism created an intellectual dichotomy in the 20th century. Their scriptures—-especially those new revelations that came with the restoration—-tell of a catastrophic Earth history. They also proclaim, emphatically and dramatically, a catastrophic future. Yet, the cultural beliefs Mormons had adopted to "fit in" with the rest of the Americans precluded such notions, categorically denying any such possibility.
This produced an intellectual dichotomy in the Saints’ worldview, creating a spiritual and academic scotoma that has only grown larger in the many years since.
This resulted in church members shifting ideological gears on a consistent basis. In a religious setting, they read and mouthed an ideology with catastrophist underpinnings; in a secular setting, such as the public and private educational system, they espoused the opposite ideology of gradualism. This has endured, strangely, to the present. It has become institutionalized, resulting in a sort of intellectual and religious schizophrenia.
In addition, there may have been one other, even more profound loss: Mormons no longer understood their scriptures as they were meant to be understood. While Joseph Smith's interpretation of prophecy and history may not seem essential to our salvation, it performs a vital function in our interpretation of revealed knowledge. Revelation regarding past or future events comes from a perspective that acknowledges the role of planetary catastrophes in Earth's past, present and future. The language of the prophets is steeped in it. So, if our paradigm does not include this perspective, we have no frame of reference with which to completely understand the revelation.
This is what the Apostle Peter meant when he wrote, "Knowing this first, that no prophecy of the scripture is of any private interpretation. For the prophecy came not in old time by the will of man: but holy men of God spake as they were moved by the Holy Ghost." (2 Peter 1:20,21.) If the parties involved in any exchange do not share a common understanding—if one is a gradualist and the other a catastrophist—there will be a fundamental misunderstanding in the exchange of information. They do not share a common view, background or experience. Therefore, they do not interpret the data, information or truths, in the same way. Hence, there can be no "private interpretation" of the scriptures or prophecy. Both parties must have the same frame of reference. The fallible "will of man," or opinion of man, will only lead to misunderstanding.
To correctly understand the scriptures, prophecy or revelation itself, one must have the same frame of reference as the text itself, which is catastrophist. Thus, it may be that this paradigm shift in the last century left Mormons incapable of properly interpreting what had been given them by revelation regarding historic and prophetic events.
A systematic method of interpretation
The systematic method for interpreting historic and prophetic events, given us by Joseph Smith, is based on symbolism. (See The Prophecy Trilogy, Vol. 1, Ch. 3, for a list of such metaphors and their origins.) This puts the prophet squarely in the center of ancient prophetic tradition. In both the revelations he communicated to us and in the sermons he gave, Joseph used these symbols correctly and consistently.
For example, history speaks of water turning to blood, of stars falling from the heavens, of migrating seas and oceans. Knowing what has occurred in the past to give birth to such descriptive metaphorical phrases, one can determine what is meant by the same metaphor in another context—-prophecy, for example. That knowledge allows a consistent system of interpretation, rather than the extravagant guesswork and speculation engaged in by most scriptural exegetes. It also acknowledges a celestial origin for most religious iconography, ritual and metaphor.
The two faces of symbolism
Such symbolism has two aspects or facets: one literal, the other metaphorical. The literal aspect in the water-turned-to-blood example refers to a time in the past when Earth's waters were polluted by exogenous, ferriferous dust. Its use in prophecy refers to a repeat of this phenomenon. Its metaphorical aspect is simply a rhetorical, poetic representation of a physical event or phenomenon. The water does not turn into anything, much less blood. Such is the nature of all metaphor.
This aspect is also a reflection of the ancient mind that turned to dramatic imagery in order to describe the inexplicable. This does not imply that the ancients were somehow less intelligent, that they could not discern the reality in what they saw. Indeed, some—-Plato, for example, or Mormon—-clearly grasped the true nature of catastrophic events and so described them. (See Helaman 12: 8-17.) However, the extraordinary nature of the events ensured that most of the time they would be characterized in symbolic terms, as opposed to analytical terms. The colorful nature of metaphor is always more dramatic and appealing than cold, dispassionate analysis. In any case, the imagery of past catastrophes captured the imagination of the masses, leading to its widespread adoption and use.
The past is the key
It is vital that one have a firm grasp of the events and conditions in antiquity that produced gospel symbolism. The Lord alluded to that fact when he revealed that ". . . truth is knowledge of things as they are, and as they were, and as they are to come." (Doctrine & Covenants 93:24.) The intimate relationship between past, present and future events implied here must be recognized in order to correctly understand the truth when it is presented. This tripartite concept (past = present = future) is often repeated in the scriptures, especially in prophecy.
Undoubtedly, one of the functions of the School of the Prophets, if not the primary function, was educating the brethren in the many prophetic metaphors and symbols employed anciently, their variations, elaborations, their proper application and interpretation. By teaching the systematic interpretation of scriptural metaphors, religious rituals and iconography, the prophet ensured that the priesthood brethren understood their proper use and interpretation. They could interpret this symbolism wherever they came across it and not be misled by doctrinal distortions.
Equipped with this knowledge, any Latter-day Saint can also see that temple and religious iconography is the physical counterpart to rhetorical metaphor. That is to say, the metaphor reflects the meaning of the icon and the icon reflects the meaning of the metaphor. Those things depicted in religious art, architecture, rite and ritual, can also be found in religious rhetoric.
Knowledge: a key to discernment
Indeed, this is one of the keys used to discern a false prophet in a day and age when the meaning of these symbols and metaphors is largely unknown. Because a false prophet is not schooled in the knowledge of these things, he or she lacks the ability to properly use and interpret such symbolism and metaphor. Thus, the pretender's "revelations" and teachings lack these elements. They fail to properly employ the time-honored literary devices known to all true prophets because they are ignorant of the iconography of antiquity. Hence, they interpret prophecy no differently than any run-of-the-mill evangelical exegete.
For much the same reason, the apostate who has turned against the true religion can be a threat. Once intimately schooled in this knowledge of symbolism, the perpetrator has the power to do tremendous damage because he or she can deceive even the "elect," or those who know these symbols and their proper use.
This, too, is an excellent test for a true prophet: He will employ this symbolism properly and in a manner consistent with ancient tradition. While only the whisperings of the Spirit can completely confirm a prophet's claim to revelation, this is additional, intellectual confirmation, if you will. A true prophet will easily and correctly employ traditional, scriptural symbolism in his teachings, and that symbolism will certainly be present in all revelation he passes along to the Saints. In this respect, as in every other, Joseph Smith passed the test successfully.
Left to their own devices
Once the Saints had abandoned Joseph Smith's symbolism-based interpretation of scripture and prophecy, a vacuum appeared in their theology. They no longer had a yardstick or touchstone for interpreting most gospel symbolism. Since nature abhors a vacuum, a ready replacement was soon found in the eschatological thinking of sectarian Christianity. Mormonism, therefore, has largely adopted the prophetic interpretation of sectarian Evangelism, epitomized today by the writings of Hal Lindsay in his book, The Late, Great Planet Earth, or the teachings of Herbert W. Armstrong, a popular millennialist and radio evangelist of the 1950s, in his radio program, "The World Tomorrow." One can see evidence of this when comparing the views of the aforementioned evangelists with those of recent Mormon writers Cleon Skousen and Dwane Crowther. As one aphorism has it, "There ain't a dimes bit of difference between 'em."
Hence, we find Mormons generally interpreting prophetic utterances, ancient and modern, in remarkably similar ways to their evangelical, Christian cousins: metaphor is made literal and symbol is made modern. This leads to gross distortions in the interpretation of prophecy. For example, consider the unfounded interpretation of the year 2000 as the date for the second coming or the obsession with the number 666. It also leads to the creation of fictitious characters such as the Antichrist and fictitious events such as the Rapture. It seems apparent to this author that we may have allowed harmful sectarian notions to find their way into our catechism, just as Elder McConkie repeatedly warned before his death.
Time to reevaluate
Given all the recent discoveries coming out of the sciences regarding impacts and the prophetic warnings that repeatedly forewarn us of spectacular celestial events before the Second Coming, would it not be prudent for Latter-day Saints to reexamine our views? Would it not be wise for us to acknowledge, as modern science already has, that such things may happen? Should we not want to return to our roots in catastrophism, given us by Joseph Smith? If it was once our desire to conform to a trend that led us to abandon our catastrophist base, then why not conform to the newest trend of science, neocatastrophism, in order to return to our former beliefs?
Signs, ancient and modern, in the heavens
When we consider the magnitude and import of seeing the Shoemaker/Levi comet impact giant Jupiter in our own time, one wonders if this astronomical visual aid might not have been God's way of making a point. Was it done merely to amaze or amuse us? Was it done to keep the astronomers, scientists and scholars busy? Or was it, indeed, a sign, meant to awaken us from our apathetic complacency about the times we live in and the planet we live on? Should not Latter-day Saints be the first to recognize this?
The Nephites were given a sign of the Savior's birth. “. . . for behold, at the going down of the sun there was no darkness; . . . . And it came to pass that there was no darkness in all that night, but it was as light as though it was mid-day. And it came to pass that the sun did rise in the morning again, according to its proper order; and they knew that it was the day that the Lord should be born, because of the sign which had been given. . . .
“And it came to pass also that a new star did appear, according to the word.” (3 Nephi 1:15, 19,21.)
Thus, we see that God used the heavens, a celestial canvas, upon which to paint the sign of his Son's advent.
Recent history has given us a rather remarkable sign of our own. “On July 16, 1994, the first fragment of Comet Shoemaker-Levy 9 entered Jupiter's stratosphere traveling at the speed of 60 kilometers per second—-that's about 134,000 miles per hour. Seconds later it exploded. A plume of shock-heated cometary material mixed with hot gases from Jupiter's atmosphere soared more than two thousand miles above the tops of Jupiter's clouds. As material from the plume fell back into the stratosphere of Jupiter, it left a large, crescent-shaped dark spot partly surrounding a smaller intense dark cloud that formed along the entry path of the comet.
“Two days later, Fragment G hit Jupiter with such force that its plume was, in some wavelengths of observation, fifty times brighter than the entire planet. By the end of impact week, Jupiter was bruised with the markings of 21 impacts, dark scars larger than Earth. Not in the 400-year history of the telescope has any planet displayed such dramatic new features. Nine months after the impact ended, Jupiter's southern hemisphere was graced with a belt of dark material, still easily visible through small telescopes.
“We are only now beginning to grasp the magnitude of what has happened.” (Cosmic Collisions, pp. 6, 7, from the foreword by David H. Levy and Carolyn & Eugene Shoemaker.)
Was the impact of a comet with Jupiter in our time any less of a sign than that given to the Nephites? The intent of that sign was to verify that, as Samuel the Lamanite had prophesied, the Son of God had been born. Could it be that the Shoemaker/Levi event was a demonstration to a disbelieving world—-Mormons in particular—-that such things can happen—-indeed, will happen—-to us?
Certainly, it was a verification of assertions by this author, the scriptures, the prophets and a multitude of modern catastrophists that such things do happen; that we live in an uncertain solar system that has seen numerous cosmic disasters in historic times; that old assumptions about a steady-state Earth wherein ". . . all things continue as they were from the beginning of the creation . . ." (2 Peter 3:5.) are flawed; that we have been "willingly ignorant" in this enlightened, modern age, of the truths that the ancients sought to preserve in ritual and stone; that ". . . the world that then was, being overflowed with water, perished: But the heavens and the Earth, which are now . . . are kept in store, reserved unto fire against the day of judgment . . . ." (Ibid. 3:5, 6.)
As Latter-day Saints who have been given the restored gospel, we have a greater obligation to recognize and receive these things than does the rest of the world. Are we not designated as the “children of the light?”
© Anthony E. Larson, 2003
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