Site:SS lessons/BOM lesson 28
From Feast upon the Word (http://feastupontheword.org). Copyright, Feast upon the Word.
This page allows you to see all the commentary pages together for this Book of Mormon Gospel Doctrine lesson. Click on the heading to go to a specific page. Click the edit links below to edit text on any pages.
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The Book of Mormon > Alma > Chapter 32
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Questions
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Lexical notes[edit]
Verse 1
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Verse 2
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Verse 3
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Verse 5
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Exegesis[edit]
Verse 1
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Verse 2The actual use of the word "class" here is of some significance: the word only appears in the scriptures in translations and revelation provided by Joseph Smith. It in fact only appears twice in the Book of Mormon: here and 4 Ne 1:26. This other instance is helpful for interpretation here, since it describes the falling apart of Nephite utopia as class-structure comes into being. The perhaps Marxist ring of the word should not be missed: while every civilization has had its poor, the Zoramites are strikingly "modern" in that they have a poor class. This deserves much further attention. [edit]
Verse 3While the "therefore" that opens this verse makes perfect sense, the second "therefore" in the verse seems curious. It seems the most natural way to interpret the grammar here is in terms of the poor being poor because they were cast out of the synagogues. The meaning implied by this reading, however, runs counter to the way we would probably expect to read this verse. That is, it would seem more natural to read the causation the opposite way: the poor were cast out of the synagogues because they were poor. Possible interpretations include the following: (1) "Poor" in this case might be taken to mean "poor in heart." One criticism of this reading is that if this were indeed the intended meaning, then it seems curious that the last phrase of the verse, "poor in heart," has an explicit modifier, whereas the first use of the phrase does not. If this were the intended meaning, it seems this order should be reversed. (2a) "Poor" might be taken here as a condition imposed upon the poor by the gaze of the wealthy, as more of a social class, emphasizing the "socio" aspect of their socio-economic position, rather than their economic status. (2b) "Poor" might be taken as referring to the economic status of the poor and the reason the poor are poor is a result of their being relegated to a lower social class. (3) "Therefore" might be chalked up to a mistake in translation. Perhaps the first two of these possibilities (both variations of the second possibility) could be worked together in a single reading of the verse. While verse 2 states explicitly that the Zoramites in question were poor materially, this verse adds this curious phrasing that seems to suggest that their poverty is primarily a function of their relation to the Zoramite wealthy (it is the esteem of the others that renders them poor). This shift destabilizes the rather straightforward meaning of "poor" in verse 2 as part of a kind of movement towards the (also curious) phrase "poor in heart." This would seem to follow from the concluding "therefore they were poor as to things of the world [first meaning of "poor," displaced by the oddity of the grammar]; and also they were poor in heart [second meaning of "poor," replacing the first meaning by virtue of the odd grammar]." It would seem best, then, to understand "poor in heart" as a question of relation, as the way in which one is regarded, almost as a social construction (cf. the lexical note above on the phrase "poor in heart"). This careful phrasing—most likely on Mormon's part?—anticipates Alma's many caveats during the discourse in speaking of the humility of his audience: they are not to be praised for their humility, because it is a compelled humility, but God can still take advantage of such a situation. The flipside of this "poor in heart" business is also worth exploring: that the poor are poor because they are esteemed as filthiness, the rich are rich because they are esteemed as somehow clean. Such a correlation, of course, as it seems to be among the Zoramites, can all too easily be misconstrued: whoever has wealth is all too easily regarded as somehow righteous. [edit]
Verse 4Onidah was, or at least became within a few years, "the place of arms." Given the military setting of the Zoramite city—and the likely military position of their "leader," Zoram—it seems best to understand Onidah to be a place of some military importance, perhaps the headquarters of the (as yet) Nephite military. That Alma is addressing an entire multitude there (verse 7 makes quite clear that an entire multitude of the wealthy were gathered listening to him) would appear, then, to be of some significance: Alma is likely preaching in some kind of official setting. This sudden appearance of the multitude of the poor would then have been a major disturbance, perhaps a planned one, given the rhetoric of the "foremost" of them in verse 5. [edit]
Verse 5If one takes the apparent formality of the title "foremost" and the still more apparent formality of the term "brethren" in the appeal made to Alma, it becomes possible, perhaps, to detect a hint of formal organization on behalf of the poor here. Rather than being faced with hungry crowds who have suddenly united in their humility and so confronted Alma, the text presents an organized, perhaps militant, group, one that makes its appeal with formal rhetoric and perhaps in a rather public, dramatic manner (while Alma is speaking, according to appointment, to the military elite). The fact that one person is explicitly mentioned as representing the group of people here seems to echo the organizational structure outlined in Mosiah 18:18 where there is one priest ordained to be in charge of "every fifty of their number." This, coupled with Jacob's description in Jacob 1:19 about the responsibility he felt, "answering the sins of the people upon [their] own heads," might point to a kind of mind set that carried over to the Zoramite poor of one person (typologically, the high priest) representing a group. Moreover, the one representative of the poor who is here petitioning on behalf of his brethren, seems to echo the covenant to "bear one another's burdens" given in Mosiah 18:8ff. The familiarity with scripture that Alma presupposes amongst the poor suggests that links to these previous teachings among the Nephites may not be wholly unfounded. The usually benign reading of the foremost Zoramite's words is perhaps unsettled by the inclusive/exclusive use of the phrase "our God" in this verse. It would seem that he is trying to draw—however subtle—a distinction between the god of the Zoramites and the God of Alma. If this strengthens the remarkably political, perhaps even Marxist, reading of this passage, it remains to be worked out to what extent this difference in gods is understood by the Zoramites to be of significance and to what extent Alma dismisses the difference entirely. This question is perhaps especially important given the political position gods had generally in the ancient world. The rhetoric of this verse really deserves extended attention: so much of the appeal and power of the group's representative is tied to the manner of his words. This is still more important given Alma's interpretation of these words: whatever is spoken in them, he understood them (or opportunistically took them) to be penitent in nature. What can be read into the rhetorical structure of this appeal? [edit]
BeholdBecause "behold" appears as often as it does in the scriptures and because of its relatively archaic character, it is too easy to miss the thrust of the word itself. When it appears in narrative contexts, the word carries much of the weight of the narrative movement, almost like an emphatic "and then, guess what happened!" Here, of course, it does not play a narrative part, though it remains quite as emphatic: in conversation, it has the power of a commanding formality. It is undeniably a kind of summons, a call to the other to see something. Like the more current, "Look," it would seem to imply that the person being summoned has not yet grasped the weight of something, has not yet considered everything that needs to be considered. And yet it has a formalism about it: the person who is told to behold is being summoned to an almost dramatic conversation or situation, is being asked to become a part of something at least formalistic in character. [edit]
PlaceBecause of the emphasis that falls, ironically, on place in this broader situation, the weight of this word deserves some direct attention. [edit]
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The Book of Mormon > Alma > Chapter 32
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Questions[edit]
Verse 6
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Verse 7
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Verse 8
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Lexical notes[edit]
Verse 6
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Verse 8
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Exegesis[edit]
Verse 6Alma is happy that the people are in teachable circumstances. He is not rejoicing because of their temporal trials, but that their trials have made them receptive to learning that they can worship the Lord in all aspects of their lives. The phrase "in a preparation to hear the word of God" seems a bit unusual, if not awkward. However, an interesting use of the word prepare in the KJV of Ex 15:2 might help open up an interesting reading of this phrase. In Ex 15:2, the Hebrew word navah is translated (effectively) as "prepare a habitation" in a hymn of praise. This lexical relationship in Hebrew between praising and dwelling highlights a kind of reversal that is going on here between the Zoramites who do not give place to the Zoramite poor to worship, and the Zoramite poor who give a place for Alma and Amulek to preach. [edit]
Verse 7The first word of this verse, "therefore," is curious. It seems to be a continuation of, and yet abrupt end to, the relationship between the poor and non-poor Zoramites which has formed such an important theme in these first few verses of the chapter. The very mention of the fact that Alma "say[s] no more to the other multitude" seems a bit superfluous. That is, why doesn't the narrator just move on with the narrative and let the course of the narrative demonstrate the fact that Alma says no more to the other multitude? It seems there is a kind of scarcity or economics that is being emphasized here: Alma turns away from the non-poor because the other multitude was humble—metaphorically, Alma is taking his seed and casting to the most fertile ground he can find. This first phrase of the verse might be profitably considered in light of Alma 12:10ff where Alma talks explicitly about those who will receive the "lesser portion" of the word. Although it seems there are many similarities between Alma's discussion there and here, such a comparison seems to make the "therefore" here all the more striking. That is, it seems here that the extent to which the non-poor receive the word is not just contingent on their own reception or hard-heartedness toward the word, but also on the next best alternative that Alma faces. [edit]
Verse 8Alma first addresses the mental/spiritual state of the Zoramite poor. The point is rather clear, and certainly rather common in scripture: if they are humble, and Alma judges them so to be, then they are blessed, because they are able to be taught. There is no mystery in his claim. But what is ultimately very interesting about this verse is that it is so isolated. It marks the first word of a chapters-long discourse, the first word of a widely celebrated speech by Alma, the first word of the event that will result in the all-out years-long war that consumes the remainder of the Book of Alma. And yet it seems to have absolutely nothing to do with the verses that immediately follow it. Either Alma is a very inconsistent speaker, changing gears a dozen words into his discourse (something the editor of the text had the duty to rearrange or fix somehow), or Alma is doing something rather surprising (something the editor of the text was well aware of, and which that editor would have wanted the reader to pick up on). If verse 9 marks a major departure from the content of this first word, Alma nonetheless returns to the subject in verse 12 to form an inclusio, that is, to section off verses 8-12 as a sort of textual unit worth discussing in and of itself. The role these five verses play in the discourse Alma is here giving is enormous: interpretation of the whole of the seed/word analogy depends on how one reads these first verses. [edit]
Verse 9Following the critical language of verse 8 (critical in the technical sense, not the pejorative), which draws very much on the face-to-face situation in which the Zoramites and Alma find themselves (simply put: Alma engages the Zoramites quite personally in verse 8), verse 9 is marked by an appeal to the realm of absolute reason, an appeal that is to come to fruition (albeit ironically) in verse 10. That is, if in verse 8 Alma engages the Zoramites personally in his critical assessment of their mental/spiritual state, in verse 9 he simply notes a fact--a particular statement by the proffered Zoramite--apparently leaving the relational (Alma and the Zoramites) to speak in more universal terms, in more absolute terms, in more rational or even philosophical terms. However, even in the appeal to reason, Alma relativizes it: this is not a question of a universal proposition ("one might say"), but of something the Zoramites have specifically said ("thy brother hath said"). In the end, then, this verse is marked by a sort of tension between the situational reality of Alma's facing the Zoramites and an appeal to reason (taken, as it always must be, in absolute terms). This tension, however, can be explored more carefully in the next verse, where it comes to fruition. [edit]
Verse 10This verse presents an obviously rhetorical question. But categorization is not enough here: the nature of rhetorical questions greatly affects the meaning of this verse. A rhetorical question is curious precisely because it is not to be answered. That is, a rhetorical question purposefully stops up conversation, encounter, engagement, and situation. In effect, a rhetorical question calls for an abolition of the existential reality of the face-to-face encounter, and it makes this call in the name of reason, of absolute reason. In other words, Alma's question, precisely because it does not call for an answer, is presupposed to have an answer logically bound up within itself anyway. The question, that is, is understood from the very start to call on a sort of universal or absolute reason in order to provide the answer, without the necessity of the situational realization of that answer. In short, a rhetorical question is always, in and of itself, an appeal to non-passional, non-situational, non-personal reason. But even as Alma's rhetorical question makes its obvious appeal, it calls that very appeal into question. In fact, it does so doubly, and it does so from the very start, questioning the absolution of reason through and through. Doubly: "Behold I say unto you" on the one hand, and "do ye suppose" on the other. In a sense, these two phrases cancel the nature of the rhetorical question. Or rather, they reveal more precisely the essence of a rhetorical question: a rhetorical question is precisely rhetorical because it is bound up with rhetoric, the situational reality, the face-to-face encounter that calls for rhetoric in the first place. In that Alma specifically mentions his own speaking, and because he specifically mentions the audience's supposing, he recognizes explicitly--and twice--that his appeal to absolute reason is situational, is relative. In short, just as verse 9, this verse is characterized by a fundamental tension: Alma at once makes an appeal to absolute reason and cancels the same in a return to the situational, the relative. The tension opens here, and it continues to build over the next two verses. Perhaps ironically, this textual insight into the tension between the situational and the absolute parallels wonderfully the actual content of Alma's rhetorical question (and in this way it prepares for the major discussion of the seed/word still to come). In suggesting, according to the unspoken answer to the question, that worship outstrips place (and in the next verse, time), Alma makes an appeal to a sort of absolute form of worship, perhaps a way of being that might saturate every place (and, for that matter, every time). At the same time, however, it is quite clear that worship must take place somewhere, at some time: worship--which most often means in the scriptures quite simply to bow before someone/something--is undeniably a situational reality, something performed in space and time. In other words, the same tension seems to be at work in the actual content of Alma's rhetorical question that appears in its structure: worship--what the Zoramite poor are being denied--is at once a question of situational reality and a question of absolute being. Alma confirms this point with his reference to the time of worship in the next verse, but then the subject is left off until Alma 33:2. In other words, if Alma makes an appeal here to the tension bound up in the very question the Zoramites have raised, he seems to think it worth discussing the nature of the tension--though not the tension itself--as some length before returning to the precise tension of the issue raised by the Zoramite question. It is the textual tension, then, more than the tension of the content, that must guide intepretation of the remainder of the present chapter, and the tension of the content can be returned to subsequently in discussion of chapter 33. [edit]
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The Book of Mormon > Alma > Chapter 32
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Questions[edit]
Verse 12
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Lexical notes[edit]
Verse 12
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Exegesis[edit]
Verse 11Just as in verse 10, Alma presents a structural tension in his second rhetorical question: while the rhetorical question he asks makes an appeal to absolute reason, his "I would ask" and his "do ye suppose" together ground the question in the situational reality of the missionary encounter. That is, there is a tension between the absolute, non-situational reason one should employ in thinking the question being asked, and yet Alma is careful to keep things located immediately in the situation in which the question is asked. This tension has been building, of course, since verse 9, and it will come to a first fruition in verse 12; thereafter it will guide the interpretation of the remainder of the chapter (see the commentary for verses 8-10). Moreover, if the content of the previous verse also embodies the same sort of tension by intertwining the concrete act of worship with the abstract idea of a kind of absolute worship, the same is accomplished in this verse. Verse 10 at once points to and subverts the concrete reality of place in the act of worship, while the present verse at once points to and subverts the concrete reality of time in the same. That is, together, these two verses underscore the absolute necessity of a concrete place and time for the concrete act of worship, and yet in their very nature as rhetorical questions, they seem together to imply that worship is something abstract, a sort of broader way of being rather than a concrete act. This tension, however, is left off at this point until Alma 33:2, while the remainder of the present chapter deals with the structural tension discussed in the paragraph above. [edit]
Verse 12If verses 9-11 are characterized by appeal to absolute reason, it appears quite clear that Alma abandons any such appeal in the present verse. That is, the rhetorical questions have ended, and Alma turns rather to a sort of direct engagement of the Zoramite poor in very existential terms. Leaving off the rhetorical questions entirely (Alma himself does not answer them here), he returns in full force to the situational reality of the face-to-face encounter: "I say unto you." In four words, Alma brings the Zoramites to a direct engagement with himself, and anything he goes on to say in this verse will be characterized by that situational reality. In fact, if one is inclined to read the phrase immediately following these first four words as universal in some sense, it is worth pointing out that Alma uses the word "well" rather than the word "good" to make his first point: rather than making some absolute claim about their being cast out of their synagogues, Alma describes the situation as "well," relativizing it by using an adverb. Likewise, when Alma goes on to speak of the necessity of learning wisdom, he immediately relativizes that point as well: "it is necessary that ye should learn wisdom." Undeniably, every hint of the universal, of the absolute, of non-passional reason has disappeared when Alma turns to this verse. Or perhaps not entirely, since Alma's injunction to the Zoramites is precisely that they "may learn wisdom," that universal, rational, absolute understanding that allows for the possibility of doing things well or decently. But if the very word "wisdom" reintroduces the absolute, it is only reintroduced in tension with the paired word "humble": "that ye may be humble, and that ye may learn wisdom." Without any doubt, humility is always a question of a direct encounter, of a face-to-face reality. The tension, then, of the previous two verses is reintroduced in the present verse: humility is connected with wisdom, in that the two arise together. Curiously, this same tension characterizes almost all of the Old Testament wisdom writings. While most scholars agree that the wisdom writings draw on universal understanding, on the collective wisdom of many nations, on ideas and beliefs that transcend the particularities of Israelite thinking, those same wisdom writings nonetheless relate learning this wisdom--constantly--to one's relation to Jehovah specifically. The tension is embodied wonderfully in the rather common saying: "the fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom" (see Job 28:28; Ps 111:10; Prov 1:7; 9:10). If wisdom has some sort of absolute or universal appeal, it is nonetheless a direct result of the personal encounter one might have with a very personal and real God. In the end, this same tension between the universal and the particular characterizes the whole of the present chapter: right through to the end of chapter 32, there is a constant appeal to reason (even in the form of experimentalism) coupled with Alma's strict reminders that every word being spoken (every word and all the words) is spoken in a particular place and at a particular time and according to a face-to-face encounter that requires the personal engagement called "faith." Over the course of the chapter, the face Alma puts on the relation between faith and reason is constantly changing as each verse adds its conditional take on that relation (albeit implicitly). In order to watch the unfolding dynamic of that relation (between faith and reason) throughout the chapter, then, it is worth first taking the time to identify how that relation appears in these first five verses of Alma's discourse. What, then, is the relation between faith and reason as Alma lays it out in these first five verses, already shown to be quite rich in implication? And just asking the question this way draws out an important point that is too easily missed. Verse 9 offers an initial reading of the relation between faith and reason that the present verse overturns. When Alma cites the leading poor Zoramite's words, he seems to recognize in it an implicit exchange of faith for reason: "What shall we do?" makes an appeal to reason, seeks for reasons, for reasoning; and this appeal to reason overthrows what had been, before, an explicit life according to faith (the Zoramite poor had before been in their synagogues to "worship our God"). In a sense, the Zoramite appeal to Alma follows a simple logic: since we have been denied any possibility of a faith relation ("cast out of our synagogues"), we appeal to reason, we seek at the hands of reason some way to remain faithful. In short, the Zoramite poor seem to be trying to replace the faith relation with an alternate faith-like relation grounded in the categories of reason. Verses 10-11 overthrow that implicit shift, but only with verse 12 does Alma make his point explicit: being "cast out of your synagogues" does not issue in a sort of necessary appeal to reason, but rather in "a lowliness of heart," being "necessarily brought to be humble." That is, in the end, the denial of their places in the synagogue results in the very possibility of faith, according to Alma. Whether Alma means by this to suggest that their religious practices before were quite clearly a sort of rational religion rather than a religion of faith is not quite clear, but that Alma seems to be reversing the implicit logic of verse 9 is certainly suggestive on these lines: the rational is exchanged for the faithful, not vice versa. This reversal is vital to the development of Alma's theme. [edit]
Verses 13-14In a discourse perfectly saturated by the theme of the "word," verse 14 is undeniably fundamental: it marks the first instance of "word" in the discourse. The introduction is somewhat peculiar in that "the word" comes into the story in terms of the process of humiliation: "they are more blessed who truly humble themselves because of the word." In fact, there are several difficulties about the very phrase in which "the word" appears, all of which must be dealt with at some length. The idea being introduced in this difficult phrase is, it must be noticed, a new idea. The "And now" with which the verse begins is a rather common locution in the Book of Mormon for clearing the slate, or for making some other necessary break in the logic of discourse. Here it is clear that the phrase means something like: "But I'm getting ahead of myself, so let's leave off that business and take up an earlier statement as a new point of departure." Curiously, the statement he takes up appears only in the previous verse (13), but the latter part of the previous verse makes a rather rapid series of steps to a point well beyond the question of being blessed through compelled humility. Here Alma returns to that point. But if Alma returns to the question of compelled humility, he returns to it only to set it against a far better situation. That is, verse 14 opens up a kind of humility that outstrips the humility of verse 13, a kind of humility that is, regardless of its apparently lesser nature, nonetheless exalted (from "mercy" to being "saved" in so many words). If compelled humility, despite its lesser nature, results in salvation, it is worth considering the comparison and relation Alma introduces in verse 14 quite carefully. Set against compelled humility is a sort of chosen humility, perhaps even--as awful as it sounds--a willful humility. But the nature of this chosen humility is somewhat peculiar: one humbles oneself "because of the word." Perhaps what is emphasized here is the "heard" nature of the word: humility that issues from hearing is being exalted over humility that issues from something else, in fact, from seeing, as will become clear in verse 17. At work, then, in verses 13-14 is a comparison between two kinds of humility, one that issues from seeing (the lesser) and one that issues from hearing (the greater). If the former can ("sometimes") result in repentance and therefore mercy (which, if found and maintained through endurance to the end, can result in salvation), the latter is only summed up for now as resulting in being "more blessed." What perhaps deserves closest scrutiny within consideration of these two verses particularly is how it is that "seeing" compels humility but not salvation, while "hearing" apparently does not compel humility but when it results in humility it is apparently more likely to result in salvation. It might be, though there is of course absolutely no evidence for it, that there is a play on words at work on the level of the ancient language (assuming that some relation to the original Hebrew was, by this point, still intact). The most common root in the OT that becomes one form or another of the word "humility" is `nh, which has two different, but perhaps related, meanings (most scholars claim that there are two very different roots at work in the Hebrew language, though some try to connect the two roots as linked etymologically). In one register, `nh means "to answer" or "to respond"; in another register, it means "to subjugate" or even "to browbeat." Variations of the word "humility" are generally only read into the word when it appears to derive from the latter of these two meanings: to be humble is, in Hebrew, to be subjugated or conquered (the verb can even have reference to rape). Suggested here is a compelled humility, a humility that results from a show of power, an act of subjection. But over against this might be set the former meaning of the root: "to answer" or "to respond." If this verbal root might also be read as a facet of humility, it might be read to suggest a kind of chosen humility like the one mentioned above: in response or as answer to a call, one comes in humility before the caller. In short, there may be a play between two very different meanings of the same Hebrew root: a humility-as-subjected (`nwh) and a humility-as-response/answer (`nwh also?). Ultimately, though, whether the linguistic speculation above is justified, something like the distinction worked out there is helpful in thinking about the two kinds of humility Alma discusses: one that responds to a call, over against one that is forced into its submission by a show of power. In the end, "seeing" issues in the latter kind of humility because the eyes are dazzled by the power of the other that imposes, while "hearing" issues in the former kind of humility because the ears are open to the calling word (the cry, even, for help?) of the other: a word, a summons, or a petition draws out a very different humility from a brazen show of absolute or total power. It might be that "hearing-humility" opens the way to a greater blessing because it results in communion or in a real, personal relation: the one who hears a summoning word is called to an encounter, called perhaps to help the other, and so is called to communion, to a common work. On the other hand, "seeing-humility," because it follows the unquestionable show of power, is unavoidable, but it does not necessarily issue in salvation (which apparently must be thought relationally, communally) because one's ultimate subjection cancels the possibility of community. (All of this might be thought in terms of the difference between the servant and the son: the son hears the words of his father, while the servant receives the physical--the visible--rod.) [edit]
Verse 15An unresolved difficulty from the previous verse carries over into verse 15: how is it that one can "humble oneself" without the process being ultimately self-centered or proud by nature? That is, how can self-deprecation not be selfish? The wording this verse uses is curious though: "he that truly humbleth himself...." Might it be that Alma has two kinds of self-humiliation at work, one that he would label "true," and another he would label false? This calls on the wording at the close of verse 14: "who truly humble themselves because of the word." This phrase might be understood to suggest, along with the wording of verse 15, that all humbling is self-humbling, but that there are different ways to go about doing it. However, verse 6 may suggest otherwise, since there Alma rejoices because "their afflictions had truly humbled them." This may, in fact, suggest another way of reading the phrase with which verse 14 closes: that Alma feels it necessary to say "truly" as well as "because of the word" suggests that these are two separate, ultimately unconnected concepts: the trueness of one's humility is not a function of how one humbled oneself (whether "because of the word" in verse 14 or whether "compelled" to do so in verse 25). But whatever else might be said about how one arrives at "true humility," it is clear in these verses that Alma understands the process to be a reflexive one: one humbles oneself. And so the difficulty remains: how can "true humility" (whether compelled or voluntary) be achieved through a self-imposed act (which would seem to imply a kind of self-ishness)? The difficulty seems to be all the more frustrating because the very nature of pride—presumably the opposite of humility—is self-ishness. Humbling onself sounds like an act of abrogating pride proudly. On the other hand and at the same time, how could humility ultimately be "true" if it were absolutely imposed on one? If pride is self-centeredness, it is not at all clear how any outside force could ever, in and of itself, annihilate one's focus on oneself. In the end, all that any "outside" influence can do is either to call (as a word) or to compel (as a force, but not as an absolute force). In fact, humility, it appears, is something that can only be an act of self, a kind of self-abrogation brought about by the self. This is as much as to say that humbling oneself is a paradoxical act: the self asserts itself in its own self-disregard. That is, in losing its "life," it finds it. One might say in the end that humility amounts to a reorientation of the self, a rupture of the self that allows it to survive precisely in that it becomes something else or is directed toward something else: rather than beholding nothing but itself in a mirror (pride), the self becomes a reflection of God's continually directedness towards the poor, the suffering, the teachable. Hence in humbling oneself, one humbles one's self, de-centers it, draws attention away from it, shows it that the whole world does not bow before it. These musings clarify the call of the word: the suffering (servant?) speaks the word, calls one to offer relief, and so summons the self to relativize itself. But if what Alma means in speaking of those "who truly humble themselves because of the word" becomes clearer here, the meaning of being "compelled to be humble because of their exceeding poverty" becomes somewhat more difficult. That is, because the compelling agent cannot have absolute sway, it is not entirely clear where one should delineate the power of that agent. Where does one draw the line? Perhaps the answer is in verse 12, where Alma employs the phrase, "ye are necessarily brought to be humble." This might imply that being compelled is less a question of force than it is a question of necessity: when one is compelled to be humble, outside circumstances have made it necessary for one to humble oneself; that is, if one does not humble oneself, there are to be negative consequences the would-be humble would like to avoid. In a sense, this establishes the difference between the two kinds of humility Alma is describing. The greater one is to humble oneself because of the petition of the suffering; the lesser is to humble oneself by—essentially—threat. This seems to make sense of the tendency Alma has to label the greater "to humble oneself" and the lesser "to be compelled to be humble." In the one, one is active, while in the other, one is passive. If this is ultimately the difference Alma is establishing here, then all of this opens onto the most important new point this verse introduces: that "much more blessed" are those who humble themselves according to the petition of the sufferer than those who "are compelled to be humble because of their exceeding poverty." In fact, after all of the above comments, this last phrase becomes all the more significant. It suggests, in the end, a further difference between the two kinds of humility Alma is describing, and one that may ultimately go to the heart of the matter. The greater kind of humility—the one that results in the greater blessing—is a responsive humility, while the lesser kind of humility is ultimately a petitionary humility. That is, the two kinds of humility being explored here represent two figures who come face to face in a very real existential encounter: the one who is "compelled to be humble because of [his] exceeding poverty" petitions the one who "truly humbleth himself, and repenteth of his sins." The one who is, in the end, compelled to be humble seeks sustenance at the hands of the one who willingly humbles herself, and far blessed is it to give willingly than to beg necessarily. It is worth noting that something very like this situation is at work in the very encounter in which all of these words are spoken. Alma and his brethren have been teaching in all willing humility (though not one of his sons, which will become a major question later on; cf. Alma 39:2), and suddenly the Zoramite poor have come forward in compelled humility to petition Alma. The humble encounter the humble, but there are two very different kinds of humility at work here, as Alma himself is describing: responsive humility (when one humbles oneself) and petitionary humility (when one is compelled to be humble). Perhaps the most fascinating detail of all in all of this is that the former, the responsively humble, humble themselves precisely at the word of the latter, the petitionarily humble. All of this grounds the sharp turn the discourse takes in the next couple of verses. [edit]
Related links
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The Book of Mormon > Alma > Chapter 32
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Questions[edit]
Verse 17
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Verse 18
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Verse 20
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Lexical notes[edit]
Verse 16
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Verse 17
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Exegesis[edit]
Verse 16It is only with this verse that Alma finally brings these questions of humility to bear on the question of faith—or at least, of belief. This change is perhaps signaled by the transitioning word "Therefore" with which the verse begins: the first part of this verse ("Therefore, blessed are they who humble themselves without being compelled to be humble") seems essentially to be a summary of everything that has gone before. If this is how Alma intended it, it is somewhat peculiar in a number of ways. For example, in the previous verses, there was a clear emphasis on the difference between two types of humility and hence on the relative blessedness of those who come to be humble in these two very different ways. Here, however, Alma reduces this whole discussion to a single point: blessed are those who humble themselves without the necessity of being humble. In fact, if this verse marks a kind of departure from earlier emphases, it might also be read as effecting a retroactive interpretation on the verses that precede it. When Alma introduces the theme of relative blessedness in verse 14, it appeared that he was simply introducing a better kind of humility, a kind of "extra mile" way of becoming humble. But here it becomes clear that he meant something else, really. Now it becomes clear that he meant something like "If one is compelled to be humble, praise the heavens because there is a possibility of repentance; but let's not allow anyone to believe that that is the way things are supposed to go: God's plan is ultimately laid out for those who will humble themselves because of the word!" If this more exclusive view is difficult to read in verses 14-15, it becomes clear at this point. In short, the place Alma has got to by this verse makes quite clear that verses 14-15 are to mark a corrective transition, a clarification of the use of the word "blessed" in relation to those who are humble because they are compelled to be so. This retroactive interpretation Alma offers in clear terms here opens the possibility for a major transition in the discourse, from the question of humility to the question of faith. After reinterpretively summarizing the thrust of the previous verses, Alma announces quite explicitly that he is changing the story: "or rather, in other words...." These two little phrases are of the utmost importance interpretively: Alma is ready to translate this question of humility into another language so to speak, that of "belief" (or "faith"?) and "knowledge." It is significance that any mention of humility drops out of the verse after the word "rather." The new terms will dominate the remainder of the discourse (Alma does again return to the question of humility in verse 25, but only for a moment, and only as a kind of aside that assures that he does not consider all of the Zoramite poor to have been compelled to be humble. Even so, that verse seems somewhat out of place, and it is possible that there is an editing error at work in the text). From the start, it appears that the "translation" being effected is quite simple: "belief" or "faith" replaces "humbling oneself," and "knowledge" replaces "being compelled to be humble." But if this "translation" seems so simple at the beginning, it is not long before it becomes as complex as the previous verses. It is interesting that baptism appears here in the discourse not only for the first time, but also for the last time! In fact, it is perhaps of vital importance that it only appears here, of all places, at the heart of this major transition in Alma's language (shifting from humility to the question of faith/knowledge). It is perhaps, on this account, also important that the phrase "stubbornness of heart" appears only at this point of the chapter and directly in connection with the question of baptism. But if both "baptism" and "stubbornness of heart" are introduced here, the role they play in the logic of the discourse is hardly clear at first. For example, one might expect them to mediate the "translation" of terms, that is, to come between the question of humility and the question of faith/knowledge. In a broad sense, perhaps they do, but in the strict sense—looking very closely at this verse, that is—they do not: strictly speaking, "baptism" and "stubbornness of heart" are introduced between belief and knowledge. Literarily, one might say that the question of "baptism" and "stubbornness of heart" is stretched out between faith and knowledge, that it is posed by the clash between faith and knowledge, that it forms the very tension between faith and knowledge. And reading the verse quite straightforwardly, this seems precisely to be the point: if one might be "baptized without stubbornness of heart," which would apparently be an active manifestation of one's belief, there seems to be the implication that one might also do so with stubbornness of heart, which would apparently be an active manifestation of one's knowledge. In fact, this last way of putting things emphasizes what is certainly central to this singular mention of baptism: here—and only here in this discourse—are faith and knowledge, compelled humility and willful humility, translated into action, into something that the believer or knower, the compelled-to-be-humble or the willfully-humble, does. Here, then, at the very heart of the discourse, where Alma can exchange the language of humility (with its individualistic emphasis) for the language of faith/knowledge (with its inter-personal emphasis, that is, with its emphasis on self-transgression), all of these questions surface, as it were, rising up into the level of the active, of the "real." What is fascinating about this "surfacing" is that both faith and knowledge, just as both kinds of humility, (can) result in the same outward, active manifestation: baptism. That only here is there a question of this outward, active manifestation highlights an important facet of Alma's discourse: he is not so much trying to teach the Zoramite poor about what they should do as he is trying to get them to think about the motivations and—more importantly—the relations that underlie or even propel one's doings. At least to some degree, it is this de-emphasis on the active that grounds the Zoramites' question in the first verse of the next chapter. In fact, the way the Zoramites ask the question there perhaps betrays the fact that they hardly understood what Alma was trying to accomplish in this discourse, but that question will have to be explored further along in the text. In the course of these last comments, a most important aspect of what is at work has emerged: this "translation" of terms amounts to an emphatic shift from the individualistic to the self-transgressive, and this shift remains to be explored. And it will become clear that the transitioning "stubbornness of heart" will lie at the core of this question. It should be pointed out that humility is, of course, always a question of engagement: one only humbles oneself at the call or under the gaze of another. However, whether it is the commanding gaze or the petitioning word that brings it about, humility is ultimately something individual, an act—to some degree at the very least—that one wills to do. Moreover, the word "humility" points more to a state of affairs, to a way of being in the world, than it does to an interpersonal relation. That is, humility remains a question of the individual, though it bears a mark or the trace of an-other. Over against this, however, is the relation of belief/faith, as well as the relation of knowledge. If the former is quite clearly an inter-personal relation in English, the latter certainly is in Hebrew (and in the Indo-European root from which the English comes): one knows someone or something, just as one believes (or has faith in) someone or something. Both faith and knowledge, that is, imply a transgression of the self, a kind of transcendence. The importance of Alma's "translation" here is therefore to be found in the connection between these two forms of self-transgression and the relative marks or traces they leave on the humble individual. Alma draws a connection between humbling oneself by the word and believing, as he draws a connection between being compelled to be humble and knowing. This is made especially clear by the phrases "being brought to know the word, or even compelled to know." The point, in the end, seems to be this: though both knowledge and faith result in humility, the humble knower bears the mark of the violence of knowledge, while the humble believer bears the trace of the revelation of faith. The difference between these two kinds of humility is bound up with one's stubbornness—or greatness—of heart: the hard heart must be broken in the violence of "being brought to know..., even compelled to know," while the soft heart has written in it the lawful word of the other (cf. Jer 31:33). But if in the previous verses (that is, before the translation) Alma deals only with the distinction between the two kinds of humility, it is only here with the translation of humility into the faith/knowledge distinction that Alma can begin to relate the two to each other productively. That is, in dealing with humility alone, Alma only opposes the two kinds of humility, but here he begins to explore the relation between faith and knowledge. That these two intertwined or are connected is vital, since the interrelation between them becomes the subject matter of the remainder of the discourse. It is probably important to note, on this point, that Alma can only explore the relationship between the two kinds of humility once the common term of "humility" is translated out of the discussion. Though the two humilities are different from each other, Alma has intimated from the start that both are good situations, precisely because they are both humilities. In order to discuss how they relate to one another, or in order to set the one above the other and then explore how one might exchange the one for the other, Alma must translate the two versions of humility into a stronger opposition, an opposition that is not obviously mediated by a shared middle term. The translation of humility into the pair faith/knowledge allows Alma to do this, and it is already in this first verse that he begins to explore the curious relationship between faith and knowledge. The relationship, as Alma lays it out in this first verse on the subject: faith can but does not need to follow knowledge. Obviously the terms of this first formulation are hardly clear yet (having only just been translated), but perhaps a couple of basic things can be said about this first explanation of the relation between faith and knowledge. To say that faith—or belief—can follow knowledge is to call into question common presuppositions about the relation between faith and knowledge. Alma's very first word on this subject clearly suggests that while faith does not need to follow knowledge, it certainly can. Over against this, one generally assumes that faith is a necessary step on the way towards knowledge, not vice versa. This common view might be confirmed on one level in the assertion that one can believe before knowing, but it seems to be quite clearly contradicted with the assertion that one might be "brought to know... or even compelled to know, before they will believe." There are several possible ways of explaining this difficulty from the start. For example, one might assume that belief or faith is a kind of practical relation while knowledge is a purely intellectual or rational relation. On such a reading, one might point to the example of the person who knows better than to do something, but does it anyway because she does not exercise belief/faith in the practical moment. While there is a certain appeal in this reading, however, it seems to do some violence to the meaning of the word "belief." Another way this might be read is to suggest that Alma is trying to talk about a very unlikely occurrence when he mentions knowing before believing. That is, perhaps he assumes with the rest of humankind that belief generally precedes knowledge as it clearly does in scientific method, but that there are occasions where someone will simply confront something so directly that anything like "method" has been canceled by the suddenness of the knowledge, as when someone experiences a phenomenon before being taught about it. There is perhaps also some appeal in this reading of the situation, but there is obviously some danger in reducing all knowledge and belief relations to a scientific or methodological point of view. Perhaps the best and most fruitful way to read this curious relation between faith and knowledge is to relegate faith to one kind of experience, something one might call "religious" or even "ethical" (both of which might be summed up in the word "spiritual"), and knowledge to another kind of experience, something one might call "historical" or even "scientific" (both of which might be summed up in the word "temporal"). This reading perhaps has the potential to reduce or even to cancel the implied relation between faith and knowledge, but if it is treated carefully, it will not. But what does it mean to divide things up this way? Perhaps a few words can be said about it even at this early point in the discourse. Even this early in the discourse, one can delineate the difference between knowing the word and believing the word. To believe something—to trust something, to have faith in something—is to give oneself to it without reserve. That is, it is not to count the cost, not to subject the thing in question to a kind of economic test. Rather, to believe is simply to give onself over, for better or for worse. On the other hand, to know the word is to appropriate it. If faith is a handing over of oneself, knowledge is a grasping, a taking, a kind of conquest. To know the word, one must be able to define it (that is, to finitize it), to label or name it, to explain it. To trust the word, one needs merely to fall before it, to give it full sway. It seems quite clear, then, what it means to say that faith can be called "religious," "ethical," or "spiritual": to believe is to sacrifice oneself in the name of the trusted, in the name of the other, of God. And it seems quite clear what it means to say that knowledge can be called "historical," "scientific," or "temporal": to know is to draw the other into one's own history, into one's own way of thinking about the world. But what is most important about the way this verse says things—and from the very beginning—is that faith and knowledge both center on the word. The word is, of course, the very mainstay of the scientific (from nomenclature to the published paper); but the word is just as much what the calling God and the petitioning sufferer speaks (from "be ye perfect" to "help!"). In short, the word can play two very different roles, and the remainder of this discourse is to work out these interrelations. "Without being brought to know the word, or even compelled to know." It seems curious that Alma seems to be describing here a state which does not apply to those whom he is addressing. That is, if he is addressing the poor who have been compelled to be humble, why does he mention the possibility that they could've humbled themselves through the word of God without being compelled? It may be that Alma is describing a process which will apply to them again in the future sometime—that is, just because they're currently humble, does not mean that they will remain humble. This idea seems to be supported in verses 24-25 where Alma elaborates on what he may've been intending here. It may also be that that Alma knows that his words will be heard by those who have not humbled themselves and so he is mentioning this for their benefit. [edit]
Verses 17"Yea." The first word of the verse seems a bit strange since it seems that Alma is, rather than affirming what has been said in the previous verse, taking up a position contrary to the one he has been advocating. But perhaps this is not so strange since he has been describing his position in a negative way, underscored by the word "without." The word "yea" calls attention to this negative description affirmatively, deepening the sense of contrast with the ensuing description of sign-seekers. In fact, the play of negation and affirmation is quite rich in this verse. In the last verse, the believer (without positive knowledge) was described negatively, drawn out in contrast to the negative position of the knower. But at the heart of this negative affirmation was a double negative: the affirming, positive word was obviously at some distance from would-be-knower, who was thereby marked as a negative. That is, the negative description of the one who affirms her belief is grounded in the undeniable negativity of would-be-knower, she who seeks a sign and is for that very reason cut off (negatively) from positive knowledge. Because of the play of the word, only the believer can affirm anything. If this verse opens with a blatant affirmation ("yea"), it goes on quickly to present the would-be-knower again as pretentiously negative: the would-be-knower seeks "a surety" but can never have it, even by "a sign from heaven." That is, if it appears that the would-be-knower is positive in some sense (asking for a positive sign), the absence of the sign ironically dispossesses the would-be-knower, and hence negates the positivity of knowledge. Only the believer can affirm, and that positively. And yet—and this point cannot be missed—the affirmation of the believer is necessarily founded on a profound negation: the believer must negate herself (her stubbornness) and her knowledge (any compelling sign) in order to affirm her faith. In the end, the whole movement of positivity and negativity in these two verses is profoundly paradoxical, but based on a paradox familiar to any reader of the words of Christ: one must lose one's life (negativity) in order to find it (affirmation), but if one seek's one's life (positivity) one will inevitably lose it (negativity). After the play of the positive and negative are introduced, Alma concretizes what has been, to this point, perhaps abstract. Rather than speaking simply in terms of differences, and hence of concepts, he now turns to the concrete situation by describing "many who do say." The hypothetical air that has prevailed to this point suddenly collapses, and Alma sets before his hearers the "actual" words of many "actual" people. That the first two words of the "quotation" are "If thou," and that the speaker of the quotation uses the plural first person ("we"), suggests that Alma is doing one of two things: either he is (1) drawing on an actual concrete example from his own past preaching experiences, one (or many) in which a whole crowd rejected him specifically, his message specifically (perhaps even his only just past preaching to the rich Zoramites); or he is (2) phrasing this concrete example in terms of the actual situation in which he now stands, the Zoramite poor being the "we" and Alma being the "thou." Either one of these ways of reading the text is rich: on the one hand, we find Alma hoping that the Zoramite poor will be other than what he has yet experienced in preaching, and his passion therefore enriches the encounter; or on the other hand, we find Alma trying to place the Zoramites into an uncomfortable role, one he is precisely condemning, in order to help them to see where they might be standing. Again, both of these possibilities are quite rich: if, on the one hand, Alma is drawing on the past, and that past is the preaching to the Zoramite rich, he is being quite brave, since the Zoramite rich are apparently still standing behind him while he delivers this sermon (and whether or not he meant this, they probably understood it this way); and if, on the other hand, Alma is casting the Zoramite poor in the role he is presenting, he offers a kind of pre-judgment before they have spoken the word clearly enough to be judged, giving them thereby the opportunity to change things before the evidence has to come in. However it is read, this concretizing of the abstract is fascinating and rich. If Alma is describing, in his quoting those "who do say," those who are "brought to know the word, or even compelled to know," it is wonderfully ironic that they begin by saying "If thou wilt...." Those who are compelled, apparently against their wills, can only place themselves in that position by underscoring the will of the believer: "If the believer will," she can show a sign, while the would-be-knower can only depend upon the believer. If this again summons the interplay of the positive and negative, it enriches it as well, adding to it the question of will. Curiously, the would-be-knower specifically affirms the will of the believer (of her will-to-believe?), and thereby negates her own will. And this play of wills perhaps introduces into Alma's discourse a kind of play between determinism and freedom, which might, all over again, be called the contrast between the historical, scientific, or temporal and the religious, ethical, or spiritual. In the movement of faith, one freely gives oneself to the other (religiously, ethically, spiritually), while in the movement of knowledge, one's activity is determined from the start (historically, scientifically, temporally). All of this is confirmed all the more ironically in the last few words of Alma's "quotation": "then we shall believe." The faith or belief that the would-be-knower is to achieve beyond knowledge (a knowledge brought about by the sign) is in itself determined: "shall," not "will." That is, if belief is, for the believer, an act of will (a giving over or negating of one's will in the most profound affirmation of one's will), for the would-be-knower, belief is—and can only be—a determined, historical, scientific, temporal occurrence, something that "shall" happen. Of course, all of these comments do not yet even begin to think about the meaning of the demand for a sign specifically, which is perhaps the richest part of this verse. It is significant that, from the very beginning, the question of signs is raised in terms of the concrete encounter, one Alma and the Zoramites are presently engaged in. In abstract terms, the "sign" is never mentioned, but only now that the concrete is the scene of further thinking. But the significance of this can perhaps only be worked out in retrospect, after the most important question has been asked: what is a sign? Of course a full answer to this question would require something of a tour through much of twentieth century philosophy, but perhaps a few words can here be said that will open up the meaning of the present passage. The word itself, "sign," comes from an Indo-European root meaning "to cut," suggesting that the sign introduces a kind of split or division into the thing it stands for (being cut off, to some degree, from the thing it stands for). The sign inevitably directs the beholder to some actual thing, though this direction is based at the same time on a profound misdirection: the sign, by drawing attention to itself (emphasized here by the word "show"), reorders the thing it signifies according to its own logic. That is, inasmuch as the thing appears in the sign, it appears according to the ramifications of the sign: because the thing becomes a signified, it has been organized according to the logic of the signifier. At the very least, a sign is a doubling of the thing in question, a doubling that amounts to a reordering of the thing, and this reordering is entirely dependent on the internal nature of the signifier. What makes a sign so peculiar, however, is the "internal nature of the signifier." A signifier, as has been pointed out time and again in the twentieth century, derives its meaning only in relation to other signifiers. That is, the logic according to which the thing signified is to be reordered is the logic of the differences between so many signifiers, so many signs, all of which are already present to the beholder. In other words, to see a sign is to subject the thing the sign signifies to the broader sign system (presuppositions, etc.) of the beholder. In terms of the present verse, to demand "a sign from heaven" is to subject the word—or God Himself—to the sign system of the demander, that is, necessarily to reduce the word to the contemporary philosophy or theology, one that is apparently fixated on the visible ("show"). In fact it is precisely here that we might make a transition from these abstract comments to the particularities of the verse. The (hypothetical?) crowd Alma here quotes is obviously very visual by nature: knowledge comes by seeing, by being shown so many signs. Over against that, of course, Alma presents those who would hear, who would believe. But in demanding a sign, this quoted crowd essentially demands a reordering or reorganization of the audible in terms of the visible, of belief in terms of knowledge. What Alma begins to point out here—and what he makes absolutely clear with the next verse—is that to make such a demand is not to do things backwards, but to try to mix two things that are very different from one another by nature. The world of visible signs is being privileged beyond its capacity, and it is—in the demand for a sign—being given to overthrow completely the audible world of the spoken word. All of this must be absolutely clear before the rhetoric Alma employs in the following verse can be engaged: the demand of the would-be-knowers is to allow the invisible to be subjected to the visible so that the invisible can be regarded visibly. But what all of this works out to in the end can only be thought through in verse 18. "Show unto us a sign." The word show presages the famous phrase in verse 21, "things which are not seen." In building to that positive example of faith, Alma is giving here a negative example of someone who positively asks for a sign. The seeing-before-believing demand seems to follow a pattern of pride described by Alma and numerous other prophets that entails being prideful and making demands of God before first humbling themselves (for example, in Alma 5:54 those who suppose that they are better than one another are first described and then contrasted with those they persecute that "humble themselves"). Diachronically, the sequential emphasis here may also be related to the ordering described in Moses 3:5 where the creation occurs spiritually before it occurs "naturally" and the Word of creation is spoken before anything is seen. [edit]
Verse 18Alma begins this verse with explicit reference to himself: "Now I ask." This confirms a kind of identification between the "thou" of the quotation in the previous verse with Alma himself in some situation. That he goes in this same verse to say, "Behold, I say unto you," seems to confirm that the best reading of the quotation is that Alma is casting the Zoramite poor as the speakers in verse 17. That is, Alma prejudges them on purpose (notice that Alma seems himself to admit this in verse 24), in an attempt to bring them to the crisis of faith. Before looking, then, at the actual content of this verse, one must recognize that Alma has existentially placed the Zoramite poor in the situation of judgment, and they have been condemned: they are judged to be seeking after signs in some kind of attempt to derive faith (the audible) from knowledge (the visible). What is still more interesting about the situation is that Alma returns to the concrete here precisely by returning the use of rhetorical questions, something he had abandoned for the past half dozen verses. The meaning of this return is vital to understanding what Alma is trying to accomplish here. In the first verses of the discourse, Alma uses rhetorical questions while making absolute references to the concrete situation of his preaching, apparently to introduce a kind of tension between the pretension of absolute knowledge on the one hand (the absolute appeal to reason implied in the rhetorical question) and sheer mystery of the concrete preaching situation (the mystery, that is, of the face-to-face encounter). Here he does this all over again, albeit in a rather short question: "Now I ask, is this faith?" But if with these six words Alma has returned to the tension between the concrete and the absolutely abstract, he does so in order finally to begin to answer the questions he is raising. When he uses rhetorical questions before, he allows them to remain unanswered, but now he answers this rhetorical question immediately: "Behold, I say unto you, Nay." Curiously, he answers the rhetorical question with the same double appeal, on the one hand to reason, and on the other hand to the concrete face-to-face encounter. This tension is maintained throughout the discourse, and it of course is closely tied with the tension already discussed at some length: between knowing and believing, between seeing and hearing. Perhaps the strength of this is only quite visible when one takes Alma's rhetorical question and his rhetorical answer as a response to the petition of the would-be-knowers. But looking carefully at that will take some work. Alma has made of the Zoramite poor a group of would-be-knowers who are asking for a sign, and he responds with a rhetorical question, and then with a rhetorical answer. These two rhetorical moves accomplish something very specific in relation to the petition of the last verse: the concrete situation of the sign-asking is maintained in the "I" of "Now I ask" and in the "I" of "I say unto you," but the concrete is also transcended in the universal appeal to reason. This has the effect of rerouting the petition: Alma never responds directly to the petition by saying yes or no. They ask for a sign, and he does not really respond. Rather he distracts the petition by moving the discussion to another level. His question (and its answer, therefore) is, technically speaking, theoretical: "is this faith?" Here he seems to be picking up only on the last four words of the petition ("then we shall believe"). Essentially, then, Alma is questioning the very nature of their promise: the sign is, for the Zoramites, a pre-requisite to faith (belief), but Alma questions whether faith that comes after the witness of a sign is ultimately faith in any real sense. Not only does he question this, but his rhetorical answer confirms quite bluntly that it is not faith. And then Alma moves into a rather abstract discussion. After his "Nay," any concretizing rhetorical elements disappear for the remainder of the verse and for the whole of the following verse. In order to ground his rhetorical question and its rhetorical answer, Alma moves into the realm of reason—of definition. It is this claim that ultimately deserves the most attention here. The claim: "if a man knoweth a thing he hath no cause to believe, for he knoweth it." Alma seems here to revert to a rather common way of thinking about the relation between belief and knowledge: the latter is a stronger version of the former. That is, it sounds here as if Alma is putting belief and knowledge on a continuum, suggesting that they are fundamentally related. This stands in opposition to the tenor of the discourse to this point, because faith has been fundamentally opposed to knowledge throughout. Two questions, then: first, why does Alma recast the nature of belief here? and second, what is it he is ultimately saying here about belief/faith? In answer to this first question, one might suggest that he is conceding the Zoramite belief, something everyone would agree with, in a kind of Socratic move (Socrates always agreed with the presuppositions of those he spoke with, but he would help them to see how their presuppositions conflicted one with another according to the strict laws of logic). That is, though Alma himself understands faith to be something fundamentally different from knowledge, he recognizes that the Zoramites (or most people) do not so think, and so he meets up with their thinking here to argue from their point of view. Really, a better way to approach this problem is to seek to answer the second question first, because it is not clear really what Alma is saying about faith/belief here, and it will only be possible to think about the first question once that is clear. Hence, we turn to the second question. "Is this faith?" In answering his own rhetorical question, Alma does not dispute the claim of the sign-seeker that he will "know of a surety." Instead, Alma simply disputes that this is faith, leaving open the possibility (but only a possiblity) that knowledge "of a surety" can indeed be gained this way. In fact, Alma goes on in verse 19 to discuss the damning effect knowledge obtained this way can have, a move on Alma's part which seems to further suggest that seeing a sign can indeed lead to knowledge. This strongly suggests that the goal of the subsequent discussion is not about obtaining knowledge per se, but the manner in which this knowledge is gained. It seems that knowledge, even perfect knowledge, is not beneficial unless obtained by faith. [edit]
Verse 19"Knoweth the will of God and doeth it not." Later, Alma will talk about obtaining perfect knowledge by what seems to be a growing process of faith. But here, Alma is making the case that knowledge is undesirable because it is damning. The tension between these alternately negative and positive views of knowledge calls for a closer reading. It seems that knowledge is damning because the knower is at risk of not doing the will of God. So, for knowledge to be a desirable thing, it seems that the knower must not be at risk of failing to do God's word. This suggests, then, that the increase in faith described later should somehow be related to a decreasing risk of failing to do God's will. "Or only hath cause to believe." This phrase seems to suggest the possibility of having cause to believe but not believing. This seems similar to the idea expressed by the word "sometimes" in verse 13: there, those who are compelled to be humble only sometimes repent; here, those that have cause to believe only sometimes believe. The word "cause" then seems analogous to the way the word "compelled" is used above, but seems to have softer connotations here. That is, having a cause to believe is not the same as being forced to believe, but it opens the possibility of belief—or even more, the call to belief. [edit] |