Source: https://alma32.wordpress.com/2008/07/14/alma-32-26%E2%80%9329/
Timestamp: 2019-04-23 04:02:55+00:00

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I hope the discussion Adam initiated last week concerning the relationships between the key terms of this chapter will continue, as I found it very useful last week. In that vein, I have tried to focus the majority my thoughts around exploring specific phrases and words.
Alma begins “Now, as I said concerning faith—that it was not a perfect knowledge—even so it is with my words.” We should note the introduction of his “words” to the concept of “word/s” in the discourse. After the preceding verses in which God’s desire (that we believe on his word) and God’s method (he imparts his words via angels), I find it significant that Alma’s practical application of these principles is to instruct the multitude how to come to believe in his own words. This specific identification promotes the idea of substitutability as a quality of the word: Alma’s words may be his own, but in sharing them he acts as a messenger from God and his words simultaneously serve as God’s word so that God’s desire may be realized.
The second half of the verse—“Ye cannot know of their surety at first, unto perfection, any more than faith is a perfect knowledge”—implies through the phrase “at first” that this lack of knowledge is temporary. If the multitude will at some future point be able to know of the surety of Alma’s words perfectly, does the same conclusion follow the comparison to faith and perfect knowledge? Is our lack of perfect knowledge temporary?
Additionally, I find the phrase “know of a surety” here very interesting. Joe’s cross-references were very helpful here and I would highly suggest looking through them. Reading through them, the phrase appears to be used to express testimony related to God’s covenants, angels, power, miracles, etc.—in other words, God’s acts and interactions with men. The contexts often implied a ritual use of these words, which is also worth thinking about. What is it that makes knowledge sure? That secures knowledge? Or, reading the phrase in its entire context, what is it that secures words themselves?
This verse begins by setting up a condition: if those receiving Alma’s words will awake and arise (a possible reference to ritual actions, following v.26?), which is equivalent to experimenting upon his words, which experiment can begin with as little as a desire to believe and involve letting that desire work, then they will reach a point where they will be able to believe “enough” to give place to a portion of Alma’s words.
This conditionality is important because it casts the remainder of Alma’s discourse in terms of individual choice. Although Alma has talked about conditionality and choice before (for example, the “sometimes” in v.13), this is the first time where such a conditional choice is put by Alma directly to the multitude themselves (“if ye will awake …”). Alma has recently reiterated his understanding of the multitude’s desire as desire to know what they should do (v.24), and his response here is the first specific action which they can choose to do. Of course, the implications of this choice to act inevitably admit one’s own insufficiency (as Adam has often pointed out) and hence the prior necessity of humility.
Regarding several terms used in the verse, I would like to call our attention to our third Key Question (what is meant by the use of the term “experiment” in Alma 32:27) and suggest that we discuss this together, in part because my own thoughts on the subject are far from coherent at this point.
I do think it’s worth pointing out the phrase “exercise particle of faith” in that this description of faith seems markedly different from earlier descriptions—faith here is conceived as something tangible, particular, and constituted. It is able to be “exercised” by individuals, which connotes a concept of faith as utilized, held, wielded, practiced, etc.
To help us think through the role of desire in this verse, let me observe that this is the third appearance of desire linked with words in Alma’s discourse. In v.22 we are told that God desires that we should believe on his word. Vv.26–27 express Alma’s desire that those listening to him should believe his words. And v.27 also articulates the possibility for the (humbled) subject’s desire to believe Alma’s words. The multitude’s desire has been repeatedly identified as desire for knowledge concerning a course of action (vv.5, 9, 24). This “worldly” desire contrasts with the “heavenly” desire of God, his messenger, and his humbled subject: they each desire the same thing, namely, “belief in his words.” The interpretation and significance of that phrase shifts according to who is desiring, but the overall result is the same—that the unbeliever may believe on the word/s.
Alma also tells the humbled subject what to do with his/her desire: “let this desire work in you.” Is it significant that desire here is active, and apparently active on its own merit (merely be being desire)? How does desire “work” in someone? What work is accomplished? Does the result—believing “in a manner that ye can give place for a portion of my words”—describe the work in some way? The act of giving place implies a removal of one’s self, an allowing that might be recognized as humility enacted. Again, humility is both a necessary and negating action (in the sense the self removes its illusion of self-sufficiency).
**My apologies for the tardy and partial post—I will have the remainder up later today** It’s up now. Thanks for your patience.
“Now, we will compare the word unto a seed”: how do we understand “word” here? Why the shift from “my words” in v.27 to “the word” here? Alma’s previous discourse has seemed at times somewhat disjointed—perhaps tangential or deferring is a better description. Alma has been unable to sustain a direct answer to the question of “what shall we do?” That changes, however, with the introduction of this comparison, which will sustain the remainder of the chapter. Perhaps there is something inherent in the structure of metaphor or parable that allows for a sustained approach?
Note that the word/seed will remain as long as the humbled subject remains humbled—God will not remove the word/seed, but the humbled subject take actions that will cast it out: unbelief (which seems it should be as complex a concept as belief/faith, and would be interesting to explore) and resisting the Spirit of the Lord (which I see as echoing v.16 “stubbornness of heart”).
If the opposite choice is made—belief and accepting the Spirit of the Lord—the result is the swelling of the word/seed. While much of Alma’s discourse centers on faith, it appears that the power of faith simultaneously implies a relationship with the Spirit of the Lord (who is this?), a spirit which appears to aid the swelling of the word/seed.
Regarding the word/seed “begin[ing] to swell within your breasts” and the “swelling motions” felt, I find it interesting that Alma specifically does not begin with the sprouting and growth of the word/seed. Instead, he follows the biology of seed growth rather explicitly: before they sprout, seeds absorb water and swell, which activates their capacity for growth. But this growth will not occur until v.30; growth apparently can’t actually begin until after the subject, in response to the swollen word/seed, begins to recognize the word/seed as good.
yea, it beginneth to be delicious to me.
If the consequences for giving place to the word/seed and not casting it out are unconditional, it follows that the subject will be acted upon by the word/seed and hence must be previously prepared to receive those actions. Again, Alma’s prior emphasis on humility as necessary comes into play in that only the humbled subject may be acted upon by the word/seed—any pride of self-preservation casts out the word/seed and voids the process.
Alma’s analysis appears straightforward—“Now behold, would not this increase your faith?”—and yet I’m not sure it’s necessarily that clear. How does a recognition of the word/seed as good increase faith? Does the verb here indicate that faith is a quantifiable, measurable, object? Is faith only quantifiable when it is examined in its particularity, either particularity of situation or particularity of relation (i.e., a specific person’s faith in a specific thing)?
The second sentence—“nevertheless, it hath not grown up to a perfect knowledge” again returns us to the questions in v.26 regarding our apparently temporary lack (and therefore ultimate gain) of perfect knowledge. Although we would expect the phrase “grown up” to apply to the word/seed given v.28, Alma actually applies it to faith itself. Does this then create a third layer to the concept of the word/seed, so that it’s actually the word/seed/faith? If so, does the end result of matured faith being perfect knowledge imply a parallel between perfect knowledge and the ultimate result of the word/seed (i.e., the tree with its pure fruit)?
Working through these verses this week I spent a fair amount of time thinking through the relationship between faith and knowledge. I’m wondering if it might be useful to think of it in terms of process. Is there something essential saving about having faith before knowledge—about the process of receiving the word, giving it place, recognizing it as good—as opposed to simply starting with the knowledge in the first place? Perhaps because there is something vital about faith itself? Not to jump ahead, but when perfect knowledge in a specific thing is reached (v.34), notice that faith does not cease to exist, but is simply dormant. Faith may not be active, but its power and strength are still there. The end point is the same—perfect knowledge—but the difference is whether one reaches that point with faith intact.
As usual, great stuff, Jenny. I have a few things to add, but there’s little to disagree with in your analysis. But (of course) I wouldn’t be a philosopher if I couldn’t find something to disagree with.
Verse 26: It is odd that Alma introduces this sermon with a disclaimer: just as you cannot have a perfect knowledge of the things of God at first, you also cannot, from the beginning, have a perfect understanding of what I say. Faith is not perfect knowledge, and you cannot understand perfectly what I say about faith (at least not at first).
Verse 27: The verse begins with the contrastive “but,” making explicit that the conditional which follows is the alternative to not having perfect knowledge.
Almost all of the Webster’s 1828 definitions of “exercise” circle around the words “use” and “practice.” I wonder, however, whether “particle” had for early nineteenth-century the materialistic meaning which it has for us. Webster’s definitions have more to do with minuteness than they do with physicality, though the latter is not absent. My suspicion is that we associate “particle” closely with materiality because of developments in mid- to late-nineteenth century and twentieth-century physics. If so, then that may cloud our reading of the verse.
In terms of the metaphor that Alma is explicating, it seems that “delicious” comes too early. If there is, as yet, no fruit, what does it mean to say that the seed begins to be delicious?
Whaat do we make of the fact that Alma switches from the second person—you allow the seed to be planted; it will swell in your breasts—to the first: “it beginneth to enlarge my soul [. . .] to enlighten my understanding [. . .] to be delicious to me.” This is especially interesting in light of the fact that he switches back to second person in verse 29.
Jim, I think you raise some important points—please disagree rather regularly because I definitely need to think through these things further! Regarding the switch from second person to first person in v.28, I wonder if it’s helpful to also recognize that the beginning of the verse contains the chapter’s only first person plural: “Now, we will compare.” And that that 1st p. pl. follows a progression from “I” in v.26 to “Ye” in v.27. It seems like Alma is possibly trying to demonstrate his similarity/solidarity/brotherhood with his audience, and perhaps the switch back and forth between first and second person in the latter half of the verse reflects that possibility?
Re: “If there is, as yet, no fruit, what does it mean to say that the seed begins to be delicious?” That’s really interesting. I hadn’t thought about it before, but I wonder if we might think about taste as a type or symbol of knowledge. In other words, the seed begins to be delicious precisely because it begins to be known? Because in being tasted, it is discernible?
I think your critique of “particle” is correct. In fact, my notes have the phrase “talk to Nick about light and wave/particle identity” (he’s a physicist) scribbled down next to the word “particular.” Which would seem to indicate a reading affected by latter understanding of physics. :) That said, I think there’s enough evidence in Webster’s 1828 to support reading “particle” in terms of minuteness as you suggest, but where the minute is still matter or part of a greater whole.
Also, as a side note, it’s interesting to read “particle of faith” in light of the “portion of my words” which ends the verse in that each seem to indicate that what one starts with in the experiment is not something complete, but something partial.
Finally, regarding giving place, I see the choice not to act itself (not to cast out the word/seed) as more of an individual choice or act than you do. I’m seeing it as an act simply because it seems like Alma has repeatedly emphasized the conditional nature of this decision—which I read as implying that many, perhaps the majority, choose to act by hardening their hearts against the word. In other words, that the natural choice, the easy choice, the choice that many make, is one of action. If that is the case, then it seems like there would be some type of conscious effort required to remain open to the word through humble passivity—an effort directed at not acting. Perhaps.
Regarding the theme of “place,” I’ve been more and more struck by its prevalence here. Perhaps this is primarily because I’ve spent a good part of the last week studying Mallarme’s Un coup de des in detail (and I’ll be at it for another few weeks), with its concluding “Nothing will have taken place but the place . . . except, perhaps, a constellation.” Subjectivity and the giving of place . . . .
Regarding the first/second person shifts: am I misunderstanding, or is it as simple as each shift is introduced by a “ye will begin to say within yourselves” (v. 28) or a “then you must needs say that” (v. 30)?
Now, to get back to Jenny’s actual post!
I’m especially enjoying two aspects of your comments this week, Jenny: all the questions you are raising about subjectivity in this experience, and your ruminations about what verses 26-29 on the whole imply about the relationship between faith and knowledge. Let me make a few comments about the second theme and then let that guide me back to a few comments about the first.
I think the problematic reading of the relationship, which is perhaps the most common reading as well, is to see faith and knowledge as being on a continuum (on a “divided line”): faith is just imperfect knowledge, knowledge is just perfected faith. It is perhaps the word “perfect” as always attached to “knowledge” in these verses that leads us in that direction, but I’ve begun, I think, to strike on another way of reading that couple. In fact, the more I’ve been looking at verses 21-29 all together, the more I’ve begun to wonder whether “perfect” in “perfect knowledge” is less a marker of the completeness of the knowledge to which it attaches than a marker of the kind of knowledge to which it attaches. That is, “perfect knowledge” might be understood to be “scientific knowledge” or “empirical knowledge,” the kind of “knowledge” that is whole in and of itself.
If this is a move in the right direction, then verse 21 might be understood to be Alma’s clarification that faith must not be understood to be (1) scientific knowledge itself, nor (2) a kind of parallel, “spiritual” knowledge. But if verse 21 marks a complete division between the categories of faith and knowledge, verse 26 comes back (“Now, as I said concerning faith…”) to point out that faith and knowledge are not for that reason completely unrelated: the “at first” of verse 26 shows that faith somehow leads to (perfect) knowledge.
What I see happening, in other words, is this: faith and knowledge must not be taken to fall under the same kind of category (verse 21), but they nonetheless have a very specific relationship to each other (verse 26). (This two-point argument is, quite nicely, hung on the introduction of the event and the split of the one into two of verse 23.) Alma’s words call for a thinking of the non-continuous relationship between faith and knowledge.
This clarification, I think, avoids two common but dangerous readings of Alma 32. On the one hand, these verses are often read as suggesting that faith is just imperfect scientific knowledge, something Talmage left to us in the missionary library. But Alma seems pretty distinctly in verse 21 to dispel the “continuum theory.” On the other hand, these verses are sometimes read as suggesting that faith and knowledge are completely different but essentially parallel things, that faith is spiritual knowledge, and that knowledge is visual/scientific faith. But this, I think, is dismissed in verse 26 when Alma suggests that faith is at the root of any development of perfect knowledge.
But if the two “easy” readings of the text are thus dismissed, we’ve got difficult work to do: what is the relationship between faith and knowledge? And I think most of your comments this week are hitting on the answer: the relationship between them is entirely a question of the subject. Inasmuch as faith is subjective (indeed, so subjective that it calls for the Book of Mormon’s only affirmation of sexual difference!), it differs entirely from scientific knowledge, which is overtly objective. But, as Alma goes on to explain the experiment at such length, it is only through subjective fidelity to an event/advent of the word that knowledge can get anywhere. Without the intervention of a faithful subject, knowledge would remain within certain dialectical limits, looping on a circuit out of which it cannot break (as objective). Inasmuch as knowledge is objective, and inasmuch as truth is universal and unconditional, then knowledge of the truth has got to be worked out by the intervention of faithful subjects who have experienced/experimented on the evental word, the truth of which is never on display (things which are not seen, but which are true), but which must be faithfully proclaimed or preached.
The angelic event/encounter results in the emergence of a subject whose entire subjectivity is grounded in fidelity to that event and the word introduced there, and that subject then forces knowledge to change by offering a translation/typologization of what is already written up in the encyclopedias or books of knowledge, etc.
Hence, as you point out, faith never disappears, but only goes to sleep, and then only in that thing: fidelity will be as infinite as thought.
Indeed, infinite: inasmuch as the word here will turn out to be the Word, there will always remain something unnameable that makes thought (the interplay of faith and knowledge and so the work of the subject) infinite.
on July 15, 2008 at 5:03 pm | Reply Robert C.
1. I think the active/passive discussion between Jenny and Jim is very interesting, and can be productively thought in light of Joe’s without thoughts (e.g., something like: Faith is something hard to describe and rather counterintutive—it is mostly passive, but requires a kind of active passivity, “effort without effort” as Derrida or Caputo might put it. So, rather than simply explain what you need to do, let me first challenge your presuppositions as to what you think you cannot do, and challenge what you might think faith is, before explaining to you in positive, metaphorical terms, what faith is…). I also think Alma’s negative theological method is a good way to think through the faith-works issues since they are typically thought merely in an either/or dialectic which Alma seems to be wanting to move beyond (either I save myself by my works, or God saves me without any involvement or effort on my part).
Regarding Alma’s “negative theological method”: He starts off with those negative rhetorical questions in vv. 9-11 (“cannot worship,” “only once a week”) and then declares an emphatic “nay” in v. 18 that sign-seeking is not faith, and then defines faith in negative terms (not perfect knowledge, and hope for things not seen), and then echoes this in v. 26. Also, the yea/nay pattern in the chapter(s) is still nagging at me—something important is surely going on here. There are 7 yeah‘s in this chapter (vv. 1, 3, 5, 15, 15, 16, 17) followed by a nay in verse 18, then 10 more yeah‘s (vv. 22, 23, 27, 28, 28, 29, 30, 31, 34, 35) followed by a nay in verse 36. The seven and ten pattern of yeah‘s punctuated by nay‘s strikes me as likely more than just coincidence (there are, however, 2 “perplexing” yeah’s following the nay in verse 36 in this chapter that I’m not sure what to make of; also, I briefly did some counting in surrounding chapters and nothing strikes me as significant: 19 yeah’s in ch. 30, 9 yeah’s in ch. 31, 7 yeah’s in ch. 33—which could be taken as significant since this chapter break does seem to make at least some sense…). Much more could and should on Alma’s negative methodology (and surely has—I remember Joe posted quite a bit on this topic at the wiki, regarding v. 16 if I remember, that is well worth reading), esp. as it pertains to the way I think he employs it to move beyond easily-fallen-into, dichotomous ways of thinking.
2. Regarding Jim’s “delicious” question, I think that the phrasing of the description is important: “enlarges the soul” in verse 28 seems much more than a neutral description. I’m not sure what to make of this, but I think it’s important that the growth itself is delicious/desirable, not just the fruit. I think this description should also be compared (structurally as well as thematically) to the enlightened understanding and expanding mind described in verse 34.
Also, I think this is an interesting and important issue to think about because in other scriptural tree-fruit metaphors, there is a difference between sweet and bitter fruit, and Alma is clearly taking this in a significantly different direction (the bitterness seems to be displaced by the question of whether the seed grows and enlarges the soul).
3. Amen to Joe’s distinguishing between faith and knowledge as working in different realms—and amen to Jenny’s comment about faith increasing, not just the seed growing (a pet peeve of mine is when someone triumphantly corrects the common misreading that the seed is the word, not faith—but then fails to appreciate this more subtle similarity between faith and the word that Jenny has noted here…).
I’ve wondered about these issues (how faith and knowledge relate and in what sense they “grow”) especially in light of the “line upon line” teaching in Isaiah that shows up in 2 Ne 28:30 and D&C 128:21. Avraham Gileadi has an interesting reading of this (in his introductory chapter to his translation of Isaiah) where he contrasts a linear, incremental, secular way of learning with the sudden, instantaneous, revelatory way that wisdom is (often) described as coming. I’m not sure I buy his argument, but I think he raises an important question, and I esp. like that he’s calling into question the economic way that we think about learning, that it comes systematically and in direct proportion to our effort, or something.
This is another way, I think, to get at the passive aspect of “gaining knowledge” without ignoring the sense in which we have a role in this taking place—something that the seed analogy does so well (scare quotes on “gaining knowledge” b/c I think it’s very interesting that the seed grows and faith increases, but knowledge is never explicitly said to increase in this chapter—and, in fact, I think it’s somewhat conspicuous that unconditional perfect knowledge is never actually described as being attained in this chapter; rather, it is only alluded to metaphorically via the fruit…). I think the natural analogy of the seed is apt in this sense b/c it disrupts any economic way of thinking—growth is not technological, but subject to the whims of nature’s grace.
4. Regarding the swelling vs. sprouting, I don’t want to detract from Jenny’s insight which I’d never considered before (that seeds swell before sprouting), but I’ve just realized that I think I’ve been radically misreading verses 30-36ish previously. I’ve thought that the swelling comes first, and this isn’t considered perfect knowledge (even “in that thing”), but that the perfect knowledge “in that thing” comes later after the seed not merely swells, but also sprouts (I’ve mentioned this before in terms of an implicit public-private distinction going on here).
But now I think it makes more sense to read verses 30-36ish as a restatement of what’s going on in verse 28, and that the addition of the sprouting to the swelling is an elaboration rather than a continuation of what’s described in v. 28. I’m still trying to make sense of this new way of reading this, but at the least I think it points toward against making too strong of a distinction between the swelling and sprouting (not to deny that their order is important and indeed follows the biological sequence…).
5. Thanks, Jenny, for pointing to the “awake and arouse” phrasing. These are such important terms elsewhere (well, “awake” and “arise” at least), esp. in the small plates (2 Nephi 1:13-14, 23 and Jacob 3:11, which also uses the rare “arouse,” particularly come to mind) that I think this deserves much more attention. Interestingly, Alma does not seem to use this terminology elsewhere in his sermons.
The richness of these terms sets in motion another slew of reckless, mostly intertextual thoughts for me. For now I’ll only say that I think the seed metaphor seems an esp. apt way to think about the already-but-not-yet “tension” in Paul, and all of the eschatological and rebirth issues directly and tangentially related to that (esp. as “parallely” addressed in the small plates…).
“Minute” definitely means “in comparison to a greater whole,” but I’m still not fond of the interpretation of minute in terms of material. The connection of “particle of faith” and “portion of my words” is important given Alma’s parallel between faith and his words in verse 26.
Jenny’s point about “delicious” is excellent: I can already taste—foretaste—the fruit as the seed swells in me. Which reminds me that her insight about the swelling seed is, as Robert points out, also brilliant.
I think that Joe is right: I was simply not reading well when I made something of the move from second to first person.
I think that Joe’s use of the terms “scientific knowledge” and “empirical knowledge” is anachronistic, so his discussion of subjective and objective knowledge is also. I think that way of speaking uses assumptions about faith and knowledge that we often use when we think about these verses, the assumptions of scientific discourse—whether we think, as many do, that “perfect knowledge” is either the same as or like scientific knowledge or whether we disagree with that way of seeing things.
Yda, the divine knowledge of which Adam and Eve partook when they ate the fruit of the Tree of Knowledge, is sexual knowledge, moral knowledge, intellectual knowledge, social knowledge, and other forms of knowledge, but in each case it refers to knowledge that is part and parcel of some intimate relation. When God brings a lawsuit against Israel for breaking its covenant in Hoseah 4:1, he says that Israel has no faithfulness (emt) or loyalty (hsd) to God and no knowledge (yda) of him. Wouldn’t perfect knowledge be the completion—the adequation—of the knowledge of God? In other words, wouldn’t it be the completion of an intimate relation to him?
By the way, the word for perfect in the OT, tmm meant, originally, “complete,” but is used mostly in the OT for ethical relations: the perfect heart (e.g., Psalms 78:72). Also the right decision (e.g., Judges 9:16, where it is translated “sincerely”). I assume that something like this is still the meaning for Alma.
So, perhaps a continuum (which need not be a Platonic divided line) is the right way to think about faith and knowledge after all: faith is hope for the fulfillment of loving relation to God. Such hope can grow, gradually (i.e., along a continuum), until it comes to fulness.
On this reading, which is more in line with what I think most readers have understood (but which is not, because of that, more likely—after all, Joe is right that most readers make the mistake of thinking this is a text about how to gain something like scientific knowledge), verse 21 tells us that to have faith is not yet to be related to God intimately, but it is to hope for that relation.
However, contra Joe (my apologies that I seem to be on an anti-Joe kick recently—it isn’t personal; perhaps it is a repressed anti-Badiou kick), if knowledge of God is intimacy—love—then it is not entirely a question of the subject. It occurs between subjects. (In an anti-symmetrical relation, as Badiou points out.) Indeed, in love my subjectivity is called into question and sometimes (often?) disappears.
When verse 34 speaks of our faith being dormant “in that thing,” isn’t the “that thing” the word? I think that the common interpretation, which takes the experiment to be on each question I might have about the gospel, is wrong. The experiment is an experiment on only one thing: the question has been, “Is the word good?” and the answer is, finally, “Yes,” so faith that it is good becomes dormant when the seed matures into a tree. If we compare it to a seed now, then we have to compare it to one that is not swelling. Why? Because the seed of faith that we planted grew into a tree that bore the fruit of life, into the Tree if Life.
I find it interesting that Alma portrays us as being asleep. To awaken is to awaken to a call: Awake! But he says “arouse your faculties” rather than “arise,” Which would be merely a repetition of “awake,” a hendiadys. Rather, once we are awakened, he commands us to do something, namely to arouse our faculties, to stir our powers of action into performing. Aristotelian theories of perception assumed that perception was something like wakefulness or opening one’s eyes: sleep is the absence of perception, to awaken is to perceive. However, Alma doesn’t think in that way. He sees our abilities to perceive and act as something that we must goad or encourage.
on July 15, 2008 at 9:44 pm | Reply Robert C.
I’m not sure if this is what Joe meant, but I read him as trying to distinguish between knowledge obtained by faith (i.e., subjective knowledge) vs. knowledge obtained as a sign sought (i.e., objective knowledge).
Regarding the distinction (raised on the previous thread, I think) between faith and knowledge, it seems the “only believeth” in v. 19 is a good argument for thinking of belief (at least) and knowledge on some sort of continuum.
On the other hand, I do think the “faith is dormant” phrasing in v. 34 is peculiar and suggests that a simple continuum view is too simplistic. Sign-sought knowledge vs. knowledge obtained with dormant faith somewhere lurking in the background—I think at least this kind of a non-continuum conception between faith and knowledge is justified, at least in trying to think through the chapter as a whole….
Robert, I think you’d have to explain a bit more how you see my thoughts in #3 matching up with Adam’s in “Atonement and Testimony” before I can even be sure what it is you’re asking me to explain.
(1) The details—particularly theological—of the Korihor narrative are remarkably anachronistic. It seems to me that in an important sense there is a departure from Hebrew ways of thinking with the sudden emergence of Korihor’s doctrines. Which is to say that while there is likely good reason to find continuity between, say, Benjamin’s teachings and what one finds in Old Testament tradition, I wonder whether that method is quite as appropriate after Alma 30.
(2) I would hope that I’m reading forward from the text rather than backward into the text. That is, I don’t intend to take current categories and read the text through them so much as I intend to approach current categories through the text, like reading Freud through Paul’s discussions of death and the psychical man in 1 Corinthians. As Robert points out, I see the bridge between Alma 32 and current categories as being primarily rooted in the important place given to signs in the text: Korihor’s and then the Zoramites’ understanding of signs would suggest that there is good reason to draw on Alma’s teachings in order to think current categorization.
But beyond these “justifications,” I should also clarify that when I say “subject” or “subjectivity,” I do not at all have reference to anything in the Cartesian tradition, but rather to Badiou’s (in my opinion definitive) break with that tradition (that is, I see Badiou as perhaps the only significant philosopher who has broken with Cartesian subjectivity and yet still argued coherently that there is something that must be called a subject). And of course, for Badiou, the subject is only a subject due to the insuperable between of subjects that it names (“love”). To translate everything I’ve said about subjects or subjectivity into the Cartesian tradition, one would have to replace each instance with some form of the word “gifted” in the sense that Marion uses it.
Thank you, Jenny. This is good stuff.
Joe writes, “so subjective that it calls for the Book of Mormon’s only affirmation of sexual difference.” What are you thinking about here?
Robert, I love your observation about the yeas and nays.
–“Now, we will compare the word unto a seed.” This seems so explicit; so “parables for dummies” if you will. I suppose it is just a response to the spiritual immaturity (or lack of experience) of the people. But does this affect how we approach the rest of this discourse? Is it inappropriate then to look for deep meaning/structure/nuance/etc. in a speech that is meant to be milk and not meat?
–On the issue of delicious: this is the only such use in scripture. (Rev. has two “deliciously”s but in a different context, although it is presumed to come from a root meaning ” excessive strength which longs to break forth” which would be interesting in Alma’s context.) Webster’s 1828 has about what you’d expect for the first definition, but the second is “most pleasing to the mind.” I don’t think the word is used that way at all today. Are we better off thinking of (physical) foretaste or are we better off thinking that the swelling pleases the mind? “Pleasing the mind” is almost problematic itself–I would think that things that please the mind might be carnal or earthly; mind-pleasing as a metric for “good” is interesting, to say the least. On the other hand, if we go with the physical foretaste, that’s intriguing because it means that you have to have faith that the fruit will actually grow and will be delicious. We’ve come full circle. I’m reminded of how you can salivate at the mere smell or even mention of good food because of your past experiences with it; is that what Alma is analogizing here?
–I am curious about the word “faculties.” There are a few other BoM usages; no KJV biblical ones. Webster has “that power of the mind or intellect which enables it to receive, revive or modify perceptions” and I wonder how that works when Jacob tells them to “arouse the faculties of your souls” and what the idea of mind/intellect inherent in “faculty” might be able to teach us about Alma’s process of gaining faith/knowledge.
–Combining my two thoughts above: if ‘delicious’ means ‘mind pleasing’ and ‘faculty’ points to powers of the intellect, then we have two data points suggesting that Alma highly values the human mind, which is exactly what I would not have expected from a discourse on faith.
on July 16, 2008 at 12:37 pm | Reply Robert C.
Adam says, I believe, that sign-seeking is like mistaking love for the signs of love. Conflating the knowledge and faith, or even to put the two on the same continuum, then risks killing the goose of faith in a misguided attempt to obtain the golden eggs of knowledge.
It’s when I translate both what you’ve said (in the last few paragraphs in comment #3) and what Adam wrote (in his “Testimony and Atonement” article) back into the language of Alma 32 (faith, knowledge and signs) that I see you both making the same core move at stucturing the interrelationships.
One last (sloppy) attempt at re-stating/translating this “core move” that I still have only a vague sense of—trying to articulate a version of it will help me see what I’m seeing and not seeing clearly: To seek for a sign is to seek for something “static,” to misunderstand that faith is what determines what will have been true. I think the tendency is to think about this situation technologically: show me that the gadget works first, then I’ll be motivated to learn how it works. The problem is that once the signs of the gadget are shown to work, then the possibility for understanding how to make the gadget work is spoiled. Faith is what makes the gadget work (i.e., what generates the signs), and seeing these signs leaves no “space” left over for faith to be cultivated.
Julie, we’ve been discussing this question of sexual difference a bit on last week’s thread. But I’ll add this here by way of clarification: I mean that the subjectivity caused by the event, according to verse 23, is always a gendered subjectivity. I’m having fun playing around with this on the matheme: neither/nor in Latin is ne-uter, that is, neuter, such that there is no sexual difference in light of death; only life can split the one into two, and that is dependent on the angelic encounter, etc.
Thanks very much, by the way, for the Webster’s second definition of delicious! Very, very helpful.
Robert, I think you’re right: Adam and I are doing much the same thing here.
At any rate, I don’t know whether my little confession/clarification here is just a manifestation of insecurity or what, but it did seem worth saying: Badiou is helpful, but only, at least for me, after having read scripture very carefully.
Great, great, discussion this week.
I’m less inclined to think about the deployment of metaphor in the second half of the chapter in terms of a difference between “meat” (meaning: the thing itself?) and “milk” (meaning: something more initially accessible substituted for the thing itself).
It may be the case that Alma’s “poetic” elaboration of faith plays an essential (rather than accidental) relation to the subject being discussed such that faith requires a “poetic” rather than literal elaboration.
If the experience of faith is going to (as Jim has said) introduce us to a new world, then the “literal” resources of the old world won’t in themselves be sufficient. Alma, working with the language at hand, will have to poetically bend language in order to open a new experience of that world.
Also, great point about the apparent semi-autonomy of desire as something that “works in us” or as something in relation to which we have a somewhat “passive” stance.
Both the “word” and “desire” are a kind of foreign body located inside of us.
In other words, the word and desire are both “ex-timate” (external + intimate). This experience of finding something other than ourselves at the center of who we are is quintessentially religious and is, I think, central to the experience of humility.
What’s the connection to humility? What could be more humbling than finding that we are not ourselves, that the desires working in us have some autonomy from us, that in our hearts is a word that is not our own?
The “natural” reaction to such a state of affairs is to want to reclaim ourselves and get that thing out! (What’s more terrifying than that scene from Alien when the creature bursts right out of the guy’s cavity!?) This is where faith requires restraint, a kind of “giving place,” a “letting” the thing that is not me grow in me.
Apropos of Joe comments about subjectivity, I take these passages to be absolutely central to what Alma is describing here about faith. I don’t understand them to simply be a kind of rhetorically useful personification of thoughts and feelings. In what way?
What is the antecedent for the “this” that will strengthen your faith? I think the antecedent is not the swelling. The antecedent is the “saying that the seed is good.” Alma is, in fact, quite emphatic about this. You “must needs say,” otherwise nothing will have happened (even if it did happen, even if it did swell in your breast!).
In this sense, the “saying” (the “bearing testimony”) is the hinge on which the entire “experiment” turns. The desire has a kind of autonomy. The word has a kind of autonomy. The word will swell if we just passively “let” it – unless we actively cast it out.
But the absolutely essential subjective contribution required on our part is that we must say that the word has swelled. In short, we must give voice to the word that is in us, speak it, bear testimony of it, etc. even though the word (being in us) remains unseen.
My hypothesis: the connection between “faith” and the “word” is that we will have had faith when we ourselves say the word.
4. A final apology: sorry about all the italics!
Is this a description, from the inside out, of what it is like to be constituted as a (new) subject, a subject interpellated by the (new) word in such a way as to be given a (new) world in which it is once again possible to act?
What is “good”? The process of interpellating a new subject.
Further, it’s interesting that Alma earlier in v28 states: “. . . if it be a true seed, or a good seed . . .” such that we get an explicit alignment of truth and goodness.
Thus (Joe!), granted the above, we get a clear line drawn from truth to the process of interpellating a new subject by the word.
How do you know if the word is a truth? The word is a truth if it does constitute a new subject newly capable of action in relation to the old situation (of sin) because that situation has been effectively supplemented by the addition of “the word,” i.e., if it does enlarge the soul and enlighten the understanding.
Adam (#11): I may have to apologize for the hand I had in introducing Joe to philosophy, though as I remember I didn’t really have that much to do with it. Joe came to philosophy prepared to do philosophy.
As for Badiou: I don’t’ think “convert to Badiou” would describe me well yet, but “recovering Heideggerian” might. I’ve spent the last week or so reading several of Badiou’s works. I won’t belabor the point here (I may not elsewhere either until I get this paper finished), but my problem with Badiou is that I am not yet convinced that the formulae serve as anything more than a nice metaphor. We aren’t really doing math, though math in Badiou (like writing in Derrida–is there a difference?) helps us see / say more clearly things that we might otherwise have difficulty saying, such as that the Two are not reducible to the 1+1 . The other problem is that I don’t think the insights are all that novel. I think, for example, that I was talking about them in my dissertation, and even then my advisors thought they were fine, but not all that novel. Examples: the already mentioned Two does not equal 1 + 1; things are really events (that is Heidegger through and through, at least as I read him).
But enough of Badiou since this isn’t a blog about him.
This is a great way of explaining the importance of new readings of scripture, of new approaches, indeed, the necessity of scripture as figural. It is such a great way of putting the point that I am likely to steal it. The analysis that follows is also excellent.
Though I like the idea here—if true, if fits my understanding—what is the argument? Grammatically, the sprouting of the seed is the nearest possible antecedent. I see that “you must say” is also possible, but not as likely. Also, as you point out in your next comment (#12), verse 28 puts the swelling at the center, and verses 29-30 seem to continue that emphasis.
Perhaps your best argument is that using the language of the end of the verse: “for ye will say I know that this is a good seed.” However, even that is followed immediately by “for behold it sprouteth and beginneth to grow.” That seems to put the reference back on the swelling.
I like comments #12 and #13 very much. As usual, you say well what I wish I’d thought to say.
‘Though I like the idea here—if true, if fits my understanding—what is the argument? Grammatically, the sprouting of the seed is the nearest possible antecedent. I see that “you must say” is also possible, but not as likely. Also, as you point out in your next comment (#12), verse 28 puts the swelling at the center, and verses 29-30 seem to continue that emphasis.
ASM: I think you’re right to recognize that the emphasis falls on the seed’s autonomous swelling (i.e., to put the emphasis on the “grace” of the seed). However, the swelling, while necessary, is not sufficient. If there is no “saying” of this “grace,” then it will have been of no account. Without the “saying,” it will have borne no fruit.
In this sense, though the swelling does all the work, the “saying” remains sine qua non.
The swelling/sprouting/grace of the word is the motive force, but faith will not be strengthened if I do not say that this is so.
I believe that this work of “saying” may also be understood as that aperture through which the relation between faith and knowledge passes. The “saying” articulates the gap between the seen and the unseen, faith and hope, signs and the “perfection” of knowledge.
A final note: might we read the “perfection” of knowledge as the coming-to-be of a something not hitherto extant? That is to say, the temptation is to read the “perfection” of knowledge as the now perfectly adequate correspondence of our understanding with the way things are and already were (though unseen). What if (as I suggested earlier), the “unseen” doesn’t refer to what is in the present tense (but hidden); but rather, to what subjunctively “could be” if we bring about that state of affairs?
This is all a long way of arguing that: perhaps the “saying” that “must needs be” should be understood as integrally constitutive of, as productive of, the perfection of knowledge rather than as an accurate report about something that is already the case.
We need not say that the “saying” is central (we can assign this place to the swelling word), but we nonetheless have to say that it’s essential.
Adam, these clarifications of what you’re doing with the “saying” are very, very helpful. Thanks.
Just a note that I’ve finally posted my “summary” of last week’s discussion.
1. The “word” is the seed that is planted in us. Our “saying” is the word that comes out of us.
2. It doesn’t take a lot of effort to connect the agrarian metaphors here to their sexual counterparts. It’s (surely?) unintentional, but the imagine of a “seed” being planted in my body that then swells and grows into a new life/tree isn’t too subtle, is it? Perhaps especially if what grows, here, out of us is a tree of life (where the “tree of life” always bears some important relation to the family “tree”). I believe Jenny’s said that she may be interested in explicitly taking up some of these themes?
I don’t think it is a stretch to make the connection between the agrarian metaphor–plant sexuality–and human being. I would be very interested in seeing an exploration of that connection.

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