Christ and the inner life
Madsen, Truman G. 1978. Christ and the inner life. 2nd ed. Bookcraft.
Rating:
1
Summary:
Nothing particularly remarkable.
The book is a collection of talks, essays, and historical fiction (the last chapter, a fictional account of Christ visiting the Americas) narratives by the author, compiled in book format. The subject is consistent – Christ.
Review:
Understand, from the beginning, that I no longer believe in Christ and am a former Mormon. However, I try not to rate books on whether or not I agree with them but whether I think they are well written (this isn’t always the case, but I try to be kind of objective in this sense).
As books go, this one doesn’t really stand out as being good or bad. It has some good points and it has some bad points and in the end they kind of balance out for a fairly mediocre book.
Madsen, supposedly a trained philosopher (I really would like to know where he got his degree), continually attacks psychology, sociology, and anthropology (see for example pp. 15 & 44). In the first attack he presents psychology as being inherently oppositional to religion, “At least I’m not psychological.” In the second he attacks the three combined, “It is not uncommon in a standard course having to do with environment, whether it is psychology, sociology, or anthropology, to say that all you have when you talk about conscience is the residue of your early experience – some no-noes and yes-yeses – but conscience is not reliable, goes the argument. Everybody has claimed the conscience to do something that you would consider an atrocity and then not to do other things that you would consider right, so that it is very, very relative.” I think he underestimates the argument of ‘relativity of conscience’, but what’s more, he does a very poor job of refuting it. If cannibals can eat their enemies and not spend the rest of their lives in penance, or if Nephi can cut off the head of a man that is not threatening him, Laban, for scriptures and live with a clean conscience, it is relative – and the second is straight from the Book of Mormon. If he is going to attack the sciences, he should at least do a good job of it. Instead, he argues that if he can think back to when you were young, the first time you sinned it was a really big, emotional deal. Sure, because everyone around you made sure it was. In essence, what it seems like Madsen wants to argue is that if god tells you to do something, then it’s okay (like massacre children and women during the Crusades, or destroy the Twin Towers of 9/11 if you are a Fundamentalist Muslim), but if it goes against god’s teachings (assumedly from a Mormon’s perspective) then it is wrong. Pretty relative argument to refute a relative argument – myopia, my friend, myopia.
Throughout, Madsen tries to reiterate the idea of Christ’s perfection. This is one of the big problems I have with a belief in Christ. If Christ was perfect, does that mean he never teased a sibling? Or does it just mean that he did it perfectly? Of course, the counter argument, and this is the one that Madsen uses throughout, is that Christ slowly learned who he was and once he was aware of his divinity, he no longer sinned (pp. 6-7). If this is the case, then at what point did this happen and can Christ really be considered perfect? When did Josh cease to be a Jewish carpenter’s son and become ‘The Son of god? How? Why? In my opinion, the whole concept of Christ’s perfection is either unknowable or flawed beyond repair.
Following this argument is the idea that Madsen pushes that Christ, keep in mind that he is supposed to be perfect, has ‘descended’ (this is used to describe his descent into the depths of misery and despair) below everyone else (p. 22). Well, if you take this idea to its logical extreme, what you find is a very different picture than the one Madsen – and many others – try to paint of Christ. If Christ descended below everyone, this means that he would have had to thought every thought and done everything that can be considered morally reprehensible in order to understand them. If Christ was perfect, then how do you reconcile these two? Christ must have murdered, adultered, and denied his divinity. And, what’s more, he thought all of these things because he was ‘tempted in all things’. What makes this an even stranger and more illogical argument is that Madsen also claims that no one has descended below Christ and none are so wretched – in terms of sin and wickedness – that they are outside the mercy of Christ’s intelligence (p. 22). If this is true, then Christ is the most wicked of all and there will be no ‘sons of perdition’ as is commonly thought in Mormonism – all will have the option of repentance. Madsen’s eventual distinction between thoughts that are sins and those that are not is just plain ridiculous (p. 54). He claims that the non-sins are the ones we just think, but the ones that are sins are ‘lodged in the heart’. He even goes so far as to re-write scripture to push this interpretation (p. 56). Ridiculous!
Madsen spends quite a bit of time discussing prayer (pp. 25, 34). As is often the case with religious leaders, the presentation is designed to make you want to improve, but the presentation here is, in my limited experience, beyond the ability and goals of most acolytes. Madsen is setting people up for failure. According to Madsen, the only time you truly are praying is when you are sure someone is actually answering you. In ‘psychological’ terms – when you are deluded enough to hear voices; neuroticism. Nifty! He also pushes a circular argument – the only way to know god is to pray but the only reason that we know this works is because god told us to do it in his scriptures. This reminds me of something my mother used to say, “If you don’t believe me, just ask me.” Well, he’ll have to do better than that to convince me.
Madsen, like so many other Mormon writers and leaders, talks about the great ‘mysteries of knowledge’ that the Mormon temple ceremony holds. There are two ways to interpret these ‘mysteries’. First, if even the Mormon prophet doesn’t understand the ceremonies then they are not really knowable; or better stated, they are probably meaningless (I like this interpretation best). Second, since they were taken from the Masons or the occult (depending upon which historian you agree with), you’ll actually get a better understanding of what the ceremony means by studying it from one of those two perspectives than from just attending the temple as a believing Mormon.
There were two redeeming points in the book. The first is a point made, not by Madsen, but by Matthew Cowley that Madsen paraphrases (p. 47). Essentially he says that Cowley made it a point to never lose a friend over religion or politics. I certainly know a number of Mormons that would do well to take that advice – some I know very personally.
The second redeeming point is the collection of questions that Madsen poses to the individual to determine if he is a true believer. He says that he actually asked these questions of a fellow philosopher (below referred to as ‘The Skeptic’) who answered ‘no’ to almost all of them. I absolutely loved these questions because it would pretty much ruin any religion if these were the requirements for membership:
1. Prayer
Q. Have you ever prayed and been lifted beyond yourself, both in the manner and the content of your expression, so that it became more than a dialogue with yourself?
A. The Skeptic’s response, “No.” My response, “No.”
2. The Sacrament
Q. Have you ever had the experience that Elder Melvin J. Ballard describes, ‘feeling the wounds on your soul,’ being soothed, being filled with the Spirit that warms, and thus being quickened in a hunger and a thirst to return to the sacrament table, where you find healing? Has it been as if you were taking hold of a couple of electrodes and were subject to a current?
A. The Skeptic’s response, “No, I have always found sacrament meetings quite boring.” My response, “Me too!”
3. A Patriarchal Blessing
Q. Have you ever had what President McKay would call the ‘thin veil’ experience, when, say a patriarch makes promises to you, declaring your heritage and something of the promise of your destiny?
A. The Skeptic’s response, “Well, yes, I do acknowledge I felt something, but I have since concluded that it was just my own wishful thinking.” My response, “Me too!”
4. The Scriptures
Q. Have you had the experience of having the scriptures leap up off the page and bomb you, hit you between the eyes and know that these phrases were written under inspiration, and you see clearly how they apply to you? (paraphrased)
A. The Skeptic’s response, not given. My response, “I’ve found some profound things in the scriptures, but much more profound things in novels.”
5. Ordination
Q. Have you ever in receiving the priesthood, or an office within it, or a calling to serve, felt an essence of power or liquid fire?
A. The Skeptic’s response, “No.” My response, “No. But I always thought that would be cool.”
6. An Instrument
Q. Have you ever been involved at the other end, being the instrument for setting apart, or ordaining, or confirming and felt that experience?
A. The Skeptic’s response, “No I have stood in a circle or two but I would say it was a sort of mumbo-jumbo of remembered phrases.” My response, “Me too! I was always so nervous that I couldn’t really think straight – mumbo jumbo, mumbo jumbo.”
7. Testimony
Q. Have you ever stood up, not simply to express gratitude but because there was an almost compulsive lift to stand and bear your testimony?
A. The Skeptic’s response, “No, I have occasionally ‘borne my testimony’ but I did not have one really. I was just using the words.” My response, “Me too! Except after my mission I never really stood up to bear my testimony because I knew I didn’t have one.”
8. Beyond his Natural Ability
Q. Have you ever spoken beyond your ability?
A. The Skeptic’s response, not given. My response, “No. I’m a pretty eloquent speaker at times, so I wouldn’t know. Of course, religious people would consider that a gift from god. I think I’m lucky.”
9. Spiritual Gifts
Q. Have you ever had such a gift?
A. The Skeptic’s response, “No, I do not believe in these mystical gifts.” My response, “Me too!”
10. Pure Intelligence
Q. Have you ever known what was about to occur or had a sense of intelligence flowing into you?
A. The Skeptic’s response, “No.” My response, “No, but I like learning new things. Does that count?”
11. Music
Q. Have you ever sung a hymn, or is there a single piece of music that speaks to your soul?
A. The Skeptic’s response, “No.” My response, “I like music and I have had some pretty emotional experiences with it; but spiritual, nah.”
12. Conscience
Q. Have you ever felt like something you did was wrong? (what a lousy question)
A. The Skeptic’s response, ‘said that he thought ‘conscience’ was a wholly ambiguous concept and that we would do well to eliminate it from our vocabulary.’ My response, “100 points for the skeptic. What a response! Do just like Christ did with the lawyers and scribes and don’t answer the question directly. I agree wholeheartedly.”
13. The Temple
Q. Have you felt the temple to be a remarkably uplifting spiritual experience? (paraphrasing)
A. The Skeptic’s response, ‘he thought it was creepy and weird.’ My response, “I worked hard to try to enjoy it, but most of the work went into trying not to fall asleep. It was, however, kind of serene and always pretty – though very repetitive and boring.”
14. Love
Q. Do you love others? (another lousy question)
A. The Skeptic’s response, ‘he found little joy in his Church associates – in only one or two.’ My response, “What does this have to do with religion? Find a better question.”
15. 3 Nephi 17
Q. Do you respond at all unusually when you read 3 Nephi 17? (Madsen thinks this is the greatest piece of scripture ever – apparently not everyone agrees)
A. The Skeptic’s response, ‘he did not see the point of all this talk about Christ, and as a matter of fact, he doubted most of the theological utterances that we made about him. My response, “Me too!”
That’s all of the questions; aren’t they great. Know anyone you want to ask them to? I do.
I thought Madsen’s discussion of testimony (p. 50) was interesting as well. If you don’t have one it’s your fault, because it’s there for the taking. But if you do have one it’s a gift from god. Seems kind of like a ‘no-win’ situation. I think you should reverse the logic. If you don’t have one it’s because Satan is actually working actively against you and if you do it’s because you earned it. I think that would be a good way to look at it. Or perhaps from the sociological perspective you would take all will of the individual out of it – if you don’t, it Satan’s fault (powers bigger than the individual); if you do, it’s god’s fault (powers even bigger than the other ones).
Madsen also talks repeatedly about the ‘all-seeing eye’ that is so prevalent in temples (p. 54). Now, I’ve been to the Salt Lake Temple and I don’t remember seeing it, but I’m assuming that it is there somewhere. What makes this so interesting is that there is absolutely no discussion of the ‘all-seeing eye’ in Mormonism today. I’m guessing this is because there are so many allegations that Mormonism has already ripped off so many other things from Freemasonry that for them to continue to use one of the Freemasons symbols might just be too much. Some historian should definitely look into this.
Though it was one of the first things that Madsen talks about – and it comes from his parable of the foxes that ends with the quasi-famous quip, “There are no atheists in foxholes” – was the idea that those that don’t believe in god have just as much of a burden of proof as those that do. His parable is absolutely ridiculous in this sense. The non-believing fox doesn’t see evidence for belief. Madsen wants to argue that ‘belief’ is just as tangible as seeing and as long as the non-believing fox can’t disprove their belief that he has no ground to stand on. Well, I think modern (call it positivistic) science would disagree with this; and so too would logic. The burden of proof is on the person that is making the claim (holds in court too). If I told you that I knew a purple man with sixteen arms that was 42 feet tall, you would want me to show you proof. Me telling you that I felt he existed in my heart wouldn’t do. And I wouldn’t have to make you prove that he doesn’t exist by searching every nook and cranny in all of the universe looking for him. I’m making the claim, I have the burden of proof. It’s sounds like a nice parable, but the logic is flawed.
This review is getting to be almost as long as the book. I guess, in short, the book doesn’t really stand out because it has so much going against it but does offer a couple of interesting points that kind of, sort of, redeem it. Because it’s out of print, you probably can’t find it too readily (though I did see some copies for sale on Amazon.com). Anyway, I’m not sure that it is really worth your time. If you are a firm believer, your time would be better spent reading something by C.S. Lewis, who is a better writer, and seems to have a better grounding in logic at least.