R-Rated Scripture
Ammon Defends the Flocks of King Lamoni, courtesy of LDS Media Library
Through a little skit, Mormon children were learning a Book of Mormon story. In the scripture story, a missionary named Ammon gains favor with a king by cutting thieves’ arms off. The young girl portraying Ammon passed a bunch of paper arms to the person playing King Lamoni. “Thank you,” ad-libbed the King. “But I don’t like arms.”
I don’t either, at least, not bloody disembodied arms that have been amputated by force. I don’t like gruesome stories in general, especially those in which the protagonist happens to be the perpetrator. These stories make me squirm even when presented in scripture format. I feel even more antsy when kids are in the room. One night, after family scripture study, I admitted that I hoped the kids hadn’t understood a word of what we had read—it was Nephi’s account of chopping off Laban’s head.
Such stories aren’t limited to the Book of Mormon. The Bible is another rich source of questionable subject matter. Many of these stories are wisely deleted from children’s lessons—I’ve never heard the Lot family incest story in a Primary setting—but others are kids’ favorites. Consider the battle of Jericho, which features kid-pleasing trumpets, magically toppling walls, and um, genocide. That’s part of the reason that I enjoy sharing Bible stories with my children in Veggie Tales format, where wars are portrayed as pie fights and King David’s voyeurism is directed toward a rubber duckie instead of a bathing woman.
Mormon adults are studying the Old Testament in Sunday School this year. As I review these Bible stories with my fellow Mormons, it occurs to me that these stories aren’t necessarily uplifting to adults either. The most common way scriptural text is interpreted in Mormon circles is as an accurate, historical account that also serves as a perfect model for how we should live our lives. With this premise, discussions can delve into why murder or slavery or rape or whatever other objectionable action that particular scripture hero performed was good and right in that particular circumstance. The best explanation derived is usually that the hero’s actions were justified because he was perfectly inspired or perfectly obedient. Unfortunately, a side effect is concluding that immoral behavior can be excused when obeying orders or simply feeling inspired.
For grown-ups, pies and rubber duckies are probably not the solution. (Although personally, I would love to spend Sunday School reviewing Veggie Tales.) But letting go of the compulsion to interpret scripture in a way that mandates such extreme moral relativism could help. Here are some other ways to interpret the text:
1. Read the text as an historical account that is descriptive, not prescriptive. Instead of starting with the assumption that everything a scripture hero did was right, readers can first discuss whether or not it was. Moral lessons can be derived not only from emulating scriptural heroes, but from not repeating their mistakes.
2. Read the text as an historical account that may be flawed and biased because of the limited perspectives of its human writers. Nephi himself admitted that his words were “written in weakness.” (2 Nephi 33:4) Because virtually all scripture was written from a patriarchal viewpoint, feminist theologians often employ this strategy. How would the story have been different if it had been written from someone else’s perspective? Consider the biases that might have led the text’s author to interpret his own story in a certain way and the blind spots that may have prevented him from acknowledging his own errors.
3. Read the text as an allegory. We can derive insights just as well from fictional stories as from true ones, so in this kind of interpretation, historical accuracy is largely irrelevant. Mormons have a great deal of training in this kind of reading; we apply it regularly as we read scriptures that are overtly identified as parables, but several other scripture stories that we traditionally read as if they are history might be more uplifting when viewed from an allegorical perspective (especially considering that the literal historicity of many aspects of these accounts is questionable). Could chopping off those arms be a metaphor for eliminating barriers to serving people of another culture? Could the tumbling walls of Jericho symbolize overcoming our fears?
My kids are off on “Moroni’s Quest” youth conference where they will re-enact, pageant style, most of the Book of Mormon.
I told them they have my permission to not engage in the battles between the Lamanites and the Nephities, instead employing the Anti-Nephi-Lehi stance no matter what point they are at. I also said, please try not to glorify in the violence as heroic, the story of Ammon being one good example. It said he was kinder not to just have killed them, but honestly if you look at the story, does chopping off their arms and likely dooming them to a slow death, really better?
they probably would have bled to death within a few minutes, and I hate that the BoM makes me think about stuff like that 🙁
THANK YOU. I really wish I had known about these approaches to scripture in my youth, and not 6 years into teaching Gospel Doctrine, deeply suffering from a genocide, dismembering, slave-owning, woman-ignoring faith disruption.
I’m embarrassed to admit that I didn’t realize there was any other way to consider scriptures than literally until 2 years ago when I asked a friend, “do you believe that Adam really lived until he was 900?” to which they responded, “Absolutely not!” Thus began my introduction to the ins and outs of oral tradition, orality vs literacy, consensus on how Bible scholars envision the Old and New Testament evolved, etc. It was life-saving in how liberating it felt, but also scary, in that I felt like I had to unpack all my pre-metaphorical-scripture life’s assumptions.
I think I’ve had to teach every OT lesson that covered genocide this year. I didn’t catch quite as much genocide 4 years ago. (I’m in my 8th year as GD teacher). Sunday was the story of Saul and Samuel, and I hated this story most of all: Saul was commanded to take out the entire city, down to every child and suckling, and every animal. But he keep the king, and the best animals for a sacrifice. He killed every child with the sword and got in trouble for saving some COWS. I just can’t get up in front of people with material like that and be authentic!! There are only so many metaphors you can draw from genocide!
To complicate matters, I’m very much a pacifist, and a student of nonviolence principles.
So, thank you, again, for presenting the idea of not taking everything in the scriptures literally. It will take a very long while for the damage I’ve experienced via the scriptures to heal. I actually did use the Jericho story to illustrate how we can overcome fear by looking at it from all sides, and applying a holistic approach (faith, talking it out, brain science, mental and physical health, etc). As sure as a pendulum swings, though, I’m in a place right now where I can’t be sure that *any* of the scriptures are historically accurate, and pondering whether that’s ok for my faith. You don’t hear many people say these days, “the scriptures killed my faith” haha
I have loved teaching the Old Testament to Primary kids this year. We frequently talk about the things that people did wrong, and why they are wrong. I hope I am giving them a healthier approach to the scriptures than I got as a child.
While I can appreciate the Old Testament as a tool to discuss humanity, the violence and gore of the scriptures can be excessive and has been part of the reason I don’t read them. I enjoyed Karen Armstrongs book “The Bible, a biography.” It helped me put the stories in a context I hadn’t previously considered, especially in light of the edits or versions that may have been discarded throughout the centuries.
it also made me think of it less as scripture and more of a collection of writings and stories, some of which are poignant and beautiful, and some of which are completely bananas.
From it’s beginning, the Bible — especially the Old Testament — has been replete with every kind of bloodshed, gore, violence, sexual innuendo and perversion, not to mention depravity, it only reaffirms the depravity of today’s society as a fulfillment of prophecy, and today’s atrocities as nothing new by any stretch.
To avoid repeating the bad choices (what some call mistakes) of the past, it becomes all the more (and as such a moral) imperative for us to teach our children and those entrusted to us the importance of not only right and wrong, but also in doing so, to balance what we teach with avoiding TMI (too much information).
This helps avoid inviting either inappropriate and needless experimentation that benefits nobody, and only destroys lives in the process.
Fantastic article, and great comments to it already. In an ideal mormon/christian world the insights here would either be broadly known by the majority of members, or given in the Ensign, or general conference.
I was intrigued by the title of the article and thought it might point out inconsistencies with ready willingness to read R-rated themes in scripture (or other books), but heaven forbid a faithful person watch an actual rated R movie (as a visual person, movies are my preferred form of entertainment, and usually my favorites movies just so happen to be rated R).
This kind of understanding of scripture has really brought me peace the last few years, and is one of the reasons I have not left the church because of the cognitive dissonance that was driving my crazy with strict literal/historical interpretation.
I like all your approaches, April. As I teach Gospel Doctrine this year I find myself especially using #1. I think viewing the ancient Israelites as really, really needing redemption makes the New Testament even more meaningful. Of course everyone who has ever lived really needs redemption, but seeing the Old Testament with that lens really takes away the need to justify any immoral behavior as “obedient,” I think.