An odd thing happened in both religion and science on the way from the past to the present.
Historically speaking, it is well known and accepted that in the Middle Ages the Christian church was the principal sponsor of education in Western cultures. The church held a tight rein. If you wanted an education, you first became a cleric. Thus it was that most scientists and scholars, before the Renaissance, arose from among the clergy of the day. Their worldview was shaped almost entirely by church dogma.
The split
When the Protestant reformation movement began, which eventually gave us the plethora of modern religious sects we see around us today, its earliest leaders came from among those same clerical ranks — Martin Luther, for example. They sought to reform the institutions and dogma of Roman Catholicism.
Ironically, at about the same time, the scholars and scientists as well sought to extricate themselves from the mother church and its orthodox religious dogma, which hindered real intellectual progress. Like their religious cousins, they sought a complete divorce from Roman Catholicism. So in a very real sense, science was simply another religion, a radical protesting faction born of the same milieu that gave rise to Protestantism.
Both catastrophist
The new religions turned to Bible fundamentals for their belief system, hence the term fundamentalism. The new sciences, however, had to invent their own catechism. Secular universities were founded to educate adherents in the new orthodoxy of science and scholasticism. Skepticism and empiricism replaced faith. Yet, not surprisingly, the two new offspring, science and breakaway religion, retained a considerable amount of dogma from the parent church. At the outset, they both shared the Creationist vision (Earth’s creation in seven days, Man’s creation from the dust, the Deluge shaped the world as we se it, etc.). They also shared a similar eschatology: The world would end in a new holocaust sent by the Creator. Thus, it can be said that both were catastrophist.
Ideological ‘drift’
Over time, science further refined its liturgy and its curriculum with doctrines such as Gradualism and Natural Selection. The two institutions — science and religion — drifted further apart over time, becoming more antagonistic and confrontational. In the 19th century, science eventually became patently uniformitarian and evolutionist while religion remained dogmatically catastrophist and creationist.
Ironically, an evangelistic spirit arose in both religion and science, each seeking to win disciples through proselytism. Naturally, a dissension emerged between the two that had not existed as long as the parent church dominated. While they were both trolling the same waters for believers, religion and science each won their own following or ‘congregation,’ if you will. Religion primarily held the hearts of the laymen, while science largely captured the hearts of the intellectuals. To begin with, there were few with feet in both camps.
Furthermore, science divested itself of any eschatology, while religion embraced it more fervently than ever. “Hellfire and damnation” were the watchwords heard from the pulpits of Christendom. On the other hand, if there were to be an end to the world, the scholars declared, it would come not by a god, but by slow, prolonged entropy, Earth’s life failing only when the life-giving light of the sun finally flickered and died. The religionists, on the other hand, retained the fervent belief in the penultimate holocaust, the final, catastrophic destruction of the world and all in it at its creator’s hand.
A revolution in thought
Then the nuclear age dawned, bringing with it a revolution in thought and an astonishing meeting of the minds in both camps.
The first nuclear detonations at the end of World War II brought some agreement between science and religion about the world’s end. Increasingly, they both saw doomsday as a world-devastating nuclear holocaust. Science predicted that mankind would ultimately destroy himself with his own malevolent invention, detonating megatons of nuclear devices in a superpower showdown that would plunge the Earth into a “nuclear winter,” eradicating all life. Science had finally found its own eschatological ‘sacrament.’
Oddly, this also brought and about-face in religionists. They suddenly seemed to agree with the scientists. They saw the atomic bomb as fulfillment of the Bible’s prophesied “fire and brimstone” at world’s end. A revolutionary reversal in Biblical exegesis saw the religionists proclaim that mankind, not God, would be Apollyon, the destroyer. Man now had the power to single-handedly bring about Armageddon. God could sit on the sidelines, a celestial spectator to the end of the world!
A new catastrophism
In the midst of this atomic age rapture, an iconoclastic scholar resurrected Catastrophism, to the horror of both science and religion. Immanuel Velikovsky preached the catastrophic nature of the universe to an unbelieving audience in both camps. Science reacted violently, damning him at every opportunity. Religion, more tellingly, simply ignored him.
Given religion’s catastrophist roots, one might have expected it to embrace Velikovsky and the new Catastrophism to some degree. Instead (and this is the odd thing), religionists have largely ‘shunned’ the Neocatastrophism Velikovsky preached.
Make no mistake, though. When pressed on the issues and worth of Catastrophism, most religionists tend to become even more shrill and acrimonious in their denunciation of it and its proponents than do scientists. Otherwise, they ignore it as if it did not exist.
A view from catastrophe
Catastrophists will see that the new Catastrophism is a litmus test for religion as well as science. In the last century or so, religion has cast off its catastrophist ‘vestments’ to such a degree that it rejects catastrophists and their theories as readily as does science. Thus, in today’s world, catastrophists find themselves ‘excommunicated’ from both science and religion.
Catastrophists will attest that the symbolism of religious imagery and the simple truths of science are all enriched by Catastrophism. Without it, both institutions are awash in ‘strange doctrine’ and ‘strange science.’ Modern religion no longer comprehends the origins of its traditional and scriptural symbolism, iconography, rites and rituals. Modern science turns a blind eye to revelations of fact that would overturn its sacred orthodoxy.
None the wiser
Yet, it is also clear to some catastrophists that both institutions would profit immensely were they to seriously consider Catastrophism and all it implies for the world we live in. Religion could rediscover the richness of it planetary traditions without threatening its faith and humanitarianism. Science would discover a whole new universe out there without sacrificing its empiricism and objectivity. Imagine what might be accomplished.
Sadly, both science and religion have created their own, modern mythology: science to avoid that which it cannot explain, and religion to deny the “paganism” and ancient mythology from which most of its traditions sprang.
The Mormon catastrophist
Mormons are no exception to this rule. Joseph Smith and the early brethren were catastrophists. They lived during the heyday of 19th century Catastrophism, before the concepts of Uniformity and Gradualism were popularized. One need only read their expressions on creation, Earth’s early history and the last days to realize that they believed that the planetary powers, guided by their creator, were responsible for past catastrophes as well as those predicted in scripture for the future. Yet, it is also clear that the Prophet’s views in all things were not shaped by the times in which he lived, but by his exposure to revealed truth.
Given Joseph Smith’s position on the subject, it is rather strange that most modern Latter-day Saints are uncomfortable with Catastrophism. Perhaps it is because they have not taken the time to adequately school themselves in the beliefs and teachings of their founding prophet. In addition, it may be due to the fact that formal gospel training fails to touch on the subject, except in passing. Catastrophism and its attendant hypotheses are studiously avoided in church teaching manuals, and it is never addressed over the pulpit.
Mormons are Christians
It appears to this author that most Saints have been seduced by the same delusion that has afflicted our Christian cousins. We have abandoned our catastrophist roots because they make us uncomfortable when discussed in the context of religion. It all sounds too pagan, too naturalistic and too material; it seems to lack the spiritual element that religion should espouse. Instead, we have adopted the uniformitarian view of the world that science espouses, simply because it is popular. In addition, it gives our antagonists less ammunition to use against us in our struggle to assert our Christianity. That is to say, if all Christendom is uniformitarian, then we should be too in order to appear equally Christian.
Our loss is … our loss
Yet, so much is lost in our present approach. If our scriptures were written by prophets who experienced great catastrophes and celestial displays, if they related those experiences to the gospel and to their visions of the future by creating a unique lexicon of iconographic symbols and written imagery, if our founding prophet was, indeed, a catastrophist, then denying and ignoring that element in their teachings leaves us with a rather sanitized understanding of their pronouncements, prophetic and otherwise.
The rich imagery and symbolism of the scriptures and the gospel can only be truly fathomed by first obtaining the same mindset as those who wrote them. Relating the prophets’ imagery to the unique symbols left everywhere by the cultures they lived in brings a remarkable depth of understanding to prophetic pronouncements. How can we say we understand the gospel if we ignore this vital element?
Joseph Smith did not ignore it. He embraced it. He dedicated considerable time to understanding the Egyptian culture, religion and symbolism because it was closely related to those same elements employed by the Hebrew prophets. Like Abraham, Joseph, sought to restore the cosmological knowledge of our forefathers. That invaluable knowledge is composed of a discussion of planets, stars and the heavens.
Like the Joseph Smith, the creators of Egyptian documents were obsessed with a combination of gods and heavenly bodies, embellishing and re-illustrating them in countless repetitions and variations. The Pearl of Great Price is loaded with such stuff. What is more, the iconography of the ancient world has adorned every temple constructed in this dispensation. Its imagery may look and sound pagan, but the Prophet dedicated considerable time and effort to its exposition. That must mean that it has significant relevance to the restored gospel. If it were unimportant or unrelated to the gospel, why is it in the scriptures and the temples he left us? Is it not reasonable to assume that if Joseph Smith thought a study of these things important, we should as well?
Ignoring Joseph's approach to religious symbolism leaves us in an untenable position. We utterly fail to understand the significance of these things to our comprehension of the gospel.
Is that what we want?
© Anthony E. Larson, 2004
Showing posts with label sacrament. Show all posts
Showing posts with label sacrament. Show all posts
Monday, December 1, 2008
Wednesday, November 26, 2008
Elijah and Fire From Heaven
Few Old Testament prophets were as colorful as Elijah. His best-known deed was the calling down of fire out of heaven, which event piques the curiosity of the inquisitive Bible student.
Perhaps few readers have ventured further in the Elijah story because beyond the basic concepts of a dramatic contest with the priests of Baal, the story becomes quite odd. But there is far more to his story that is instructive when one looks beyond the obvious. As ever, the catastrophist point of view illuminates and gives new meaning to the often-overlooked oddities in Elijah’s story.
The rest of the story
So, as Paul Harvey, the eminent news broadcaster, is fond of saying, “Here’s the rest of the story.”
Elijah’s ministry occurred during a time of gross apostasy in Northern Israel. King Ahab’s wife, Jezebel, brought the worship of Baal, the god of her people, the Phoenicians, to Israel’s Northern Kingdom.
We pick up the Bible narrative where Elijah makes some demands of Ahab that will set the scene for a confrontation with the priests of Baal.
Once so gathered, Elijah did not preach to the Israelites, nor did he lecture them. He simply, eloquently, put the vital question to the Israelites present:
When they had no answer for him, he challenged them.
This was a subtle, but unmistakable reference to the difference between his monotheism and the polytheism of those he confronted. He alone served the one, true God, while the multitude of gods (Baalim) that Ahab, Jezebel, and the Israelites worshipped had a multitude of prophets to serve them. The implication was that by force of sheer numbers, the many prophets of the Baalim should be far more powerful than the sole prophet of Jehovah.
Elijah’s challenge
This was Elijah’s challenge to the priests of Baal:
The challenge, then, was to see which god would light the fire of sacrifice — an imposing demonstration for the true God since he alone could command the elements to do so. Thus, Elijah set the stage for the most dramatic demonstration of the powers of Jehovah since Moses led the Israelites out of Egypt during the Exodus.
Remarkable similarities
Indeed, the similarities between Moses, Joshua and Elijah are striking. Elijah, like Moses and Joshua, had clearly been informed by the Lord beforehand as to what was about to transpire in the heavens and how to take maximum advantage of the unusual phenomenon about to occur. It is also likely that none of these prophets completely understood what was about to happen, since they had never experienced anything remotely like this before. Still, they acted their part, as instructed.
A powerful lesson
A little foreknowledge goes a long way, giving considerable leverage and stature among onlookers to the one who seems to control such tremendous forces, especially when that information includes knowledge of the rare manifestations seen to accompany a major catastrophic event. There can be no better teaching aid.
Additionally, each worked his ‘miracles’ before thousands of people where failure was not an option. Such faith is rare. Most of us would rather go fishing than put ourselves in such a precarious position. One could easily lose reputation, if not his very life, if the promised miracles did not materialize.
Put yourself …
Imagine putting yourself in harm’s way as they did. The natural forces that would be unleashed in a natural catastrophe of the dimensions we are about to examine could as easily have destroyed the prophet if he failed to follow God’s instructions to the letter. Most of us would be inclined to run the other direction if we thought something catastrophic was about to happen in our neighborhood.
What is more, once they got over their astonishment at the event, the anger of the people for their humiliation and their loss in the wake of these Herculean phenomena would undoubtedly be directed at the prophet — an uncomfortable position, if not fatal, as Elijah learned. (See 1 Kings 19:10.) The bearer of bad tidings, say nothing of natural calamity, is often blamed for the outcome and held responsible with his life.
The idolaters take their turn
Returning to the narrative, we see that the priests of Baal initiated their part of the challenge on Mt. Carmel.
These verses imply that they expected not only fire from heaven to ignite their sacrifice, but they also expected a voice. This may be so because such manifestations of heavenly fire had been accompanied in the past by the voice of god, which is in keeping with the catastrophist model of such events and serves to explain why they held that expectation. Indeed, even the bloodletting may have been in similitude of the blood from heaven that also accompanied such an event.
All their efforts were to no avail. Baal had failed to hear their pleas by sending fire from heaven, despite the fact that Baal was known as a fire god.
Elijah’s ‘miracle’
After verbally humiliating the priests of Baal at their failure, Elijah went to work on his part of the challenge. He built an altar with a trench around it.
Perhaps to add insult to injury, Elijah ordered water poured upon the altar three times until the sacrifice was drenched and the trench around the alter was full. Then he was ready.
Herein Elijah plainly states that he has been acting under the direction of God, as pointed out at the beginning of this article. Of course, the outcome of the challenge was predictable.
Fire from heaven
Fire fell from heaven, consumed the burnt sacrifice, and the wood, the stones, the dust, and “licked up” the water that was in the trench. (1 Kings 18:38.)
Note that this “fire” did not simply light the wood around the sacrifice. It consumed everything in the area — bullock, wood, stones, dust and water! Clearly, this was no ordinary fire.
The rest of the rest of the story
The remaining part of Elijah’s story, which is usually left out of any exegesis, actually holds the final keys to understanding the nature of the entire episode.
Most notably, Elijah and Ahab were far from the altar when the fire fell from heaven. Elijah orders Ahab up the mountain, saying, “Get thee up, eat and drink,” then follows the king to the top of Carmel. Likely, they are both participating in the consumption portion of the sacrifice, an eating and drinking ceremony, which later came to be the ordinance we know as the Sacrament.
Elijah sets a lookout … but for what?
While so engaged, Elijah sends his servant to keep watch, with instruction to “look toward the sea.” Since Mt. Carmel is located inland from the coast, that would mean the servant was looking east, toward the Mediterranean. The servant repeatedly returned with news that “There is nothing,” whereupon Elijah would send him again to look again. Clearly, Elijah knew something was coming and wanted to be certain of his timing to match the approaching body.
Finally, the seventh time the servant is sent to look, he sees a “little cloud” arise out of the sea and reports it to the prophet who then sends the servant to warn the king to get off the mountain. Elijah knows that it is time to seek shelter from what is to come.
Much more than heavenly fire
Elijah’s foreknowledge of the fire from heaven included far more than that single event.
Both Elijah and Ahab headed for Jezreel by different routes and means, assumably for the shelter of the city. But Elijah was immediately forced to flee when he learned that Jezebel, upon hearing from Ahab what Elijah had done, swore to take his life.
Wandering text
The narrative at this point diverts from the catastrophist nature of the events and becomes somewhat confused, making this author wonder if is not a later addition or a reorganization of the sequence of events by later writers. In this part of the narrative, Elijah once again takes a ritual sacrament of cake and water and interacts with an angel. This is all entirely plausible, but not in the time frame of the catastrophic event described.
What is clear is that Elijah was prepared to die.
But his resignation to death may not have been due to the threat uttered by Jezebel. The fact that Elijah ultimately takes refuge in a cave rather than some man-made dwelling suggests that he sought to escape a life-threatening, natural event of epic proportions that was unfolding around him. This was typical of past catastrophic events, even as it will be in future events. (See Revelation 6:15.)
Catastrophe spectator
Standing at the entrance to his cave, his face wrapped in his mantle for protection (vs. 13), Elijah watched the advancing storm.
This was the final chapter in a catastrophic event that only began with the fire from heaven. It properly should be connected with that event from the beginning of the narrative. The intervening text only serves to obscure that fact, leaving one to wonder if the chronicler truly understood what was going on at that point in time.
A possible model?
Searching for a catastrophist model that might explain all the strange manifestations reported in connection with Elijah’s challenge, perhaps the near-impact model best explains them.
Wal Thornhill, plasma physicist and proponent of the Electric Universe theory, does not agree with the typical impact scenario described by today’s planetary scientists and as depicted in recent motion pictures and television documentaries. He claims that long before most comets or asteroids that might have Earth in their crosshairs ever reach their target, a discharge or series of discharges leap across space to equalize the net electrical charge of the two bodies, Earth and the intruder.
Notably, the scenario outlined above fits the Elijah story very well. Not only would an interplanetary lightning bolt fall to earth from a clear sky, a mountain, elevated above a surrounding plane, would be a likely place for it to strike. Thus, Elijah’s decision to locate the challenge on Mt. Carmel would have facilitated such a strike.
Fire? Or lightning?
The fact that the lightning bolt not only consumed the sacrifice but the altars as well suggests another phenomenon that Thornhill ascribes to these interplanetary discharges: electric arc machining.
According to Thornhill, these discharges are not unlike the electric arc that welders use when they employ a carbon rod to machine away material from the point of contact. He theorizes that most cratering seen to scar the faces of planets and moons in our solar system are the result of electric arc machining. A brief arc of this type between the Earth and an intruder would suffice to explain the consumption by “fire” of Elijah’s sacrifice and altar.
A near impact
The “little cloud” that Elijah’s servant reports emerging from the sea was probably the approaching object as it seemed to rise from the horizon. Looking in the right place, one might see the object coming, depending upon its size, for several hours before it actually passed the Earth. This would also explain the subsequent events, whether the object impacted the Earth or narrowly missed.
Close pass or impact?
If the object passed close by the Earth, its gravitational and electrical influence would still have caused the darkened skies, wind and earthquake reported in the narrative. The sky would darken ominously, and what would have appeared to be a great storm would quickly approach as the effects of the intruder made themselves ever more manifest in the Earth’s meteorology. This would produce “a great and strong wind” followed immediately by an earthquake as the object passed by.
Hearing voices
The “still small voice” is often interpreted spiritually as the voice of the Holy Ghost. While that possibility cannot be discounted, it may be that this was not so in this case. Since the voice, in this case, occurred in immediate proximity to a series of catastrophic phenomena, it may have been another variation of the many sounds heard to come from the heavens in such planetary disasters. Sometimes it sounded like an spoken word, such as the name Yahweh, uttered as a roar or as a whisper. Other times it sounded like trumpets, bells, chimes, drums or cymbals. Sometimes it was harmonious, as a choir; other times it was more cacophonous and dissonant than the loudest rock-and-roll concert you can imagine. And sometimes, it was a “still small voice” that seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere. Additionally, the narrative clearly differentiates between the “still small voice” and the voice of the angel that often conversed with Elijah.
Elijah’s catastrophe
So we see that the fire from heaven in the days of Elijah was likely only part of a greater catastrophic event. And like earlier prophets who came forward during ancient catastrophic events, Elijah was equal to the task. This puts him in elite company. Indeed, careful examination of the biblical record reveals that the greatest prophets, those most remembered and revered, served during times of planetary catastrophe.
Most biblical scholars, untrained in the discipline of catastrophism, fail to notice the larger picture. Thus, they focus on the various elements of the catastrophic event as autonomous and unrelated. In this author’s opinion, this presents a distorted and laconic view of the actual event. This is the case with many scriptural accounts, including Joshua’s Long Day, the Exodus and events predicted for the last days in Revelation.
One thing is certain. The catastrophist view of history and prophecy allows a more complete and revealing understanding of the scriptures than does the orthodox interpretation as we see in Elijah’s adventure.
© Anthony E. Larson, 2002
Perhaps few readers have ventured further in the Elijah story because beyond the basic concepts of a dramatic contest with the priests of Baal, the story becomes quite odd. But there is far more to his story that is instructive when one looks beyond the obvious. As ever, the catastrophist point of view illuminates and gives new meaning to the often-overlooked oddities in Elijah’s story.
The rest of the story
So, as Paul Harvey, the eminent news broadcaster, is fond of saying, “Here’s the rest of the story.”
Elijah’s ministry occurred during a time of gross apostasy in Northern Israel. King Ahab’s wife, Jezebel, brought the worship of Baal, the god of her people, the Phoenicians, to Israel’s Northern Kingdom.
We pick up the Bible narrative where Elijah makes some demands of Ahab that will set the scene for a confrontation with the priests of Baal.
Now therefore send, and gather to me all Israel unto mount Carmel, and the prophets of Baal four hundred and fifty, and the prophets of the groves four hundred, which eat at Jezebel’s table. (1 Kings 18:19.)
Once so gathered, Elijah did not preach to the Israelites, nor did he lecture them. He simply, eloquently, put the vital question to the Israelites present:
How long halt ye between two opinions? If the Lord be God, follow him: but if Baal, then follow him. (1 Kings 18:21.)
When they had no answer for him, he challenged them.
I, even I only, remain a prophet of the Lord; but Baal’s prophets are four hundred and fifty men. (1 Kings 18:22.)
This was a subtle, but unmistakable reference to the difference between his monotheism and the polytheism of those he confronted. He alone served the one, true God, while the multitude of gods (Baalim) that Ahab, Jezebel, and the Israelites worshipped had a multitude of prophets to serve them. The implication was that by force of sheer numbers, the many prophets of the Baalim should be far more powerful than the sole prophet of Jehovah.
Elijah’s challenge
This was Elijah’s challenge to the priests of Baal:
Let them therefore give us two bullocks; and let them choose one bullock for themselves, and cut it in pieces, and lay it on wood, and put no fire under: and I will dress the other bullock, and lay it on wood, and put no fire under;
And call ye on the name of your gods, and I will call on the name of the Lord: and the God that answereth by fire, let him be God. (1 Kings 18:23, 24.)
The challenge, then, was to see which god would light the fire of sacrifice — an imposing demonstration for the true God since he alone could command the elements to do so. Thus, Elijah set the stage for the most dramatic demonstration of the powers of Jehovah since Moses led the Israelites out of Egypt during the Exodus.
Remarkable similarities
Indeed, the similarities between Moses, Joshua and Elijah are striking. Elijah, like Moses and Joshua, had clearly been informed by the Lord beforehand as to what was about to transpire in the heavens and how to take maximum advantage of the unusual phenomenon about to occur. It is also likely that none of these prophets completely understood what was about to happen, since they had never experienced anything remotely like this before. Still, they acted their part, as instructed.
A powerful lesson
A little foreknowledge goes a long way, giving considerable leverage and stature among onlookers to the one who seems to control such tremendous forces, especially when that information includes knowledge of the rare manifestations seen to accompany a major catastrophic event. There can be no better teaching aid.
Additionally, each worked his ‘miracles’ before thousands of people where failure was not an option. Such faith is rare. Most of us would rather go fishing than put ourselves in such a precarious position. One could easily lose reputation, if not his very life, if the promised miracles did not materialize.
Put yourself …
Imagine putting yourself in harm’s way as they did. The natural forces that would be unleashed in a natural catastrophe of the dimensions we are about to examine could as easily have destroyed the prophet if he failed to follow God’s instructions to the letter. Most of us would be inclined to run the other direction if we thought something catastrophic was about to happen in our neighborhood.
What is more, once they got over their astonishment at the event, the anger of the people for their humiliation and their loss in the wake of these Herculean phenomena would undoubtedly be directed at the prophet — an uncomfortable position, if not fatal, as Elijah learned. (See 1 Kings 19:10.) The bearer of bad tidings, say nothing of natural calamity, is often blamed for the outcome and held responsible with his life.
The idolaters take their turn
Returning to the narrative, we see that the priests of Baal initiated their part of the challenge on Mt. Carmel.
And they took the bullock which was given them, and they dressed it, and called on the name of Baal from morning even until noon, saying, O Baal, hear us. But there was no voice, nor any that answered. And they leaped upon the altar which was made. (1 Kings 18:26.)
These verses imply that they expected not only fire from heaven to ignite their sacrifice, but they also expected a voice. This may be so because such manifestations of heavenly fire had been accompanied in the past by the voice of god, which is in keeping with the catastrophist model of such events and serves to explain why they held that expectation. Indeed, even the bloodletting may have been in similitude of the blood from heaven that also accompanied such an event.
… And they cried aloud, and cut themselves after their manner with knives and lancets, till the blood gushed out upon them. (1 Kings 18:28.)
All their efforts were to no avail. Baal had failed to hear their pleas by sending fire from heaven, despite the fact that Baal was known as a fire god.
Elijah’s ‘miracle’
After verbally humiliating the priests of Baal at their failure, Elijah went to work on his part of the challenge. He built an altar with a trench around it.
And he put the wood in order, and cut the bullock in pieces, and laid him on the wood, and said, Fill four barrels with water, and pour it on the burnt sacrifice, and on the wood. (1 Kings 18:33.)
Perhaps to add insult to injury, Elijah ordered water poured upon the altar three times until the sacrifice was drenched and the trench around the alter was full. Then he was ready.
And it came to pass at the time of the offering of the evening sacrifice, that Elijah the prophet came near, and said, Lord God of Abraham, Isaac, and of Israel, let it be known this day that thou art God in Israel, and that I am thy servant, and that I have done all these things at thy word. (1 Kings 18:36.)
Herein Elijah plainly states that he has been acting under the direction of God, as pointed out at the beginning of this article. Of course, the outcome of the challenge was predictable.
Fire from heaven
Fire fell from heaven, consumed the burnt sacrifice, and the wood, the stones, the dust, and “licked up” the water that was in the trench. (1 Kings 18:38.)
Note that this “fire” did not simply light the wood around the sacrifice. It consumed everything in the area — bullock, wood, stones, dust and water! Clearly, this was no ordinary fire.
The rest of the rest of the story
The remaining part of Elijah’s story, which is usually left out of any exegesis, actually holds the final keys to understanding the nature of the entire episode.
Most notably, Elijah and Ahab were far from the altar when the fire fell from heaven. Elijah orders Ahab up the mountain, saying, “Get thee up, eat and drink,” then follows the king to the top of Carmel. Likely, they are both participating in the consumption portion of the sacrifice, an eating and drinking ceremony, which later came to be the ordinance we know as the Sacrament.
Elijah sets a lookout … but for what?
While so engaged, Elijah sends his servant to keep watch, with instruction to “look toward the sea.” Since Mt. Carmel is located inland from the coast, that would mean the servant was looking east, toward the Mediterranean. The servant repeatedly returned with news that “There is nothing,” whereupon Elijah would send him again to look again. Clearly, Elijah knew something was coming and wanted to be certain of his timing to match the approaching body.
Finally, the seventh time the servant is sent to look, he sees a “little cloud” arise out of the sea and reports it to the prophet who then sends the servant to warn the king to get off the mountain. Elijah knows that it is time to seek shelter from what is to come.
Much more than heavenly fire
Elijah’s foreknowledge of the fire from heaven included far more than that single event.
And it came to pass in the meanwhile, that the heaven was black with clouds and wind, and there was a great rain.(1 Kings 18:45.)
Both Elijah and Ahab headed for Jezreel by different routes and means, assumably for the shelter of the city. But Elijah was immediately forced to flee when he learned that Jezebel, upon hearing from Ahab what Elijah had done, swore to take his life.
Wandering text
The narrative at this point diverts from the catastrophist nature of the events and becomes somewhat confused, making this author wonder if is not a later addition or a reorganization of the sequence of events by later writers. In this part of the narrative, Elijah once again takes a ritual sacrament of cake and water and interacts with an angel. This is all entirely plausible, but not in the time frame of the catastrophic event described.
What is clear is that Elijah was prepared to die.
… and he requested for himself that he might die; and said, It is enough; now, O Lord, take away my life; … (1 Kings 19:4.)
But his resignation to death may not have been due to the threat uttered by Jezebel. The fact that Elijah ultimately takes refuge in a cave rather than some man-made dwelling suggests that he sought to escape a life-threatening, natural event of epic proportions that was unfolding around him. This was typical of past catastrophic events, even as it will be in future events. (See Revelation 6:15.)
Catastrophe spectator
Standing at the entrance to his cave, his face wrapped in his mantle for protection (vs. 13), Elijah watched the advancing storm.
And behold, the Lord passed by, and a great and strong wind rent the mountains, and brake in pieces the rocks before the Lord; but the Lord was not in the wind: and after the wind and earthquake; but the lord was not in the earthquake:
And after the earthquake a fire; but the Lord was not in the fire: and after the fire a still small voice. (1 Kings 19:11, 12.)
This was the final chapter in a catastrophic event that only began with the fire from heaven. It properly should be connected with that event from the beginning of the narrative. The intervening text only serves to obscure that fact, leaving one to wonder if the chronicler truly understood what was going on at that point in time.
A possible model?
Searching for a catastrophist model that might explain all the strange manifestations reported in connection with Elijah’s challenge, perhaps the near-impact model best explains them.
Wal Thornhill, plasma physicist and proponent of the Electric Universe theory, does not agree with the typical impact scenario described by today’s planetary scientists and as depicted in recent motion pictures and television documentaries. He claims that long before most comets or asteroids that might have Earth in their crosshairs ever reach their target, a discharge or series of discharges leap across space to equalize the net electrical charge of the two bodies, Earth and the intruder.
Notably, the scenario outlined above fits the Elijah story very well. Not only would an interplanetary lightning bolt fall to earth from a clear sky, a mountain, elevated above a surrounding plane, would be a likely place for it to strike. Thus, Elijah’s decision to locate the challenge on Mt. Carmel would have facilitated such a strike.
Fire? Or lightning?
The fact that the lightning bolt not only consumed the sacrifice but the altars as well suggests another phenomenon that Thornhill ascribes to these interplanetary discharges: electric arc machining.
According to Thornhill, these discharges are not unlike the electric arc that welders use when they employ a carbon rod to machine away material from the point of contact. He theorizes that most cratering seen to scar the faces of planets and moons in our solar system are the result of electric arc machining. A brief arc of this type between the Earth and an intruder would suffice to explain the consumption by “fire” of Elijah’s sacrifice and altar.
A near impact
The “little cloud” that Elijah’s servant reports emerging from the sea was probably the approaching object as it seemed to rise from the horizon. Looking in the right place, one might see the object coming, depending upon its size, for several hours before it actually passed the Earth. This would also explain the subsequent events, whether the object impacted the Earth or narrowly missed.
Close pass or impact?
If the object passed close by the Earth, its gravitational and electrical influence would still have caused the darkened skies, wind and earthquake reported in the narrative. The sky would darken ominously, and what would have appeared to be a great storm would quickly approach as the effects of the intruder made themselves ever more manifest in the Earth’s meteorology. This would produce “a great and strong wind” followed immediately by an earthquake as the object passed by.
Hearing voices
The “still small voice” is often interpreted spiritually as the voice of the Holy Ghost. While that possibility cannot be discounted, it may be that this was not so in this case. Since the voice, in this case, occurred in immediate proximity to a series of catastrophic phenomena, it may have been another variation of the many sounds heard to come from the heavens in such planetary disasters. Sometimes it sounded like an spoken word, such as the name Yahweh, uttered as a roar or as a whisper. Other times it sounded like trumpets, bells, chimes, drums or cymbals. Sometimes it was harmonious, as a choir; other times it was more cacophonous and dissonant than the loudest rock-and-roll concert you can imagine. And sometimes, it was a “still small voice” that seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere. Additionally, the narrative clearly differentiates between the “still small voice” and the voice of the angel that often conversed with Elijah.
Elijah’s catastrophe
So we see that the fire from heaven in the days of Elijah was likely only part of a greater catastrophic event. And like earlier prophets who came forward during ancient catastrophic events, Elijah was equal to the task. This puts him in elite company. Indeed, careful examination of the biblical record reveals that the greatest prophets, those most remembered and revered, served during times of planetary catastrophe.
Most biblical scholars, untrained in the discipline of catastrophism, fail to notice the larger picture. Thus, they focus on the various elements of the catastrophic event as autonomous and unrelated. In this author’s opinion, this presents a distorted and laconic view of the actual event. This is the case with many scriptural accounts, including Joshua’s Long Day, the Exodus and events predicted for the last days in Revelation.
One thing is certain. The catastrophist view of history and prophecy allows a more complete and revealing understanding of the scriptures than does the orthodox interpretation as we see in Elijah’s adventure.
© Anthony E. Larson, 2002
Monday, November 17, 2008
The Origin of the Sacrament
Mormons partake of the Sacrament in remembrance of the Savior’s sacrifice for our sins. These are a precious few moments in which we can reflect upon and ponder what he accomplished on our behalf.
All Christians, no matter how they celebrate the expiation of Christ, recognize the instigation of that ordinance by the Savior during the Passover (Pesach) in Jerusalem just prior to his crucifixion.
If they pay attention in classes, Latter-day Saints will have learned about the historical roots of Passover in the events of the Israelites’ Exodus from Egypt, which included a hastily consumed meal that came to be known in Jewish tradition as Seder.
Since Seder includes the ritual consumption of certain foods, it seems appropriate that Christ would choose that occasion to instigate another eating ritual to encourage his followers to recall his primary mission to Earth: the resurrection of all and salvation for those who seek it.
Looking deeper into the past
Christians believe that the Sacrament originated with Christ. Hence, no investigation of the ordinance goes beyond that point.
What most Christians and Latter-day Saints do not know is that the origins of the Sacrament, like most Christian conventions, are to be found much further back in time, in ancient custom and tradition. In fact, there is credible evidence that its roots go much deeper into ancient tradition than most consider. This evidence points to the source of such rituals in the heaven-spanning specters that once dominated Earth’s skies.
As it turns out, the scriptures tell us of a ritual meal consumed by idolatrous Israelites that is clearly a prototype of the Sacrament, leading to the surprising conclusion that the Savior borrowed a custom or tradition that was already ancient in his day, and then adopted and adapted it to use as an ordinance.
To understand the ancient origins of the Sacrament, we must go back in time to the reign of judges in Israel after the conquest of Canaan and the Philistines by Joshua’s armies.
Shortly after Joshua’s death, the Israelites began worshipping the gods of their neighbors. In Judges we read:
Here we have an unequivocal statement that the Israelites adopted the idolatrous worship of neighboring cultures. Indeed, one might argue that they never actually abandoned the beliefs and practices that they learned while in bondage in Egypt.
Even though the generation that followed Moses out of Egypt had long passed away by the era covered in Judges, the text clearly indicates that they passed on to their children a tendency to accept idolatrous beliefs and practices, suggesting that vestiges of idolatry bridged the gap from one generation to another, down through the ages.
On the earth, as in heaven
Of course, we’ve learned elsewhere that those idolatrous traditions were based entirely in ancient astral events. They were symbolic of things that were once seen to happen in Earth’s tumultuous skies.
More specifically, we know that Baal (Apollo) was Mars and Ashtaroth (Ishtar, Aphrodite) was Venus, the two primary actors in the Polar Configuration.
These idolatrous practices flourished over time to become an integral part of Israelite culture. Indeed, they endured on into the epoch of the Israelite monarchy where Yahweh was no longer revered as the only god. In fact, he was worshipped as one of many gods.
Thus we see that the customs, rituals and practices attendant to the worship of those idols was fully integrated into Israelite culture for many generations, insomuch that they became an indistinguishable part of the religion Moses had originally given them.
We see the pervasiveness of such practices many generations later in events recorded by the prophet Jeremiah.
The Lord condemned Israel through Jeremiah for their perfidy. In addition to practicing the abominable ritual of child sacrifice to the heathen god Moloch, Jeremiah’s account explains that they worshipped “the queen of heaven,” making “cakes” and “drink offerings.”
The queen was a star and a planet
This Queen of Heaven that Jeremiah despised was none other than Ashtoreth, mentioned in the quotes from 1st and 2nd Kings. She was the great star goddess (Venus) of antiquity, the mother of the son (Mars) of god (Saturn).
As an aside, it is worthy of note that the Roman Catholics adopted the imagery of the Queen of Heaven for their worship of the Virgin Mary, the mother of Christ. In that role, she is an ideal fit for all the imagery and veneration of her prototype in nearly every ancient culture since they all had an equivalent goddess they worshipped as the Queen of Heaven and the mother of god, whether she was called Ashtoreth, Ishtar, Isis, or some other title. Thus, when Christianity was taken to other “gentile” cultures, they readily accepted the Virgin Mary imagery. This was even true for Mesoamerican peoples such as the Inca, Maya and Aztecs.
A ritual meal
Of particular interest in our quest to understand the origins of the Sacrament is the practice of making cakes and drink offerings mentioned in the preceding verses.
In the following verses we learn that in spite of Jeremiah’s pleas to abandon such rituals, the people vowed to continue them because they were traditional.
These cakes and drinks they made were not simply used as an offering placed upon some alter or set aside in a shrine. They were ultimately consumed ritually, just as were all the animal sacrifices of the Israelites.
As is the case for all such rituals or rites, they were done to recall some aspect of the ancient configuration that once stood above the Earth.
Hot cross buns and the Queen of Heaven
Another curious connection to these rites is found in European pre-history. When the northern tribes of Israel ultimately migrated into Europe, they took these traditions with them. So it should not surprise us to learn that the traditions of many European cultures preserve vestiges of these practices.
Our holiday now connected with the Savior’s resurrection, Easter, is just such a tradition. It began as a celebration, a holiday (holy day) consecrated to the Queen of Heaven: Aster, Astarte, Ishtar or Ashtoreth. One custom connected with that holiday is the making of hot cross buns. In effect, buns were made that bore the image of the goddess, which was a cross.
The cross placed on the hot cross buns is the same image that history tells us was placed on the cakes made by the women of Jerusalem in the Jeremiah text. Not only that, the European tradition indicates that those cakes were made to be eaten, just as are their equivalents today. The cross was the explicit ancient symbol of the star goddess since she ultimately assumed the form of the cross in heaven. The “cakes” or buns were made in the image of the goddess.
Here we see a discharging Venus forming four arms or streams, setting behind the darker orb Mars and in front of the larger face of Saturn. This is the archetypal image replicated in the hot cross buns of Easter.
Learning the lessons of history
So, we learn yet another connection of the idolatrous practices of the ancients to our modern cultural traditions which serves to demonstrate how pervasive and enduring are these traditional practices. Just as with the Christmas traditions — in fact, the traditions of all holidays (holy days), which all harken back to celestial events — they endure in one form or another in contemporary culture, even after memory of the origins are long lost and forgotten in hoary antiquity.
And so it was with the worship of the Queen of Heaven, the great star goddess of antiquity. When the ancient Israelites ate the cakes and drank the drink offering, they made a covenant to remember her, to recall how she brought the heavens to life and lit the Earth with her glory, as well as nurturing the child (Mars) she bore. Cakes and beer or wine were chosen because those were ultimately the edible fruits of the Earth over which Venus ruled. Hence, she was the prototype of Mother Nature as well.
She was called the Queen of Heaven for good reason. Sumerian texts tell of her “terrifying glory,” invoking Inanna (Venus) as the goddess of “the Light of the World”, “the Amazement of the Lands”, “the Radiant Star” and “Great Light.” They depict the goddess “clothed in radiance,” saying that the world stood in “fear and trembling at [her] tempestuous radiance.”
So, when the Savior wished to initiate an ordinance that would remind his followers of his role as Redeemer and “light of the world,” the thought of adopting this ritual to the light goddess naturally came to him. Not only was the ritual customary in his culture, making it an easy transition for his followers, he must have known that similar customs in other cultures would pave the way for adopting the ritual among converts to the ‘new’ religion, Christianity.
Supportive of this thesis is the fact that the cross once seen in heaven emanating from the sky goddess became the principle symbol of Christ in the emerging Catholic and Eastern Orthodox religions. Clearly, converts from paganism to Christianity had no problem with applying both the cross symbol of their sky goddess and the ritual meal commemorating her to the worship of the real Son of God, the Savior in their new religion.
When we take the Sacrament, we covenant to remember the Savior and the role he plays in creation and more particularly in our redemption. He chose to have the bread represent his body and the water to represent his blood, a logical and natural adaptation of the original offering to the meaning of the Christian Sacrament.
Thus we see that the archetypal ordinance, the predecessor of the Sacrament, served the same function in the religions of all ancient cultures as it does in Christianity.
Learning new lessons from the past
Such knowledge teaches us many things. We learn that our practices and beliefs are not that much different from those of cultures we have heretofore seen as strange and esoteric, completely unrelated to the gospel. We see that the gospel can easily be adapted to the traditions of almost any culture because its rituals arise from common roots in ancient celestial events and conditions. Indeed, one may say that all gospel ordinances came into being in a similar manner and for similar reasons.
We learn that Christian ordinances serve to connect us to our ancestors in a very intimate way, even though they may have been somewhat altered and misapplied by less enlightened cultures. We learn that the Savior found nothing improper in borrowing those traditions and adapting them to correct religious practice in order to make it easier for the wayward human race to embrace his gospel and its ordinances.
Thus, the hue and cry among Christians and some Mormons that holidays like Christmas and Easter — even Halloween — are pagan rites, and thus beneath our dignity as followers of Christ and worthy only of our contempt, is flawed. These are valid traditional celebrations that have been adapted as Christian holidays.
Borrowing: a time honored tradition
Moreover — and perhaps the most important lesson we should learn from all this — when Joseph Smith borrowed the vestiges of ancient temple rites and ritual from Masonry, the only institution on the American frontier in the early 1800s that retained some semblance of those rites and ordinances and adapted them for use in LDS temples, he was merely following the Savior’s pattern in such things.
This also partially explains the presence of idolatrous icons all over modern LDS temples, including the statue of the Greek Aphrodite that stands watch over the veil in the Celestial Room of the Salt Lake Temple.
Such issues are only a problem for those who do not understand the origin and purpose of such practices or icons and the methodology that allows their adoption and adaptation as necessary or useful. When seen in the revelatory light of a proper view of history, there is no need for concern or anxiety at these measures.
Now we can see them in their true role as cultural traditions meant to remind us of things our culture has forgotten, vestiges of a past that entirely elud us today. Their whole purpose is to help us recall our past, one most Saints seem intent on ignoring even though their founding prophet did all he could to resurrect that knowledge.
Modern ignorance
The ancients would surely be appalled at our ignorance and disregard for the messages they labored to communicate to us down through the ages by means of the symbolism in their texts and the iconography of their sacred temples, tombs and monuments. Given that the true gospel was restored via revelation to Latter-day Saints in this dispensation, our present level of ignorance places added condemnation upon us.
If we forget their origins and true meaning, which most of us have, then these ordinances are only harmless, if somewhat meaningful, rituals. But when we study our past and learn its lessons, these practices serve to immeasurably enrich our lives and further our commitment to our religion and our Savior while connecting us to the beliefs and traditions our ancestors embraced.
This is the primary benefit of learning truth, the correct version of the present, the past and the future—as the Lord put it to Joseph Smith, “things as they are, as they were and as they are to come.”
© Anthony E. Larson, 2005
All Christians, no matter how they celebrate the expiation of Christ, recognize the instigation of that ordinance by the Savior during the Passover (Pesach) in Jerusalem just prior to his crucifixion.
And as they were eating, Jesus took bread, and blessed it, and brake it, and gave it to the disciples, and said, Take, eat; this is my body.
And he took the cup, and gave thanks, and gave it to them, saying, Drink ye all of it;
For this is my blood of the new testament, which is shed for many for the remission of sins. (Matthew 26:26-28.)
If they pay attention in classes, Latter-day Saints will have learned about the historical roots of Passover in the events of the Israelites’ Exodus from Egypt, which included a hastily consumed meal that came to be known in Jewish tradition as Seder.
Since Seder includes the ritual consumption of certain foods, it seems appropriate that Christ would choose that occasion to instigate another eating ritual to encourage his followers to recall his primary mission to Earth: the resurrection of all and salvation for those who seek it.
Looking deeper into the past
Christians believe that the Sacrament originated with Christ. Hence, no investigation of the ordinance goes beyond that point.
What most Christians and Latter-day Saints do not know is that the origins of the Sacrament, like most Christian conventions, are to be found much further back in time, in ancient custom and tradition. In fact, there is credible evidence that its roots go much deeper into ancient tradition than most consider. This evidence points to the source of such rituals in the heaven-spanning specters that once dominated Earth’s skies.
As it turns out, the scriptures tell us of a ritual meal consumed by idolatrous Israelites that is clearly a prototype of the Sacrament, leading to the surprising conclusion that the Savior borrowed a custom or tradition that was already ancient in his day, and then adopted and adapted it to use as an ordinance.
To understand the ancient origins of the Sacrament, we must go back in time to the reign of judges in Israel after the conquest of Canaan and the Philistines by Joshua’s armies.
Shortly after Joshua’s death, the Israelites began worshipping the gods of their neighbors. In Judges we read:
And the children of Israel did evil in the sight of the LORD, and served Baalim:
And they forsook the LORD God of their fathers, which brought them out of the land of Egypt, and followed other gods, of the gods of the people that were round about them, and bowed themselves unto them, and provoked the LORD to anger.
And they forsook the LORD, and served Baal and Ashtaroth. (Judges 2:11, 12, 13.)
And the children of Israel did evil again in the sight of the LORD, and served Baalim, and Ashtaroth, and the gods of Syria, and the gods of Zidon, and the gods of Moab, and the gods of the children of Ammon, and the gods of the Philistines, and forsook the LORD, and served not him. (Judges 10:6.)
Here we have an unequivocal statement that the Israelites adopted the idolatrous worship of neighboring cultures. Indeed, one might argue that they never actually abandoned the beliefs and practices that they learned while in bondage in Egypt.
Even though the generation that followed Moses out of Egypt had long passed away by the era covered in Judges, the text clearly indicates that they passed on to their children a tendency to accept idolatrous beliefs and practices, suggesting that vestiges of idolatry bridged the gap from one generation to another, down through the ages.
On the earth, as in heaven
Of course, we’ve learned elsewhere that those idolatrous traditions were based entirely in ancient astral events. They were symbolic of things that were once seen to happen in Earth’s tumultuous skies.
More specifically, we know that Baal (Apollo) was Mars and Ashtaroth (Ishtar, Aphrodite) was Venus, the two primary actors in the Polar Configuration.
These idolatrous practices flourished over time to become an integral part of Israelite culture. Indeed, they endured on into the epoch of the Israelite monarchy where Yahweh was no longer revered as the only god. In fact, he was worshipped as one of many gods.
For Solomon went after Ashtoreth the goddess of the Zidonians, and after Milcom the abomination of the Ammonites.
And Solomon did evil in the sight of the LORD, and went not fully after the LORD, as did David his father.
Then did Solomon build an high place for Chemosh, the abomination of Moab, in the hill that is before Jerusalem, and for Molech, the abomination of the children of Ammon.
And likewise did he for all his strange wives, which burnt incense and sacrificed unto their gods. (1 Kings 11:5-8.)
And the high places that were before Jerusalem, which were on the right hand of the mount of corruption, which Solomon the king of Israel had builded for Ashtoreth the abomination of the Zidonians, and for Chemosh the abomination of the Moabites, and for Milcom the abomination of the children of Ammon, did the king defile. (2 Kings 23:13.)
Thus we see that the customs, rituals and practices attendant to the worship of those idols was fully integrated into Israelite culture for many generations, insomuch that they became an indistinguishable part of the religion Moses had originally given them.
We see the pervasiveness of such practices many generations later in events recorded by the prophet Jeremiah.
Therefore pray not thou for this people, neither lift up cry nor prayer for them, neither make intercession to me: for I will not hear thee.
Seest thou not what they do in the cities of Judah and in the streets of Jerusalem?
The children gather wood, and the fathers kindle the fire and the women knead their dough, to make cakes to the queen of heaven, and to pour out drink offerings unto other gods, that they may provoke me to anger. (Jeremiah 7:16-18.)
The Lord condemned Israel through Jeremiah for their perfidy. In addition to practicing the abominable ritual of child sacrifice to the heathen god Moloch, Jeremiah’s account explains that they worshipped “the queen of heaven,” making “cakes” and “drink offerings.”
The queen was a star and a planet
This Queen of Heaven that Jeremiah despised was none other than Ashtoreth, mentioned in the quotes from 1st and 2nd Kings. She was the great star goddess (Venus) of antiquity, the mother of the son (Mars) of god (Saturn).
As an aside, it is worthy of note that the Roman Catholics adopted the imagery of the Queen of Heaven for their worship of the Virgin Mary, the mother of Christ. In that role, she is an ideal fit for all the imagery and veneration of her prototype in nearly every ancient culture since they all had an equivalent goddess they worshipped as the Queen of Heaven and the mother of god, whether she was called Ashtoreth, Ishtar, Isis, or some other title. Thus, when Christianity was taken to other “gentile” cultures, they readily accepted the Virgin Mary imagery. This was even true for Mesoamerican peoples such as the Inca, Maya and Aztecs.
A ritual meal
Of particular interest in our quest to understand the origins of the Sacrament is the practice of making cakes and drink offerings mentioned in the preceding verses.
In the following verses we learn that in spite of Jeremiah’s pleas to abandon such rituals, the people vowed to continue them because they were traditional.
Then all the men which knew that their wives had burned incense unto other gods, and all the women that stood by, a great multitude, even all the people that dwelt in the land of Egypt, in Pathros, answered Jeremiah, saying,
As for the word that thou hast spoken unto us in the name of the LORD, we will not hearken unto thee.
But we will certainly do whatsoever thing goeth forth out of our own mouth, to burn incense unto the queen of heaven, and to pour out drink offerings unto her, as we have done, we, and our fathers, our kings, and our princes, in the cities of Judah, and in the streets of Jerusalem: for then had we plenty of victuals, and were well, and saw no evil.
But since we left off to burn incense to the queen of heaven, and to pour out drink offerings unto her, we have wanted all things, and have been consumed by the sword and by the famine.
And when we burned incense to the queen of heaven, and poured out drink offerings unto her, did we make her cakes to worship her, and pour out drink offerings unto her, without our men? (Jeremiah 44:15-19, italics added.)
These cakes and drinks they made were not simply used as an offering placed upon some alter or set aside in a shrine. They were ultimately consumed ritually, just as were all the animal sacrifices of the Israelites.
As is the case for all such rituals or rites, they were done to recall some aspect of the ancient configuration that once stood above the Earth.
Hot cross buns and the Queen of Heaven
Another curious connection to these rites is found in European pre-history. When the northern tribes of Israel ultimately migrated into Europe, they took these traditions with them. So it should not surprise us to learn that the traditions of many European cultures preserve vestiges of these practices.
Our holiday now connected with the Savior’s resurrection, Easter, is just such a tradition. It began as a celebration, a holiday (holy day) consecrated to the Queen of Heaven: Aster, Astarte, Ishtar or Ashtoreth. One custom connected with that holiday is the making of hot cross buns. In effect, buns were made that bore the image of the goddess, which was a cross.
The cross placed on the hot cross buns is the same image that history tells us was placed on the cakes made by the women of Jerusalem in the Jeremiah text. Not only that, the European tradition indicates that those cakes were made to be eaten, just as are their equivalents today. The cross was the explicit ancient symbol of the star goddess since she ultimately assumed the form of the cross in heaven. The “cakes” or buns were made in the image of the goddess.
Here we see a discharging Venus forming four arms or streams, setting behind the darker orb Mars and in front of the larger face of Saturn. This is the archetypal image replicated in the hot cross buns of Easter.
Learning the lessons of history
So, we learn yet another connection of the idolatrous practices of the ancients to our modern cultural traditions which serves to demonstrate how pervasive and enduring are these traditional practices. Just as with the Christmas traditions — in fact, the traditions of all holidays (holy days), which all harken back to celestial events — they endure in one form or another in contemporary culture, even after memory of the origins are long lost and forgotten in hoary antiquity.
And so it was with the worship of the Queen of Heaven, the great star goddess of antiquity. When the ancient Israelites ate the cakes and drank the drink offering, they made a covenant to remember her, to recall how she brought the heavens to life and lit the Earth with her glory, as well as nurturing the child (Mars) she bore. Cakes and beer or wine were chosen because those were ultimately the edible fruits of the Earth over which Venus ruled. Hence, she was the prototype of Mother Nature as well.
She was called the Queen of Heaven for good reason. Sumerian texts tell of her “terrifying glory,” invoking Inanna (Venus) as the goddess of “the Light of the World”, “the Amazement of the Lands”, “the Radiant Star” and “Great Light.” They depict the goddess “clothed in radiance,” saying that the world stood in “fear and trembling at [her] tempestuous radiance.”
So, when the Savior wished to initiate an ordinance that would remind his followers of his role as Redeemer and “light of the world,” the thought of adopting this ritual to the light goddess naturally came to him. Not only was the ritual customary in his culture, making it an easy transition for his followers, he must have known that similar customs in other cultures would pave the way for adopting the ritual among converts to the ‘new’ religion, Christianity.
Supportive of this thesis is the fact that the cross once seen in heaven emanating from the sky goddess became the principle symbol of Christ in the emerging Catholic and Eastern Orthodox religions. Clearly, converts from paganism to Christianity had no problem with applying both the cross symbol of their sky goddess and the ritual meal commemorating her to the worship of the real Son of God, the Savior in their new religion.
When we take the Sacrament, we covenant to remember the Savior and the role he plays in creation and more particularly in our redemption. He chose to have the bread represent his body and the water to represent his blood, a logical and natural adaptation of the original offering to the meaning of the Christian Sacrament.
Thus we see that the archetypal ordinance, the predecessor of the Sacrament, served the same function in the religions of all ancient cultures as it does in Christianity.
Learning new lessons from the past
Such knowledge teaches us many things. We learn that our practices and beliefs are not that much different from those of cultures we have heretofore seen as strange and esoteric, completely unrelated to the gospel. We see that the gospel can easily be adapted to the traditions of almost any culture because its rituals arise from common roots in ancient celestial events and conditions. Indeed, one may say that all gospel ordinances came into being in a similar manner and for similar reasons.
We learn that Christian ordinances serve to connect us to our ancestors in a very intimate way, even though they may have been somewhat altered and misapplied by less enlightened cultures. We learn that the Savior found nothing improper in borrowing those traditions and adapting them to correct religious practice in order to make it easier for the wayward human race to embrace his gospel and its ordinances.
Thus, the hue and cry among Christians and some Mormons that holidays like Christmas and Easter — even Halloween — are pagan rites, and thus beneath our dignity as followers of Christ and worthy only of our contempt, is flawed. These are valid traditional celebrations that have been adapted as Christian holidays.
Borrowing: a time honored tradition
Moreover — and perhaps the most important lesson we should learn from all this — when Joseph Smith borrowed the vestiges of ancient temple rites and ritual from Masonry, the only institution on the American frontier in the early 1800s that retained some semblance of those rites and ordinances and adapted them for use in LDS temples, he was merely following the Savior’s pattern in such things.
This also partially explains the presence of idolatrous icons all over modern LDS temples, including the statue of the Greek Aphrodite that stands watch over the veil in the Celestial Room of the Salt Lake Temple.
Such issues are only a problem for those who do not understand the origin and purpose of such practices or icons and the methodology that allows their adoption and adaptation as necessary or useful. When seen in the revelatory light of a proper view of history, there is no need for concern or anxiety at these measures.
Now we can see them in their true role as cultural traditions meant to remind us of things our culture has forgotten, vestiges of a past that entirely elud us today. Their whole purpose is to help us recall our past, one most Saints seem intent on ignoring even though their founding prophet did all he could to resurrect that knowledge.
Modern ignorance
The ancients would surely be appalled at our ignorance and disregard for the messages they labored to communicate to us down through the ages by means of the symbolism in their texts and the iconography of their sacred temples, tombs and monuments. Given that the true gospel was restored via revelation to Latter-day Saints in this dispensation, our present level of ignorance places added condemnation upon us.
If we forget their origins and true meaning, which most of us have, then these ordinances are only harmless, if somewhat meaningful, rituals. But when we study our past and learn its lessons, these practices serve to immeasurably enrich our lives and further our commitment to our religion and our Savior while connecting us to the beliefs and traditions our ancestors embraced.
This is the primary benefit of learning truth, the correct version of the present, the past and the future—as the Lord put it to Joseph Smith, “things as they are, as they were and as they are to come.”
© Anthony E. Larson, 2005
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