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Universal Myth and the Exodus
When doing a survey of every civilization in all the ages of the world, a recurring story or myth has been handed down within each culture from generation to generation. Each myth has different characters and circumstances — this is understandable, considering the myths are often passed along as unwritten folklore — but they all have a common theme.
In these mythological histories, we first have a heroic figure. He is often a king or some privileged person. This hero begins his life often in a state of peace and safety — in a kingly court or on a pastoral farm with beautiful orchards and a devoted family who provides him domestic bliss and stability.
From there, things begin to fall apart. His titles, rank, and even family are taken from him. Due to persecution and treachery, he must leave his high and holy dwelling to embark on an exodus. On the exodus he encounters many obstacles. Evil characters may attempt to overcome him. On his journey, he is given various tools such as talismans, clothing, words of power, and weapons to aid him.
At one place he may give certain key words to open a gate; at another he might be given a magical sword to slay a fierce dragon; at another he might have to prove his gifts of wit before he can pass by a wise and ancient sage who stands guard at a bridge. Whatever the difficulty, the hero displays exceptional valor and purity of heart, and thus overcomes great odds to defeat his enemies. As a result of the exodus, the hero saves his people from the onslaught of some sort of darkness or evil that is encompassing the land.1
This heroic story is found in ancient Greek and Roman mythology; it is found within the aboriginal tribes of Africa; it survives among the Asiatic peoples of the Pacific Rim. It is not only in ancient myth but everywhere in modern literature as well. In fact, this type of story has a common name in our times — an epic.
Storytellers, especially fantasy writers, seem to naturally gravitate to an epic-heroic-exodus theme: C. S. Lewis in his Chronicles of Narnia; George Lucas in Star Wars; and more loosely, J. K. Rowling in the Harry Potter series. And o f course, J. R. R. Tolkien uses these ancient storytelling devices more masterfully than any in his trilogy Lord of the Rings.
The heroic epic or exodus story has crossed so many cultural boundaries over so many generations that it is safe to say that it is The Story — the universal tale for all mankind. But why is it this story? Where did it come from originally? And why does humankind seem to naturally gravitate to it as if some unseen force motivates them?
The Exodus Pattern in the Lives of Prophets
The first answer to the above questions is found in the fact that this story is found in the most widely distributed book of all time — the Bible.
Moses' story, for instance, fits the above template perfectly. He was a well-honored prince in Egypt. But after he slays an Egyptian he is forced to flee to the wilderness. As a nomad in the Midianitish desert waste, Moses is called of God and obtains a staff with curious and mighty power.
Armed with this “rod of signs and wonders” (see Exodus 4:17, 20-21) and with exceptional faith in God, Moses overcomes the most formidable power of the day — the Egyptian empire. There is fire from heaven, plagues galore, angels of death, seas parting — everything a good epic needs. The result of these mighty works is that Moses frees the Hebrew people from their hard bondage, and gives them a land flowing with milk and honey.
The Joseph of Egypt story fits the same pattern. Joseph begins his life as a favored son, living the life of domestic comfort and joy. His exodus comes when, through betrayal, he is sold as a slave into Egypt. Joseph's trials are sore, culminating in being thrown into a dungeon through the treachery of Potiphar's wife. But through his gift to interpret dreams he makes his way back into favor and station in Pharaoh's court, and in the process saves Egypt and the household of Israel from the ravages of famine.
Even the story of Joseph Smith is in a similitude of the pattern. Joseph Smith enjoys pastoral domesticity on the family farm, but is soon driven from land to land. But he has gifts — mysterious tokens given from God — such as seer stones and the urim and thummim.
An angel shows him ancient records to be translated and an ancient sword, the sword of Laban, which was forged anciently and that was passed down from generation to generation. This sword was used to win mighty battles in different ages of the world. The sword never loses its luster; it is not subject to corruption. He saw that the sword would “never be sheathed again until the kingdoms of this world become the kingdom of our God and his Christ.”2
The Joseph Smith story is full of other gifts and tokens: breastplates, handkerchiefs of healing, and garments of power.3 Of course, his monumental work was to restore light amid the mist and darkness of this earth.
In fact, the scriptures place almost everything in the context of a token-aided epic story: Abraham must flee to a new land when his father attempts to sacrifice him, and with the aid of the urim and thummim he learns of the cosmos and hence is exalted in Pharaoh's court; Lehi sojourns to a promised land with the guidance of a numinous compass called the Liahona; John the Baptist sojourns in the wilderness and returns with a mantle of camel's hair in token of his authority; and the brother of Jared travels to a new land with the aid of glowing stones touched by the hand of God himself.
The fact that the prophets' lives in scripture conform to this pattern is interesting, but it still does not explain why the pattern pops up in cultures throughout history that were not familiar with the biblical prophets or their stories.
Adam's Unknown Exodus
One answer may be found in the concept of diffusion from a single point, meaning that if we go back far enough all these stories have a common ancestor. That ancestor would be the story of the human genesis — the story of Adam and Eve. But where was Adam's exodus? Where is the evil that is encompassing the land? Where is the treason that forces him to become a wanderer?
Hyrum Smith, who probably learned mysteries about Adam from unpublished revelations to Joseph Smith, wrote while in Liberty Jail: “Bands and imprisonments and persecutions are no disgrace to the Saints. It is that that is common in all ages of the world since the days of Adam. For he was persecuted by his own posterity in the days of Seth with such violence that he was said to flee out of his own country to another land, which God gave him afterwards for an inheritance.”
Adam, being the first man, is the great prototype of the human race. As is shown in the Latter-day Saints' most sacred liturgy, Adam is the pattern of how to navigate mortality. Therefore, it doesn't make any sense that Adam would be spared the difficulties connected with the exodus pattern.
Adam, too, was a ranger without a home. The treachery that caused him to flee came at the hands of his own children. With faith, valor, and tokens, Adam triumphs and returns to the promised land of Adam-ondi-Ahman, where he comes back into the presence of the Lord.4 Today Adam is Michael, the archangel, and he still fights our battles, and he will one day overcome the dark dragon in one final, epic struggle called the “battle of the great God” (D&C 88:112–115; Rev. 20:7–10).
Premortal World
In my mind, there is one more reason, most compelling of all, that the exodus pattern or epic finds itself in all cultures. It is that these myths have a universal ring of truth to them, because they are the offspring of truths once learned in a previous world. Diffusion from a single point of premortality, so to speak.
At work is a collective, distant memory. It manifests itself not as a specific recollection but more as an instinct. To Latter-day Saints, this distant memory is the premortal grand council in which we all took part. In this grand council, we learned that we would be entering into treacherous conditions. So dangerous, in fact, that some of us would be lost. The Father explained that we must leave our high and exalted stations, put on a weak and mortal body, and embark on an exodus to a new world, enduring sickness, pain, sin, temptation, and danger on every hand (Moses 4:1-2).
Lucifer, devoid of true valor, could not for stand this. It seems that he and his followers could not stomach the difficulty of the proposal. Joseph Smith explained: “The contention in heaven was — Jesus said there would be certain souls that would not be saved; and the devil said he could save them all, and laid his plans before the grand council, who gave their vote in favor of Jesus Christ. So the devil rose up in rebellion against God.”5
The exodus would be difficult, a struggle of titanic importance. It must have been unnerving to realize the high stakes — especially when not a solitary soul would be able to complete the journey without supernatural means (2 Nephi 9:6-10; Alma 12:21-37; 13:1-13). But we would have would help. God would give us weapons — the helmet of salvation and the sword of righteousness (D&C 27:18). He would give us gifts, talents, ordinances, tokens, priesthoods, and endowments; we would be anointed with oil and clothed in garments of power.
Above all, the Father would send his firstborn Son to overcome the death and hell we would be subject to (Rev. 13:8; 1 Peter 19:1).
The Son would be our Savior. In mythological lingo we might call him the hero figure. We learned that his destiny was to save the day. Although this hero was a great king like unto God, it was explained that he, like us, would lay aside his crown and holy station, and condescend to endure a most terrible exodus. He would endure great suffering. Hell would gape its terrible mouth after him. Only he was pure enough, true enough, manly enough to endure such an adventure and come off conquerer over the darkness in the land.
It must have caused our hearts to burn within at the grand council as the Father taught that his firstborn was willing to descend below all things in order overcome all things (D&C 88:6; 122:8).
When the Father's story was finished, we shouted for joy (Job 38:7). We had just heard The Story . It was the story of all stories. It was epic. It was a poem and a paradox and beautiful. It rang with truth through our souls and we knew it must be. There was no other way. We knew this was the only path to true greatness, and we were ready to engage the epic story.
So here we are today, living our exodus — mankind's epic, the people's test. Is it any wonder that this story speaks so powerfully to our hearts? Of course it does, because the story strikes at the very nature of our existence and harks back to our Master's epic journey.
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