Gadianton wrote:I'm thinking this refers to something I said, but I didn't say exactly this. I said that I reject a scholarly treatment of myth that allows one myth to be good and another one bad. I'm open to being proven wrong by the following: show me a contemporary reputable historian or anthropologist who ranks the moral content of mythology. Greek myths are good but Hopi myths are bad -- anything like that. (can send PM since I might not see it here).
A significant distinction I should not have missed. I think your distinction also clarifies for me the main problem I have with the mythicist approach (if we can call it that): the projection of a scholarly mindset into other realms and the assumption that that mindset has primacy, even superiority.
A scholar's role is to understand, and consequently that goal will determine the kinds of question that scholars ask (or should be asking), influence the structure of those questions, and alter the terms they formulate in articulating answers to those questions. But people who are living in a community and facing issues about that community aren't doing so as scholars. They aren't trying to understand what a thing is but rather to determine what course of action they should take. The scholarly approach is investigative, the practioner's deliberative. A scholarly view should have full hearing, because it may be helpful if it is applicable—but it may be neither helpful nor applicable.
I don't think Kish has been arguing for a view that is substantially different from what you would get from any of the Religious Studies PhD types who dominate the pages of
Dialogue and the new MI (apparently). Most of the time, I find these arguments annoying in the Mormon context not because I disagree with them but because they are misused by their practitioners who, while implicitly leaning on cultural relativity for their arguments, often abandon consistency and whatever self-awareness they have when they start insisting that their views are normative, usually intoning their scholarly authority. And in the end, they almost always do so insist.
I fear that many people see Kish as doing that here (maybe I'm misreading the room), but it seems to me his tack is slightly different because it's not about correcting a view or imposing (effectively what both classical FARMSian apologists and new MI scholars do) but rather offering it as a therapeutic alternative to a group of people who already know that, in terms of truth value, the Mormon myths are mostly, perhaps entirely, BS: you can view all those Mormons who still believe in the community myths as deceived or deceiving themselves at the behest of an evil cabal of geriatrics in Salt Lake City, Utah, if you want to, but maybe the scholarly view can create some space for a more sympathetic read of people that you were once a lot like, and maybe it can help explain why things are as they are and ease some frustration. I consider it an excellent example of how scholarship can be applicable and helpful.
But two things have to explained: 1) why the Stake President stays and 2) why Bill Reel and so many like him feel as they do. If we want to give as much sympathy as we can to all involved, I do not think it is as simple as just proclaiming something a myth, pointing out that every tradition has myths, and then letting certain things of the hook. I don't think Kish is doing that, but some are reading him that way, and then there are comments of this sort:
JP wrote:I find it foolish condemn people who choose to operate (or just naturally operate) within the realms of myth and tradition is really to condemn the human condition, because that's how we all operate. We're all products of the myths associated with whatever environment we find ourselves in. Each choosing when and where to suspend disbelief. Each basing decisions, even important ones, on myths we've created and stories we've told ourselves about what is "true."
The part of the problem I have is the
because part. It is foolish to condemn people for opinions because people can think and believe what they damn well want and will no matter what anyway. But everything after that is a misuse of a the scholarly articulation of the situation. It is also irrelevant. For a member of the community, this is about deliberation and not investigation ("what is to be done?" not "what is it?"). Knowing what it it is does not tell you what you should do.
It is true we all structure our reality through language and narratives, that myth is a natural bi-product of that, and that therefore, to some extent or other, we all operate in myth. So what? This is just a tu quoque fallacy universalized (let us call it the "nos omnes" fallacy). I don't think, from a scholarly perspective, one myth is any better than another, but if I have to decide to spend my money on my kid's college fund or tithing, "we all operate in myths" doesn't help me make that decision, even if it is true. I can take that scholarly articulation as a starting point, but I also have to use some criteria to help me allocate my time, labor, and emotion.
There is nothing wrong with evaluating myths; it is improper for scholars to do so in their capacity as scholars, but it is inevitably going to happen in other capacities. Myths arise from human communities and are abandoned by them. They don't deserve maintenance by natural right just because they exist. Zeus began life as a god at whose altars people sacrificed some of their most valuable possessions (their livestock), became a symbol of universal justice for certain segments of society, and then became a mere literary conceit forever after. Myths are born and die because people make decisions about them.
The question that confronts every member of the community who takes the written and irrefutable record of Mormon myth-making seriously is: why should I maintain this cluster of myths? Why should any of us? Unfortunately, that means a decision, and a decision means you have to start applying some judgment at some point. To retreat into what is merely a redefinition derived from a venue—scholarship—where very different goals obtain and where these decisions don't exist and where few a priori value judgments can be assumed is to use scholarship as a refuge from realityy—or as a bludgeon to attack it.
If anyone believes Mike Quinn's was on to something with his "magic world view", then Joseph Smith and co. at once are already mitigated somewhat in their "lying" by, namely, the magic worldview. The apple doesn't fall far from the tree.
I agree: "somewhat" but not entirely.
And more generally, I think we should remember that no one in Salt Lake City shares Joseph Smith's magic world view. Joseph Fielding Smith knew exactly what he was doing when he mutilated a primary document and hid an account of the First Vision. Hugh Nibley had been in possession of that primary document (his grandfather's journal) before he handed it over to Joseph Fielding Smith, and he demonstrably lied about its contents. You can't just say "magic world view" as an out (not saying that you're doing that, Dean Robbers, but I think a lot of the Givens-types do that).
Myths from a premodern culture—what Quinn basically meant by "magic world view"—are wildly inconsistent with each other because
they don't feel the need to impose consistency. It's not that people had trouble keeping their story straight about Zeus but that everybody recognized and were up front about the fact that Zeus had many different manifestations: Zeus Soterios, Zeus Lykaios, Zeus Chthonios, Zeus Olympios. In fact, Romans thought their Jupiter was Zeus, or was it Dis Pater? And the Celts had their equivalents (and let's not get started to on Irish mythology...), and Jesus Christ! we've got inscriptions bilingual inscriptions in Aramaic where Zeus is the gloss for Baal Shemin (himself a distant reflection of the Biblical Baal and the Baal of the Ugaratic mythological corpus). And of course there cycles of stories about this god (gods?) that are rife with inconsistencies and contradictions (was his nurse Amalthea a goat or a nymph?). Obviously, there are scholarly, historical explanations for this range of Zeuses, but we know about a lot of this range sometimes from the same author (e.g. Apollodorus). There was no imperative to craft one Zeus, impose that one view everywhere, and destroy or hide all the evidence that it was ever otherwise. Even when something like this
did happen in a premodern culture (e.g. Akhenaten, to pick from another tradition whose inconsistency such that it is often incomprehensible), it was considered lying and deception by contemporaries, not just one more example of the myth-making we all do and thus to be brushed aside as no big deal. Consistency and uniformity is rarely a feature of myth. Even in the Bible, there are two creation counts, two law codes, four gospels, etc.
The things we call "lies" start to show up when there is an attempt to impose consistency—which is a very modern, very unmagical thing. So, yes, Mormonism has a myths, both in form and function, like any other religion does. But there remain copious documents from its myth-making and myth-maintenance that have ntersected with a very strong impulse in Church leaders and members to impose consistency—because these are modern people we're talking. Inconsistency was a fact of life for pre-modern people—are we gonna have food this winter? will my kid die tomorrow—but consistency is so deeply a part of modern life that nobody bats an eye when demographers give us the exact year that a certain population will reach a certain number or even asks how they know that.
But the intersection of documented myth-making on the one hand and a cultural and institutional drive for consistency on their hand has naturally resulted in an abundance of lies. People can do with that what they want, but using scholarly constructs designed for a certain kind of intellectual activity doesn't erase the historical record, nor does it dictate what the best of course action should be for an individual or for the community with regard to Mormonism's myths.
I don't think we should condemn people who remain committed to the mythic system of Mormonism, but that doesn't mean we can't also admit that their myths are built on and sustained by a great deal of dishonesty—it's just in poor taste to do it in a Church setting. I think Bill Reel is guilty of poor judgment in terms of the social situation, then, and people leaning towards the "lie" camp are missing something essential about their own experience in Mormonism in not recognizing the mythic value of that system. They are also missing a chance to give other people and themselves a bit of break. But they're also not wrong in pointing out that there are a lot of lies behind the myths and practically no truth.
"As to any slivers of light or any particles of darkness of the past, we forget about them."
—B. Redd McConkie