By Doug Talley
Chapters 32 through 42 in the Book of Alma include some of the most powerful religious poetry ever written. Some might argue this misstates the case, that nothing in these chapters constitutes poetry at all, but rather a highly stylized rhetoric. My Oxford English Dictionary defines poetry as the “expression or embodiment of beautiful or elevated thought, imagination, or feeling, in language and a form adapted to stir the imagination and emotions.” On the other hand, the OED defines rhetoric as the “art of using language so as to persuade or influence others; the body of rules to be observed by a speaker or writer in order to achieve effective or eloquent expression.” The fundamental difference in the two art forms may lie in their central purposes, the one designed to excite imagination and the other to influence conduct.
Yet even this distinction falls short. Great poetry unquestionably influences conduct, even more powerfully at times than rhetoric. And great rhetoric unquestionably at times will also excite imagination. Perhaps, the distinction lies more in methods of expression. Poetry will often influence subtly and indirectly, rhetoric overtly. If the two arts were forms of weather, one might be a thunderclap and the other a breeze over lilies. And yet some cultures would make no distinction at all between the two arts. To the ancient Hebrews, as embodied in the book of Psalms, or in the writings of Isaiah, poetry and rhetoric were one and the same thing. Little surprise then, that Alma, writing in the Hebraic tradition, would fuse both art forms also.
Certainly, as I read Alma, his intent of promoting Christ-like conduct is everywhere noted, as in the lyrical injunction of Alma 37:35:
O,
remember, my son, and learn wisdom in thy youth;
Yea, learn in thy youth to keep the commandments of God.
A great deal of the writing is also clearly eloquent. And yet passage after passage transcends didacticism and mere eloquence. As I have tried to demonstrate in the two previous poetry columns, some passages are so lyrical they break into song. In fact, so many compelling poetic and rhetorical devices crowd one upon another that the virtuosity of Alma’s writing, like a lovely string of pearls, is simply dazzling.
Poetry Achieved Through Symbolism
Moreover, one of the distinguishing features of Alma’s writing that also elevates it above rhetoric to the level of poetry is his use of symbols. Again with reference to the OED, a symbol in literature is “a thing conventionally regarded as representing, typifying, or recalling something else by possessing analogous qualities . . . esp. a material object representing an abstract concept or quality.” The esoteric quality of most religions, and of most things spiritual, naturally tends to symbolism. A cross, for example, has become a symbol of the Atonement for millions of Christians.
Jesus Christ himself was a master of symbols, both in word and in gesture. Time and again he referred his disciples to some concrete material object to elucidate some spiritual concept, as when he said, Consider the lilies of the field, or when he took bread and broke it and said, Take, eat: this is my body. A particularly poetic combination of symbol in both gesture and in word is found in Christ’s instruction to Peter as rendered in John 21:15-17. In this passage we read that Christ instructed Peter three times in the same principle, to feed the flock of the Church.
This whole episode would seem to suggest a kind of performance art, that is, a poem that embodies gestures as well as words, what we might refer to in a classroom setting as an object lesson. But the Savior acts out this instruction with poetry – the use of metaphor repeated three times in a highly nuanced parallelism. To begin his instruction, he utilizes the setting of their supper – a highly symbolic setting comprised of a meal of bread and fishes laid on a fire of coals – to test Peter, whom he had earlier called to the ministry as a “fisher of men.” While indicating the foodstuffs, Christ asks of Peter three times, Simon Peter, lovest thou me more than these? Peter responds each time that he does love the Savior, and essentially is given opportunity to recant his threefold denial of Christ on the evening of the trial. With each response from Peter, the Savior then instructs him, not to feed himself as with bread and fish, but instead to feed the Church.
Poetry Lost In Translation
However, the Savior’s statements in the Greek original are much richer and more instructive than the King James translation suggests:
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Even if one cannot read the Greek, the difference in the passages is seen immediately. In the Greek original of this poetic parallelism the Savior is stating something slightly different with each verse. Another translation might be:
v. 15 – Nourish (or support) my lambs
(Literally, “Pasture my lambs”)
v. 16 – Tend (or cherish) my sheep
(Literally, “Shepherd my sheep”)
v. 17 – Nourish (or support) my young sheep
(Literally, “Pasture my young sheep”)
The word translated as “sheep” in verse 16 is probata, meaning literally “anything that walks forward,” generally “herds” or “flocks” and in this context a “flock of sheep.” The word translated as “sheep” in verse 17 is probatia, the diminutive form, meaning “young sheep” or “little sheep.” Unfortunately, the King James translation fails to maintain the nuance in the Greek that Peter is to watch over all ages of the flock, the child, the youth, and the adult. And this nuance no doubt refers not just to the young and old in age, but to the young and old in spiritual development also.
Further, much of the nuance of shepherding is lost in the King James translation. The word translated as “feed” in verses 15 and 17 is boske, meaning “to feed or to pasture” or “to nourish, support.” The word translated as “feed” in verse 16 is the Greek word Poimaine, meaning, “to be a shepherd, to tend, to cherish.” Peter is asked not merely to feed the flock, but to watch over and tend to it in all the ways a shepherd would – to pasture, to water, to protect, to lead. This little “poem” acted out between Christ and Peter is perhaps the richest and most sublime teaching moment in all of recorded literature, and yet so much is lost in translation.
I have digressed briefly from Alma to discuss the gospel of John for a reason. Poetry as a form can be more than lines laid out on a page in the shape of verses. The Savior’s instruction of Peter was not a poem as we commonly think of that term, but it was poetic gesture, coupled with poetic dialogue. The Savior’s Sermon on the Mount, beginning with the Beatitudes, provides another example of how poetry can otherwise be imbedded in common discourse. Is it wrong, therefore, to insist that the discourses of Alma also include highlights of poetry? Beyond the poetic effect of the various parallelisms Alma employed, there is additional poetic effect in the symbols he used.
Alma’s Contribution to Religious Symbolism
When considering Alma’s use of symbol at least three come to mind immediately – the seed, the brass serpent on a pole, and the compass. The seed referred to by Alma in chapter 32 is a symbol for the “word,” specifically the “word of the gospel.” Critics might see Alma’s use of this symbol as a kind of plagiarism, since Christ also uses the figure of “seed” to symbolize the word of the kingdom in the Parable of the Sower. (See, Matthew 13:1-23). But nowhere in recorded scripture is the symbol of the seed quite so extensively embellished as it is by Alma particularly in a parallelism found in chapter 32, verses 40 and 41:
[a] And thus, if ye will not
nourish the word,
[b] looking forward with an eye
of faith to the fruit thereof,
[c] ye can never pluck of the
fruit of the tree of life.
[a] But if he will nourish the
word, yea,
[b] by your faith . . . looking forward to the fruit thereof . . .
[c] it shall be a tree springing up unto everlasting life.
In these few verses, as no other writer before or after him, Alma makes the connection for us and links the “seed” of the gospel word to the biblical “tree of life,” thereby ingeniously fusing two symbols into one and bringing the combined symbol to a rich and fully developed poetic maturity. Alma himself must have understood the significance and power of this insight, because he refers to it a second time in Alma 33:23 with words that parallel and echo the earlier statement:
[a] And now my brethren, I desire
that ye
shall plant this word in your
hearts,
[b] and as it beginneth to swell
even so nourish it by your
faith.
[c] And behold it will become
a tree,
springing up in you unto everlasting
life.
In something of the same fashion, Alma develops in chapter 33:19-22 the symbol of the brass serpent raised on a pole in a manner that had not occurred before. The original incident can be found in the book of Numbers 21:9, where poisonous serpents afflicted the wandering Israelites. Moses was instructed by God to fashion a brass serpent on a pole, so that if any who had been bitten looked upon it, they would live. Again, critics might accuse Alma (or rather Joseph Smith) of a kind of plagiarism in the use of this figure, since it is found in the New Testament when Christ had referred to it as a symbol of being lifted up on the cross (John 3:14-15):
And as Moses lifted up the serpent in the wilderness, even so must the Son of man be lifted up: that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have eternal life.
Nevertheless, Alma interprets this symbol of the Atonement to establish two principles implicit in the symbol but never before expressed. First, Alma points out that the brass serpent raised up in the wilderness represents Christ as a healer of spiritual sickness. Christ had used the figure to represent his role as the grantor of eternal life, but Alma experienced and knew first hand the necessary, seminal experience preceding eternal life, which is the healing of the spirit. He himself had personally experienced and understood the healing effects of the Atonement upon his own spirit and therefore emphasized that principle in his discourse. Second, Alma points out the utter simplicity of that healing process. All that is required is to look. Both these principles are captured in a compelling and lyrical parallelism marked by repetition of the words “heal” and “cast” as found in Alma 33:21-22:
O my brethren, if ye could be healed by merely casting about your eyes that ye might be healed, would ye not behold quickly, or would ye rather harden your hearts in unbelief, and be slothful, that ye would not cast about your eyes, that ye might perish?
If so, wo shall come upon you; but if not so, then cast about your eyes and begin to believe in the Son of God, that he will come to redeem his people, and that he shall suffer and die to atone for their sins . . .
The Height of Originality
Finally, in the symbol of the Liahona, or as it was interpreted, the compass, Alma established another symbol of Christ that no critic can accuse him of plagiarizing, because it is wholly unique and original. Nothing like it is found anywhere in the Bible. Not only did Alma recognize the compass as a compelling figure, he framed that figure in an incredibly skillful double parallelism, comprised of two instances of the poetic technique known as “extended alternate”:
[a]
For behold, it is as easy [for you]
[b] to give
heed to the word of Christ [A]
[c] which will
point to you
[d] a straight
course to eternal bliss, [1]
[a]
as it was for our fathers
[b] to give heed to this compass [B]
[c] which would point unto them
[d] a straight course to the promised land. [2]
[e] For just as surely as this director
[B]
[f ] did bring our fathers, by following its course,
[g] to the promised land
[2]
[e] shall the words of Christ,
[A]
[f ] if we follow their course,
[g] carry us . . . into a far better land of promise. [1]
The bracketed letters to the left of each line identify the extended alternate parallelism. Each of these lettered lines parallels the same lettered line in the next “stanza.” However, as though Alma were not satisfied with merely one poetic technique, he overlaid the verses with another parallel structure as a kind of counterpoint. The bracketed capital letters and numbers to the right of several of these lines in fact identify two such parallel structures, both of them chiasms:
[A] word of Christ
[B] compass
[B] director
[A] words of Christ
[1] eternal bliss (i.e., heaven)
[2] promised land
[2] promised land
[1] better land of promise (i.e., heaven)
I suspect Alma recognized the inherent beauty of the compass as a symbol of the word of Christ. He also obviously recognized the beauty of the promised land as a symbol of heaven. He further saw how these two material objects, the compass and the land, connect with each other in the same way as their spiritual counterparts, the word of Christ and heaven, also connect with each other. No doubt he felt compelled to highlight the beauty of these insights in the most intricate and lovely structure he could manage. Accordingly, he combined in one highly original “poem” all three elements of genius discussed so far – his lyricism, his virtuosity, and his use of symbolism. Call these writings mere sermons or discourses if you must, they still elevate regularly to poetry of the highest order. Next month’s column, the final in this series, will address perhaps the most telling and important characteristic of Alma’s poetic genius – his universality.