To Open the Last Dispensation: Moses Chapter 1

Hugh W. Nibley

Reprinted by permission from Truman G. Madsen, ed., Nibley on the Timely and the Timeless (Provo, Utah: BYU Religious Studies Center, 1978), 2—20.

After all these years it comes as a surprise for me to learn that the Book of Moses appeared in the same year as the publication of the Book of Mormon, the first chapter being delivered in the very month of its publication. And it is a totally different kind of book, in another style, from another world. It puts to rest the silly arguments about who really wrote the Book of Mormon, for whoever produced the Book of Moses would have been even a greater genius. That first chapter is a composition of unsurpassed magnificence. And we have all overlooked it completely.

The Joseph Smith controversy is silly for the same reason the Shakespeare controversy is silly. Granted that a simple countryman could not have written the plays that go under the name of Will Shakespeare, who could? If that man is hard to imagine as their author, is it any easier to imagine a courtier, or a London wit, or a doctor of the schools or, just for laughs, a committee of any of the above as the source of that miraculous outpouring? Joseph Smith's achievement is of a different sort, but even more staggering: he challenged the whole world to fault him in his massive sacred history and an unprecedented corpus of apocalyptic books. He took all the initiative and did all the work, withholding nothing and claiming no immunity on religious or any other grounds; he spreads a thousand pages before us and asks us to find something wrong. And after a century and a half with all that material to work on, the learned world comes up with nothing better than the old discredited Solomon Spaulding story it began with. What an astounding tribute to the achievement of the Prophet; that after all this time and with all that evidence his enemies can do no better than that! Even more impressive is the positive evidence that is accumulating behind the Book of Moses—which includes fragments from books of Adam, Noah and Enoch; for in our day ancient books that bear those names are being seriously studied for the first time in modern history, and comparison with the Joseph Smith versions is impressing leading scholars in the field. But even without external witnesses, what a masterpiece we have in that first chapter of the Book of Moses! Consider the below.

Was the great last dispensation to be brought on with old shopworn forms and ceremonies? A dispensation is a period of the world's history during which the church of God with its covenants and ordinances is upon the earth; in the apocalyptic scheme of things it is a comparatively brief period of light following a long period of darkness. What would be an appropriate ensign to announce and inaugurate such a happy time? The single civilization that embraces the world today, whichever way it turns, sees only itself, a great all-confining cliché in which one can think only of what is being thought and do only what is being done. It cannot even imagine a new dispensation, let alone supply one. Like a heavy galleon it labors on into ever deepening gloom, prodded on its way from time to time by promising puffs of a New Order, New Method, New Education, New Deal, New Life, New Cure, New Light, New Way, etc., but ever and again losing momentum as the fleeting winds quickly blow themselves out, leaving the old scow to wallow on as best it may towards the dawn of nothing. To want something totally new and different is one thing; to supply it is another. Dr. Johnson, Boswell reports, "projected . . . a work to shew how small a quantity of real fiction there is in the world; and that the same images, with very little variation, have served all the authors who have ever lived." Who, then, is going to come up with anything really new? It would help also, since we are asking for the impossible, for this new thing to be vast in scope and glorious in conception and compounded of truth rather than fiction. From what source can we look for comfort? From none on this distracted globe.

It came from the outside, the Mormons said: The long, long silence was broken by an angel from on high. At once the whole world exploded in one long hoot of derision—adequate witness to the total novelty of the thing; here was something utterly alien and retrograde to everything the world taught and believed. It wasn't only that the boy Joseph Smith had an idea about an angel—it was the clear, detailed, factual, clinical account of the visits that left his fellowmen incoherent with rage. Even more outrageous was his vision of the Father and Son: the mere idea of it was astoundingly original, but again, the simple, straightforward, noble manner in which he reported it left no room for contention; it was "yea, yea, and nay, nay," for as the only witness to the most astonishing of his experiences, Joseph could not be confounded by any contrary evidence; and by the same token neither could anyone be asked to take him seriously were it not that he came before an unbelieving world with boundless riches in his hands.

For one thing, he brought out three formidable volumes of scripture. One need look no farther than the opening chapter of each of these to realize that a new dispensation is indeed upon us, with all the visions and blessings of old. The first section of the Doctrine and Covenants, or Book of Commandments, takes up all the main themes of the gospel that had been the burden of every former dispensation, and had been lost in all the dark intervals between them, and weaves them together into one strong texture in which warning and deliverance are equally balanced. The emergence in our day of the old apocalyptic literature, heretofore unrecognized for what it was, though it has suddenly become clear that the Bible teems with it, now supports Doctrine and Covenants, section 1, as new-found text after text echoes its message in identical terms.

At the same time, the opening chapter of the Book of Mormon emerges as the perfect model and type of those more specialized apocalypses or testaments attributed to individuals that are now taking up their position in the growing procession of early Jewish and Christian Apocrypha. The standard scenario which they follow is the story of the righteous man, distressed by the evils of his time and deeply concerned for the future of his people, for whom he weeps and prays until one day he is carried away in a vision in which he makes a celestial journey culminating with the view of God upon his throne; on his journey he learns the plan of salvation as well as the secrets of the universe, and receives a call to teach and admonish God's children on earth. Returning to earth, he first bears witness of divine providence to his immediate family, and bestows patriarchal blessings and prophetic warnings on his sons (hence the designation of his story as a "testament"), and then goes forth among the people to preach repentance and warn of judgments to come (that makes the account an "apocalypse"). Usually his message is rejected and he with a faithful band retires from the scene as destruction descends upon the wicked. Today we have testaments and apocalypses bearing the name of almost every patriarch, prophet, and apostle from Adam on down, some of them very old, and all of them connected in with each other and with the Bible at crucial points. Hence, we can say without hesitation that the first chapter of the Book of Mormon, the testament of Lehi, has the authenticity of a truly ancient pseudepigraphic writing stamped all over it. It is a well-nigh perfect example of the genre.

But it is the first chapter of the Book of Moses that commands the most boundless wonder and esteem. It was brought forth in the very month that the Book of Mormon came from the press and no one less inspired than the man who produced the one could have produced the other. Find the author of the Book of Moses and you nave found the author of the Book of Mormon. All other candidates may withdraw. And yet, what a difference! The one is a collection of the writings of pious sectaries in the wilderness—the Rekhabite motif resounds on almost every page: chronicles and annals, letters and sermons, commentaries, hymns and meditations; the other, the voice of Moses booming down the corridors of time as he transmits to us the words that come down to him from the beginning—he sings Enoch's song, and Noah's and Adam's, to which Abraham's is added in another book. But it is that opening chapter to which we turn with awe. What other prelude could there be to the history of the race, what other prologue could ever give it such depth of meaning and such gratifying consistency? First, we find Moses in the presence of God and the bosom of eternity, being apprised of a special calling to which he has been appointed as co-worker with the Savior. (Moses 1: 3—9.) A preliminary test is indicated—suddenly the lights go out and Moses is found lying unconscious and helpless upon the earth; as he slowly comes to himself, he recognizes the misery and the glory of fallen man: "Now . . . I know that man is nothing, which thing I never had supposed." And then, in the same breath: "But now mine own eyes have beheld God . . . his glory was upon me . . . I was transfigured before him." (Moses 1:10—11.) Weakness is his present condition, glory his everlasting birthright. It is in this moment of man's greatest helplessness and vulnerability that Satan chooses to strike, attempting first by persuasion and then by intimidation to get Moses to worship him as the god of this world. But Moses has not wholly forgotten who he is, "a son of God, in the similitude of his Only Begotten," and denounces Satan as a sham, while professing himself awaiting further light and knowledge: "I will not cease to call upon God, I have other things to inquire of him." (Moses 1:13, 18.) The humiliating exposure of Satan becomes unendurable when Moses announces that he actually is what his adversary falsely claims to be, "a son of God, in the similitude of his Only Begotten; and where is thy glory that I should worship thee?" This is too much for Satan, who casts aside his celebrated but now useless subtlety and launches a frontal attack of satanic fury, a tremendous tantrum, as he "cried with a loud voice, and rent upon the earth, and commanded, saying: I am the Only Begotten, worship me." (Moses 1: 19.) The whole scene is presented in dramatic form as a ritual combat, a stychomachia, and true to the ancient pattern, the hero is momentarily bested, overcome by the powers of darkness, as he "began to fear," and "saw the bitterness of hell." But with his last ounce of strength he calls upon God from the depths and is delivered: he has won the fight, he has prevailed against the power of him who "sought to destroy the world, for he knew not the mind of God."

And now the scene changes (verses 23 and 24 read like stage directions); the lights go up, the music soars and Moses, though remaining on earth, is again invested with glory and hears the voice of God proclaiming him victor, worthy and chosen to lead God's people "as if thou wert God"—the type and model of the ancient Year King proclaimed after his victory over death as God's ruler on earth. He is specifically told that he shall "be made stronger than many waters"—for he has just passed through the waters of death and rebirth, de profundis; and shown himself capable and worthy of the mission which is now entrusted to him. After this royal acclamation, reminiscent of combat and coronation episodes dramatized in the earliest year rites throughout the ancient world, after the coronation, the scene again changes, as Moses and the reader view the field of labor in which the prophet is to work; he receives a thorough briefing, an intimate knowledge of the earth in its cosmic setting, its physical makeup ("every particle" of it), and everything that lives upon it. Naturally, he wants to know what is behind the behind and beyond the beyond, but God assures him that such knowledge is not for now: "But only an account of this earth, and the inhabitants thereof, give I unto you" (Moses 1:35), with which knowledge Moses is finally "content." Nevertheless, quite fundamental to a correct understanding of this world is its relationship to the wider structure of things, to heavens without end and worlds without number, constantly coming into existence and passing away in an endless processing; " . . . and there is no end to my works, neither to my words." (Moses 1: 38.) And this cosmic discourse is summed up and concluded in the most comforting proclamation of all: "For behold—this is my work and my glory—to bring to pass the immortality and eternal life of man." (Moses 1: 39.) All this becoming and passing away, the endless processing of the same elements, would offer only the overpowering and depressing prospect of science fiction, were it not for that ultimate assurance: man is going somewhere after all; in the course of nature he is doomed (2 Nephi 9:7) but the course of nature does not have the last word—God is on top of the problem and he is working for us.

The three concluding verses of the chapter place upon it an undeniable seal of authenticity. Of careful concern in each of the records handed down through the Prophet Joseph is the establishing of the exact manner in which the work has been preserved. This is another mark of the newly discovered pseudepigrapha: these verses of Moses might have been taken out of any number of Jewish or Christian Apocrypha; especially those writings from the "Fortyday Literature" in which the Coptic records are so rich: "And now Moses, my son . . . thou shalt write the things which I shall speak. And in a day when the children of men shall esteem my words as naught and take many of them from the book which thou shalt write, behold, I will raise up another like unto thee; and they shall be had again among the children of men—among as many as shall believe." (Moses 1:40—41.) And so the present dispensation gets them: "And now they are spoken unto you. Show them not unto any except them that believe." (Moses 1:42.) Such is the standard formula for the preservation and transmission of apocalyptic writings.

As a literary tour de force, Moses chapter 1 is awe-inspiring. Equally impressive is the way it takes up a position alongside other ancient writings that tell the same story in much the same way. Of particular relevance are the apocalypses of Abraham and Adam, from both of which Joseph Smith has conveyed purported writings. Let us turn to them for some illuminating comparisons.

Those who wish to credit Joseph Smith with a comprehension of comparative literature and ritual far beyond his time and training are free to do so. They may even insist, as they have with the Book of Mormon, that this is the way any uneducated rustic would tell the story. Today, however, we have several very ancient and significant parallels to Moses 1, which lie far beyond the reach of coincidence or daydreaming. The number of details and the order in which they occur make it perfectly clear that we are dealing with specific works of great antiquity which come from a common source. To show what we mean, let us compare Moses', Abraham's, and Adam's confrontations with Satan; these stories themselves contain pointed references to Enoch, with whom each here is duly compared. Let it be remembered that these accounts are not scripture, but are simply ancient records that help us understand the Enoch story.

First the Apocalypse of Abraham, an Old Slavonic account discovered in 1895 and first published by Bonwetsch in 1897.¹ K. Koch has recently ranked it as one of the six definitely authentic early Hebrew apocalypses.² Let us place it in parallel columns against our book of Moses, chapter 1.

These parallel accounts, separated by centuries, cannot be coincidence. Nor can all the others. The first man to have such a confrontation with Satan was Adam. A wealth of stories about it closely matches the accounts of Abraham, Moses, Enoch, and other heroes. Perhaps the oldest Adam traditions are those collected from all over the ancient East at a very early time, which have reached us in later Ethiopian and Arabic manuscripts under the title of "The Combat of Adam and Eve against Satan."³ It contains at least thirteen different showdowns between Adam and the adversary, of which we present a few of the most striking. Since the motif was characteristically repeated with variations (the monkish mind could not resist the temptation to work a good thing to death) it will be necessary to repeat some passages from the book of Moses.

Plainly, others knew the story long ago, but who could have taught it to Joseph?

Notes

1.   For the sources, Paul Riessler, Altjüdisches Schrifttum ausserhalb der Bibel, 3rd ed. (Heidelberg: F. H. Kerle, 1975), p. 1267. It has been traced to Ebionite and Essene circles closely related to the communities of the Dead Sea Scrolls. Unfortunately, we are here reduced to using Riessler's German translation of the Old Slavonic text.

2.   K. Koch, Ratlos vor der Apokalyptik (Gütersloh: G. Mohn, 1970), pp, 16, 19ff.

3.   The sources are discussed and some of them are collected and translated in J. P. Migne, Encyclopedie Théologique (Paris: 1856), Cols. 289ff. It is to this work that our page numbers refer.