Top Of The Morning

Compass of God

2011-11-25T13:49:00.001-07:00

I promised I would return to blogging once Compass of God was written, submitted to the publisher, edited, and sent off to the printer. All that's done and I'm happy to report that I'm sticking my toes back into blogging waters and testing the temperature. Its been a while. How have you been?

You can check out Compass of God at Deseret Book Online (there's even a review written by the first reader of the novel, Anita Worthen), or you can wait until it appears on bookstore shevles sometime later in October to have a look.

I'm busy writing volume 6, Land of Promise. I hope that doesn't confuse you. The full title: The Promised Land Series, Volume 6: Land of Promise, sounds like I'm stuttering. I'm not. There's a difference between a Promised Land and a Land of Promise, and I'm hoping to make that one of the major themes in Land of Promise which, incidentally, opens in the New World. Shocked? Did you ever think we'd actually get to the Americas in this series? Its a period of ancient history I've been itching to write about for over a decade. Hopefully you've been itching to read about it too. I'm almost "giddy" that years of ancient American research is finally coming out on the pages. Don't worry. I won't bore you with it. It will just operate in the background (and a little foreground) in support of the actors who people this series about the keystone of our faith--the Book of Mormon.

Hope you enjoy volume five. The managing editor at the publishing house, after reading Compass of God for the first time, said, "David, you really should write more romance novels." You'll understand what she meant when you get your hands on a copy. Let me know if you have a chance to read Compass of God. I'd enjoy reading your review. And stop in here at the blog from time to time. I plan on being a regular.

Its good to be back.

Backliner For Compass of God

2011-11-07T11:54:00.006-07:00

The author doesn't get to see what's on the back of the jacket cover until the book is released in bookstores. So naturally, I was curious when the first copies began appearing in bookstores last week. I'm not exactly sure who wrote the blurb that appears on the back cover for Compass of God, but I have my suspicions. During the production phase, one of the editors assigned to this project shared with me her favorite passage from the novel--its a snippet of dialogue that also appears on the jacket cover where Ishmael is speaking to his very marriageable daughters. Gotcha Shauna. Here's a sample of her best backliner gushing:

Beautifully written, deeply moving, and highly intense, Compass of God is a novel about a tumultuous and spiritually significant period of history that sweeps the reader along in the events that take a Book of Mormon prophet and his family into uncharted regions of time, place, and the human heart.

The cast of characters is richly diverse and compelling in this story of political intrigue, intricate family dynamics, and spiritual awakenings. Author David Woolley has once again created a masterful blend of intensely researched details, adventure, and drama, and he has an unerring grasp of the complexity of human relationships in this unforgettable story of love, betrayal, faith, and forgiveness.

Filled with page-turning action, this superb fifth volume in the Promised Land series has all the elements that make for outstanding historical fiction. It is a well-orchestrated, breathtaking symphony of adventure, romance, and a fever-pitched battle between the forces of good and evil.

In Memory of Irene Sendler

2010-07-13T00:11:00.009-06:00

by David G. Woolley

On May 12, 2008 Irene Sendler passed from this earth. She was 98 years old. A polish national living in Warsaw during the German occupation, she arranged with the Reichstag to hire on in sewer maintenance inside the Jewish Ghetto, a housing district the Germans sealed off and converted into a human holding area. What the Germans didn't know, was that Irene was an operative of sorts. An army of one. Commissioned by her heart, and advanced in rank by her conviction that freedom and liberty were the most precious gifts of God.

Neighborhood by neighborhood Jews inside the Ghetto were placed on rail cars and removed to concentration camps in Germany for extermination. As rumor of the Holocaust fed suspicion, mothers and fathers were convinced that the departing trains were not conveying their neighbors and friends to a better life outside the Ghetto. Desperation reached panicked proportion as parents tried to save their children from the hands of murderers.

Enter Irene Sendler. To German soldiers guarding the entrances to the Warsaw Ghetto she was a plumbing and sewer specialist with a large tool box and a three-speed, manual transmission covered black-box truck to transport her equipment. To the residents of the Ghetto she was a savior.

Irene trained her dog to bark uncontrollably at every Ghetto entrance. The soldiers didn't bother with the snarling mutt and let her pass without much more than a cursory visual check through the driver's window. The barking also covered the cries of Jewish infants hidden in the false compartment beneath Irene's tools. Children too large for the tool box were hidden in a burlap sack.

In all, Irene smuggled 2,500 infants and children to safety at half way houses around Warsaw and from there they were spirited out of the country. For her bravery the Germans broke both her legs, both arms, and severely beat her. But she survived her capture and guarded the names of all 2,500 children in a glass jar which she kept buried beneath a tree in her backyard until the war ended and she could help reunite the few Holocaust survivors with their children.

The year before she passed away, Irene was nominated for the Nobel Peace Prize. She was denied. The award was given, instead, to Al Gore for a slide show about global warming--an advocacy endeavor fraught with falsified data for which he has been richly rewarded with millions of dollars from global warming adherents. Here at the Top of the Morning we think Irene has gone on to far greater rewards than any King of Norway has power to confer.

Freedom and liberty. Irene never forgot the price of either and that's what makes her worthy of the true prize of peace.

The Dictates of Your Own Conscience

2010-07-02T08:32:00.018-06:00

by David G. Woolley

In this Norman Rockwell classic painting titled Religious Freedom, we're reminded that the revolutionary period of American history was fueled by the desire to be free to express religious belief, free to espouse a doctrine of faith, and free from any government intrusion in our religious participation.

The religious freedoms our founders guaranteed in the constitution are desperately under siege from US citizen groups, but now elements within our government are beginning to narrowly define freedom of religion as only the freedom to assemble in a house of worship. Its okay if you want to get together at church, but don't go thinking you have the freedom to espouse doctrines that dissent from the Government's position on moral issues. If freedom of religion is nothing more than the freedom to assemble, why did the founders write both liberties into the Constitution?

Hillary Clinton, the US secretary of state, speaking at Georgetown University last December, made the chilling point very clear. You can assemble for worship, but you're not free to publicly espouse religious beliefs that are counter to the governments stand in favor of the pro-gay rights movement, the pro-abortion movement or the pro-social justice and socialism movements. That's from the state department which is only a hop, skip and a jump away from the justice department. And then what do people of faith do? In this Manhattan Declaration video, Dr. Colson explains the difference between the freedom of assembly and the freedom of religion which is, in a nut shell, the freedom to espouse specific religious doctrinal beliefs without any government intrusion or coercion.

Of all the freedoms we celebrate on this fourth of July holiday, freedom of Religion is the foundation upon which all other God-given rights are based. Freedom of religion was the roiling under current that carried the American revolution into being, it was the reason for the founding of America. We should not only be grateful for our religious freedoms guaranteed in the constitution, we should be as willing as were our founders, to be watchful and to stand as guardians in defense of the dictates of our own conscience. Our religious beliefs are our most sacred trust and the highest of all the unalienable rights granted by our Creator.

Happy fourth of July!

World Cup Soccer "Vuvuzela (trumpet)" Update

2010-06-24T11:13:00.018-06:00

With all the controversy over the horn-blowing vuvuzela soccer fans at South Africa's World Cup, this photo explains a lot. If you've watched any matches you may have noted that players and coaches are complaining they can't hear on the field. Sound technicians at television stations around the world have worked feverishly to find a way to filter out the horn-blowing that is even more obnoxious live than it is via satellite or cable. But really, do a few network computer geeks think they can filter out this trumpeter? I wouldn't want to be the one to keep his trumpet-playing from being heard.

In a crucial decision handed down by FIFA last week, the vuvuzela will not be banned from any World Cup stadiums. Trumpeting isn't only an African cultural artifact, its big business in thousands of kiosks surrounding each venue. And for our trumpeteer, its more than commerce. Its a mission. The vuvuzela is to South Africa's 2010 World Cup as hot dogs and apple pie were to the USA's 1994 World Cup. The Africans are buying the plastic horns in droves and, apparently, word has gotten out beyond the confines of Johannesburg. One of the most heralded horn-blowers of all time was photographed recently in the stands, lending his heavenly talents to the ruckus in South Africa this month. Doesn't he have family playing for Mexico, Honduras, Uruguay, Chile, Paraguay, Brazil, Argentina, Japan, or maybe even the USA?

Go USA!

Go Moroni!

Bring home the cup to the New World!

__________________________
Join author David G. Woolley at his Promised Land Website.

One Good Man

2009-08-26T13:11:00.004-06:00

*Editor's Note: The Top of the Morning Staff has been waiting for director Christian Vuissa's (Errand of Angels and Baptists at our Bar-B-Q) next film to be released. Originally titled A Father in Israel, the movie is scheduled for release October 9th, 2009 under the title One Good Man with a subtitle of Life as a Latter-Day Dad. The movie has already won film society awards and accolades as a rich, authentic look at Mormon life. We hope you enjoy this film clip and spend a few moments reviewing the official One Good Man movie website for more details about this wonderful new addition to Mormon cinema. Christian Vuissa is fast becoming the source for high quality, artistic, heart-warming movies. We haven't seen the movie yet, but if it comes close to Errand of Angels we'll give it four stars and be tempted to go all the way to five. We'll let you know once the movie is released later this year.

Today, Like The Days Of Noah

2009-08-20T22:43:00.013-06:00

Editor's Note: A talented creator of LDS YouTube video favorites, davidkat99, has produced another powerful short in Today, Like the Days of Noah. The video compares the faith required to build Noah's ark on dry ground to the trials of modern-day discipleship. All the quotations and voice overs in the video are from General Authorities of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints. In the short discussion below, the creator of this video explains additional insights that led him to develop this presentation. The Top of the Morning staff, after a rather long summer vacation, is back in the Top of the Morning offices, and gosh, golly, jeepers, does it feel good to be back, ready for another year of our very best. Thanks for joining us for our yearly journey featuring videos, in-depth articles and of course, more on the Book of Mormon. We're getting back into "school" with this artistically rich, and prophetically thought provoking video from davidkat99.

From the Director, davidkat99:

It's been sometime since I have felt inspired to create another video. To tell you the truth, it has been nice to have a break and focus on family, reading, church and work. But I have felt strongly the need for this video to be created. A friend of mine, Karen Boren, a wonderful author and researcher found the quotes which prompted me to create this video.

There was only one time in history, where men were given in marriage to men, and women given in marriage to women. Want to venture a guess as to when? No, it wasn't in Sodom and Gomorrah, although that was my guess. Homosexuality was rampant there, of course, but according to the Talmud, not homosexual marriage. What about ancient Greece? Rome? No. Babylon? No again. The one time in history when homosexual marriage was practiced was during the days of Noah. And according to Satinover, thats what the Babylonian Talmud attributes as the final straw that led to the Flood.

"The generation of Noah was condemned to eradication by the flood because they had sunk so low morally, that, according to Midrashic teaching, they wrote our formal marriage contracts for sodomy and buggery--" Leviticus Rabbah 18:13. Quote from "Jewish Bioethics," Dr. Fred Rosner and Rabbi David Bleich, Ktav Publishing House, Israel, December 1999, page 219:

It is interesting that we are experiencing all of the same things that happened in the days of Noah. Same sex marriage laws have been passed recently in Connecticut and Iowa. Vermont and Maine will honor same sex marriage in September and New Hampshire in January 2010.

But as it was in the days of Noah, so it shall be also at the coming of the Son of Man; For it shall be with them, as it was in the days which were before the flood; for until the day that Noah entered into the ark they were eating and drinking, marrying and giving in marriage; And knew not until the flood came, and took them all away; so shall also the coming of the Son of Man be. JST Matthew 41-43.

Now this video is not about same sex marriage, but rather about the need we have to prepare both spiritually and temporally for what is to come.

__________________________
Join author David G. Woolley at his Promised Land Website.

Lives, Fortunes & Sacred Honor

2009-07-03T10:10:00.005-06:00

Editor's Note: All of us here at Top of the Morning hope you enjoy this piece about the signers of the declaration of independence. May we all have similar courage and hold sacred our honor as did these patriots who, with us, across the span of two centuries, still stand for liberty in the face of government tyrrany.

Five signers were captured by the British as traitors, and tortured before they died.

Twelve had their homes ransacked and burned. Two lost their sons serving in the Revolutionary Army; another had two sons captured. Nine of the 56 fought and died from wounds or hardships of the Revolutionary War.

They signed and they pledged their lives, their fortunes, and their sacred honor. What kind of men were they?

Twenty-four were lawyers and jurists. Eleven were merchants, nine were farmers and large plantation owners; men of means, well educated. But they signed the Declaration of Independence knowing full well that the penalty would be death if they were captured.
Carter Braxton of Virginia, a wealthy planter and trader, saw his ships swept from the seas by the British Navy. He sold his home and properties to pay his debts, and died in rags.

Thomas McKeam was so hounded by the British that he was forced to move his family almost constantly. He served in the Congress without pay, and his family was kept in hiding. His possessions were taken from him, and poverty was his reward.

Vandals or soldiers looted the properties of Dillery, Hall, Clymer, Walton, Gwinnett, Heyward, Ruttledge, and Middleton.

At the battle of Yorktown, Thomas Nelson Jr, noted that the British General Cornwallis had taken over his home for his headquarters. He quietly urged General George Washington to open fire. The home was destroyed, and Nelson died bankrupt.

Francis Lewis had his home and properties destroyed. The Redcoats jailed his wife, and she died within a few months.

John Hart was driven from his wife’s bedside as she was dying. Their 13 children fled for their lives. His fields and his gristmill were laid to waste. For more than a year he lived in forests and caves, returning home to find his wife dead and his children vanished. A few weeks later he died from exhaustion and a broken heart.

Norris and Livingston suffered similar fates. Such were the stories and sacrifices of the American Revolution. These were not wild-eyed, rabble-rousing ruffians. They were soft-spoken men of means and education. They had security, but they valued liberty more. Standing tall, straight, and unwavering, they pledged: “For the support of this declaration, with firm reliance on the protection of the divine providence, we mutually pledge to each other, our lives, our fortunes, and our sacred honor.” They gave you and me a free and independent America.

The history books never told you a lot about what happened in the Revolutionary War. We didn’t fight just the British. We were British subjects at that time and we fought our own government! Some of us take these liberties so much for granted, but we shouldn’t, not in the face of modern government tyranny. Take a few minutes while enjoying your 4th of July holiday to silently thank these patriots, and then decide to stand with these uncompromising men of liberty and refuse to let tyranny destroy the gift of a republic they bequethed us with their lives, their fortunes and their sacred honor.

__________________________
Join author David G. Woolley at his Promised Land Website.

The Great Mormon Novel

2009-06-10T18:37:00.012-06:00

by David G. Woolley

*Editor's Note: In a column titled Great Novels Need Doubt as Vantage that appeared in the Deseret News Mormon Times, religion editor Jerry Johnston lamented there would likely never be a Great Mormon Novel because he has, "known some marvelous Mormon wordsmiths. But being a Mormon is not like being Catholic or Jewish. There is precious little wiggle room for devout LDS writers. There aren't a lot of gray areas to explore."

Here at the Top of the Morning, author David G. Woolley suggests that the great Mormon novel will take the broken, first step stories and make them complete. And why not? If Mormonism is the fullness of the gospel, then shouldn't Mormon novelists be the ones who bring that fullness to storytelling? Here is David's response to columnist Jerry Johnston.

June 10, 2009

Dear Jerry:

The Great Mormon Novel is possible. It will happen. It will be faithful, uplifting, and embraced by those in and outside of the church for the very reason that it completes the now incomplete definition of the great novel by mending our broken stories where evil is personified as good, and completing our incomplete dramas where good is lampooned as evil.

The great Mormon novel won't chart new territory or break new ground as much as it will lead the reader to rediscover the storytelling path to our fullest mortal potential--the path that is lost in so much secularization.

The great Mormon novel will reacquaint men with the divine. It will celebrate the demands of gospel centeredness. It will rediscover what has been lost. It will restore faith in men, reverence for God and it will uncover the revelatory connection between heaven and earth. It will find joy in the work of building the kingdom. It will portray the shedding of one's ego and ambitions. And it will find its voice, not in the surrendering of one's ideas as you suggest in your article, but by celebrating the divine creativity that flows from discovering that the will of God is an infinitely more holy road than is the dead-end of half way back authorship. The community of great Mormon novelists isn't limited to Mormons who leave the fold and come half way back to the church. There is a more complete ending to every story than coming half way back.

The literati of our time celebrate redemption in the half way back story. The world finds comfort in those first redeeming steps. There is a certain worldly familiarity in the Aaronic Priesthood approach to redemptive storytelling, and since all storytelling is about redemption, the great Mormon novel will plumb the depths beyond those first preparatory steps and carry the reader into the restored fullness of the redemptive human drama.

The great Mormon novel will be a Melchizedek novel that takes redemptive storytelling through to is fullest, most complete, entirely natural dramatic high point. A temple climax set in the figurative tops of the mountains. It will give us hope that men are that they might have joy. Divine. Eternal. Joy.

The great Mormon novel won't be the investigator turned convert King Lamoniesque story. It will be the disciple, final stage, Enosesque story. The story of an active, bishop-like, tithe-paying, Relief Society President-like, moral, obedient, humble, temple-going, ecclesiastic supporting soul, who finds redemption not in the preparatory steps of coming back into the fold, but in the sanctifying graces of the life of discipleship, adopting God's will as his own. Isn't that the message of the restoration? Restoring an understanding, not of the first principles and ordinances, but of the divine potential in each of us? The great Mormon novel will give the reader a glimpse of their divine end while they are yet living in the earthly pages of their mortal beginnings.

It will happen Jerry. New wine will be poured into new bottles. The great Mormon novel will be written. The old rules of literary critique will be discarded for new ones. The old ways of viewing a novel will become new. The world will unwrap our literary gift left under the tree and know us better. The pages will be salted with inspired inklings and prophetic foreshadowings and when the reader arrives at the last page, she will close the book and say, "I knew it was going to end like that." And by knowing us better, the world will know that though the end is foreshadowed in the beginning, the satisfying climax isn't in the first steps of coming half way back along the narrow way or the opening scene of chapter one, but in enduring to the sanctifying conclusion. Which is, as in all great stories, The End.

Sincerely,

David G. Woolley
LDS Novelist

__________________________
Join author David G. Woolley at his Promised Land Website.

The Four Most Caring Words (Part I)

2009-04-10T00:05:00.044-06:00

by David G. Woolley

Editor's Note: We promised part III of the Language of Nephi and we still plan to deliver. We're just building suspense and maybe some bad will. Sorry. Check back in a couple of days for what we think will be a very interesting post. Until then, please indulge us our economic view from the fiscal desk.

In this initial The Four Most Caring Words post we examine our current economic crisis by looking at some spending numbers. Then in Part II and Part III we'll have a look at similar economic booms and busts from the Book of Mormon. There really is some hard economic data in the Book of Mormon on nearly all the economic principles driving the current crisis. In the final post of The Four Most Caring Words series we'll detail the recommendations in the Book of Mormon for getting out of this kind of economic mess and how to avoid it in the future by adopting the heaven-ordained economic mind-set. Hope you enjoy our newest series The Four Most Caring Words. And don't forget to check back for our continuing series on the Language of Nephi. So many series, so little time.

According to Elder Robert D. Hales in a discourse given during last weekend's LDS General Conference we can't afford it are the four most caring words you can speak. Here at Top of the Morning we agree. Have a look at our video clip above which graphically illustrates our point. Debt has far too much power to trash free agency and when you get into the subtle and nuanced business of depriving your brothers and sisters of their free agency you're planting your feet solidly on evil territory. It’s no wonder the prophetic council for our day is to get out of debt and stay out of debt. Sadly, during the past fifteen or twenty years of economic plenty, households spent far too much on wants, over-extended their credit, and saved less than any other generation in the history of financial record keeping. It was a collective miscalculation that the good times were gonna keep rolling. We ignored the most caring words and told ourselves not to worry, we could afford it.

If debt is bad for households, can it still be a good idea for, say, the people who print the money? We don't think so. In fact we think that the only difference between micro household debt and macro national debt is the number of people it enslaves by removing their freedom to choose, essentially limiting their free agency, removing the path to self reliance and making large segments of the population dependent upon government dole. We're of the opinion that this massive spending is potentially satanic in the sense that it has the potential to enslave an entire country and possibly the entire globe by threatening the freedom to be self reliant, self determining and free. Permit us an adjusted-for-inflation dollar chat in support of our opinion.

The Bear Sterns bailout last October 2008 came in at around 29.5 billion dollars, give or take a few bonus compensation packages. Compared to the cost of building the Panama Canal at $790 million dollars or the Hoover Dam at $78 million dollars, that one bailout alone could buy Americans a Panama Canal for every state in the union with water to spare. That's a lot of waterway transportation infrastructure. Likely too much. If you add the $97.2 billion to bail out Bank of America and another $97.4 billion for the Chrysler and General Motors bailouts you've got the equivalent of about 350 Panama Canals. That's enough canalary for every river, stream and donnybrook on the planet. And that doesn't even include the $112 billion dollars for AIG. The AIG mess alone is almost as much as we spent on the entire Marshall Plan to rebuild Europe after WWII which cost us $115 billion inflation adjusted dollars.

Most of you may not have noticed the day the US government handed over $139 billion to General Electric. The CEO, Mr. Immelt, is on the President's economic advisory team which makes that bailout just a little questionable. It’s the sort of economic back scratching that has been the foundation for strong, healthy secret combinations since the day Cain slew Able. If you include the $235 billion dollars for Citigroup the running total reaches $710 billion dollars for big banks and corporations and we're just getting started.

The $300 billion for home owners who can't pay their mortgages is just slightly below the entire cost for World War I which came in at a whopping $324 billion. That's the entire cost. Them. Us. And every warring nation in between. Thankfully it’s not as much as the $400 billion handed to Fannie Mae and Freddie Mac last month. Those are the two government owned and operated lending firms that pretty much precipitated this entire mess and no one blinked an eye when congress last week passed out $220 million dollars in bonuses to the Fannie and Freddie people who recklessly approved loans to borrowers they knew could never pay them back. We were likely too busy being angry about the $218 million dollars in bonuses that went to AIG people to get mad at congress for slipping $220 million dollars of bonuses under the table to their friends at Freddie and Fannie. Or maybe we were just so inundated with bailout burnout to keep track any longer. But I can't help keeping track. The secret combinations just keep piling up.

These government spending numbers are ginormous. Anyone of these programs or packages would rank among the largest spending programs in US history. In fact, each one, separately, qualifies as record breaking for any spending program since the beginning of time. Nothing compares to this. Ever. Each spending program approved by congress and signed into law by our president, by itself, is right up there with the entire New Deal that totaled $500 billion in spending. Yes. The entire fifteen years of New Deal dole.

Now add to these spending programs the TARP money (Troubled Asset Relief Program) at $700 billion dollars and don't forget the $787 billion dollar stimulus spending package--that thousand page bill congress never read, and you end up with a grand total of codified into law, already spent 4.3 trillion mind-boggling dollars to date and that's only four months into this mess. That's eight times the cost of the New Deal and it even beats the all time record holder, World War II at 3.4 trillion inflation-adjusted dollars.

Unfortunately that isn't the end. Our president and congress have committed to spend up to 7.8 trillion more dollars in new programs over the next 8 years. That's new dollars, above and beyond what it would take to operate the government each year had we kept with our previous budget projections. Add it all up and you get a whopping 12.2 trillion dollars. That's twenty-four times the cost of the New Deal and we managed to spend it in four months not fourteen years.

With a budget like this we could Panama Canal across every land mass on every planet, orbiting moon, and asteroid in the solar system. Water or no water. There's simply no way to raise this kind of money. We don't produce enough goods and services in America to tax our way out of this spending predicament so our government has made the precarious decision to borrow from our increasingly wary creditor. China.

When all these Chinese debts come due, the US will likely be forced into some kind of bankruptcy. But since there is no such thing as a federal bankruptcy, and there’s no way on earth we can work our way out of this kind of spending morass, our money becomes worthless. We can't buy anything. We can't sell anything. We can't convince anyone in the world to loan us money or ship us goods, or food, or oil. It is a perfect economic storm of our own making. For years our government muted the four most caring words, and now those excesses of spending on too many things we wanted but didn't really need has precipitated a crisis, we are beginning to regret our collective political silence.

Or are we?

We know we can't afford all this spending. The government knows we can't afford it. And the government knows that we know we can't afford it. But still we passively persist in the engorgement of government through unprecedented debt on the fear that our propserity will collapse when we really should be tightening our collective spending belt. Really tight. Painfully tight. Budget-reducing, program-reducing, benefit-reducing, entitlement-reducing, lean-on-your-family, your-food-storage, and your-faith-in-God tight.

In our Top of the Morning opinion, the only solution, and it is a solution available to us through a narrow time-window of likely ten or twelve precious-short months before we pass the spending point of no return, is for government to stop spending now and repeal much of the obligations signed into law over the past four months. That or we may end up paying what I can only articulate as the dreaded double tax.

The government can't tax dollars we've earned, paid taxes on and put securely away in savings. At least not by the current tax code. So what do they do with those trillions of dollars Americans have earned and placed in savings accounts or taken out of the stock market and placed in safe haven financial instruments during the past six months of financial panic? They make your money worthless. That's right. The government does it by printing new dollars. Lots of new dollars without borrowing the value of those dollars from a creditor through the sale of US Treasury Bonds.

The government took the first step toward the double tax a few weeks ago when the FED announced they were monetizing the debt, essentially cutting the tie between the printing of money and the borrowing of the value of that printed money in the form of a government IOU, what money people call the purchase of government debt by the FED without tying that purchase to any debt instrument like selling bonds to foreign governments. Mainly to China. The initial result of monetizing the debt to fund the printing of money rather than funding debt through taxation sent gold prices soaring nearly $80.00 an ounce in less than ten minutes of trading. The second knell in this death march was more subtle than the intial monetization. Over the past three weeks the government has had a rather difficult time selling bonds. No one wants to buy them unless we twist their arm. American debt has become a rather high risk venture so the interest rates we pay to China have soared along with the price of gold. You can't blame China. Can a government that borrows from itself, essentially writing itself an IOMe, still be taken fiscally serious by any intelligent creditor for very long?

Likely not.

The more deadly result of all this printing of money and monetizing of debt kicks in when all those dollars are passed out and begin flooding the economy at the mall, the gas pump, and the grocery store. Inflation. Too many dollars chasing too few goods and services. This is not your normal annually adjusted, warm fuzzy, when-I-was-a-kid-a-candy-bar-cost-ten-cents inflation. Which is followed immediately by loss of faith in the dollar. An inflation induced panic. At the current rate of government spending, inflation could reduce the buying power of your savings in half, or a third or an eighth of its current value. Or worse. That’s what economists mean when they say the current level of government spending has the potential to wipe out family savings and make large segments of the population dependent on government dole. What no one is talking about is that may be precisely the aim of all this spending: to make you dependent on government programs rather than providing you with the tools and the freedom to become self reliant. And you thought the government couldn’t tax the money you stuffed under your mattress. Wrong.

We can't afford it. These are the four most caring words you can utter and you may want to make sure your government leaders hear them from you again and again until they begin to understand the terrible consequences of debt powerful enough to enslave all of us in a free-fall from economic free agency into an the abyss of economic dependency. For the remainder of our lives.

Join us for our next post in the Four Most Caring Words series when we examine similar boom and bust dilemmas in the Book of Mormon, beginning with the ancient economic principal that has been at the root of all heaven-ordained economies. Thou shalt not covet. That command, or the lack of abiding by that edict, reiterated by Elder Boyd K. Packer in last week's LDS General Conference Priesthood session, is at the root of all the ancient economic data coming out of the Book of Mormon. The hard numbers are in that restoration scripture if you know where to look. And we plan on taking a very hard look.

Until the next post, Top of the Morning to you.

__________________________
Join author David G. Woolley at his Promised Land Website.

The Language of Nephi (Part III)

2009-03-30T00:55:00.002-06:00

Editor's Note: We've been verifying all sorts of complex linguistic and archaeological data with important Book of Mormon accounts for part III of the Language of Nephi. That's our excuse for not posting part III sooner. The Top of the Morning staff is really excited about our next installment and we're nearly complete. Check back in the next twenty four to forty eight hours for what we think will be a fascinating look at the Language of Nephi, the City of Nephi and exactly how Mosiah's spoken tongue and written language likely mixed with the language of the Mulekites at Zarahemla, three centuries after Lehi arrived in the New World. Thanks for your patience.

New Book of Mormon Epic Movie

2009-03-07T07:00:00.005-07:00

Editor's Note: Despite the economic downturn, the Top of the Morning staff is still on track to release a new Book of Mormon epic by the end of the year. Unlike previous attempts we've spent millions on casting just the right actors in every major role. The sets, special effects and costume design are academy award quality. And our on-location filming is worthy of top cinematography honors.

The script is one of the finest to grace the silver screen, but we're not blind enough to think we can overcome the most difficult obstacle in an epic project like this. The book is always better than the movie. Take a look at our Top of the Morning trailer and let us know what you think of our casting selections, special effects and award winning set designs.

We hope you agree that we've got a winner, but we need your feedback. Thanks for watching and thanks for posting a comment.

The Language of Nephi (Part II)

2009-03-03T07:00:00.036-07:00

by David G. Woolley

Editor’s Note: The staff here at Top of the Morning is excited about our second installment on the Language of Nephi. You can read Part I of this series right here. Thanks for joining us for another look at the Language of Nephi which we believe you'll enjoy even more if we sub-titled it the alphabet included logographic system. Don't worry. We'll explain.

The Book of Mormon mentions two languages, the Language of Nephi and the Language of the Egyptians. Were they related? Was one used by the Lamanites and the other by the Nephites? Or were they different names for essentially the same language? Were they a collection of written characters or a spoken tongue? To understand the obsession Book of Mormon scribes had for their language you may want to view language as they viewed it, as an almost exclusive reference to written characters. For ancient Nephites and Lamanites the spoken tongue was another matter, but it likely wasn't considered their language or what today linguists define as a system of symbols for communicating ideas.

Written language doesn't evolve as quickly as the spoken tongue, but changes do occur over time, influenced almost entirely by the more volatile changes in the phonetic language. Once the Nephites were established in the New World, the term Language of Nephi was a logical distinction for their evolving written language. Moroni’s declaration that their reformed Egyptian characters were influenced by changes in the spoken tongue is an authentic expectation of the written Nephite language evolving in geographic isolation from the mother script.

What we usually refer to as Egyptian hieroglyphics began as a collection of characters, each one representing a whole concept. Symbols were later developed to represent the sounds in the spoken language, what we call an alphabet. Instead of discarding the hieroglyphic characters for the newly developed alphabet, Egyptians combined the two by inserting letters from the alphabet alongside hieroglyphic characters. The result is what scholars refer to as the alphabet included logographic system. For three thousand years the Egyptians wrote in a jumble of phonetic and pictographic characters. Writing was a difficult skill to acquire and the ancient Egyptian school children fortunate enough to afford an education were schooled in the difficult skills of letters.

Egyptian children weren't the only students. Around 610 BC, Egypt reached its pinnacle of influence across the ancient world. Similar to the Lamanite educational experience, the written language of choice in Lehi's day was tied to economics. English in our modern world won that same enviable status. An understanding of Egyptian script carried with it the possibility of wealth and every Phoenician, Assyrian, Greek, Arab, and Babylonian clamored to learn the language of prosperity. Egyptian teachers found employment in the homes of wealthy Hebrews, Assyrians, Ethiopians, and Greek businessmen where they taught the language of commerce—the Language of the Egyptians. The Book of Mormon begins with a very authentic reference to the education of the sons of Lehi. Though Laman, Lemuel, Sam and Nephi spoke Hebrew, they were instructed in the written characters of Egyptian origin.

Chinese scripts, like the ones pictured above, and Mayan scripts pictured below, are further excelent examples of alphabet included logographic systems. In order to read the scripts you must first learn the meaning of hundreds of characters. It's a difficult challenge. It’s also considered an achievement. The difficulty inherent in these complex writing systems makes the spread of literacy in the general population difficult, but the numerous benefits include a sense of multilingual capacity. Chinese and Japanese speakers can't communicate orally, but since both groups use the same characters they can write to one another. Educated peoples of the ancient near east followed the same pattern. They spoke different languages, but they shared the same written characters.

Nephi spoke Hebrew, but wrote using Egyptian characters. A thousand years later it’s likely that Moroni knew nothing of Hebrew. In fact his name, Moroni, is a Jaredite name likely from the Zoquean/Olmec language spoken along the Atlantic Gulf Coast north of the narrow neck of land. It means one from Moron, the ancient Jaredite Capital and also the general location from which his father Mormon migrated to Zarahmela. Nephi's Hebrew tongue was swallowed up by the lingual tide of the much larger Meso American populations speaking the dominant dialects of the Pacific coastal highland regions. If spoken Hebrew survived all the way down to Moroni's day it was preserved among very few in the royal ruling class of Nephites--a difficult and highly unlikely preservation of a linguistic artifact that required a thousand years of vigilance. Throughout history the spoken tongue of the smaller population is nearly always lost in the language of the larger, dominant population and it’s likely that Moroni, if he were to meet Nephi, would not have been able to communicate orally. However, by using the alphabet included logographic system of the Language of Nephi, Moroni could have written to his prophet colleague.

It appears that the characters in the Language of Nephi were likely used by speakers of different tongues which would explain the fundamental lack of any reference for the need of interpreters as the Nephites governed what became a multilingual nation no later than 130 BC and likely as early as Nephi's inland migration from the Pacific coast to the highlands at the City of Nephi. This early multilingual diversity among Nephi and his people recalls the account of Sherem, an outsider who likely learned the phoenetic Hebrew tongue and the pictographic written Nephite script and used his acquired skills to study the Laws of Moses and his oral skills to counter the doctrines taught by the Prophet Jacob.

Ancient Meso Americans contemporary to the Nephite Civilization (580 BC to 400 AD) are refered to by archeologists as pre-classic Mayans (550 BC to 450 AD) living in southern Mexico and Guatemela. The overlapping time periods for the rise of these civilizations are identical and evidence from both cultures suggest their language systems were similar if not the same. The Mayans spoke hundreds of dialects in four major language groups. Quiche, Chol, Yucatec, and Tzeltal. We know that the Nephite and Lamanite civilizations, taken together, spoke at least three dialects. Nephite, Lamanite, and Mulekite. The Book of Mormon also hints at multiple spoken dialects among the Lamanites. And Alma's mission to the out-post city of Amonihah high in the Pacific Coastal mountains in the extreme northern territories of the Nephite Kingdom may have been, for him, a foreign language mission. Its likely that the larger Lamanite population spoke many languages. Despite their lingual diversity, Book of Mormon civilizations and Mayan civilizations used a similar alphabet included logographic system which may explain why Book of Mormon scribes remain silent about any need for translation when Nephites encountered Lamanites. It also explains the fascination for Lamanite scribes for teaching the written Language of Nephi throughout the Lamanite kingdom as a means to breakdown language barriers between multilingual subjects, improve communication, expand trade, and increase wealth.

The alphabet included logographic system of writing is beset with exponential ambiguity. Take the Egyptian character for Lotus flower. It’s also the character for the numerical concept of a thousand. And then there is the sheer problem with language capacity. Ancient scribes couldn't create pictures for every expression of thought. When they determined that the number of characters didn't begin to match the countless ideas requiring expression or the ever-expanding lexicon of words in the spoken language, Chinese, Mayan and Egyptian scribes did what Nephite and Lamanite scribes likely did. They assigned different meanings to the same characters. It was a formula for confusion and to fix the increasing number of ambiguities additional characters were placed alongside the characters of double meaning. It's a classic case of determinative modifiers. The additional characters provide the context, essentially requiring the reader to read the entire phrase in the text to understand the intended meaning of a single character or risk serious misunderstanding. Speed reading was next to impossible. Moroni was likely referring to this determinative modifier frustration when he very authentically recorded that wherefore, when we write we behold our weakness, and stumble because of the placing of our words; and I fear lest the Gentiles shall mock at our words. (Ether 12:25)

Mayan writing lacked the same precision that elicited Moroni's complaint. Linguist Sir Eric Thompson informs us that, "the reader had to have a good background of mythology and folklore to comprehend the texts." It’s that same idea Nephi was trying to convey when he tells us that a background in Jewish culture was needed to understand the context of Isaiah's writings(2 Nephi 25: 1-2,5).

In Part I of this series I pointed out that Hebrew words, grammar and the conceptualization of Hebrew ideas has been identified in Mayan writing like the glyphs you see pictured below. That makes sense to readers of the Book of Mormon if indeed it was Hebrew speakers who introduced the new communication tool of a written language into a multilingual population already living in the Land of Nephi when Lehi and his family arrived. What has not been identified in Mayan writings is any Egyptian word or phrase. The lack of any Egyptian word would suggest caution on the part of researchers unless, of course, you consider the entire alphabet included logographic system of the Mayans nothing less than the prodigal son of the Egyptian mother language.

Join us next week for Part III of this series, the Language of Nephi, when we take a closer look at the beginnings of the Mayan Language at Kaminal Juyu in highland Guatemala around 550 BC and why, among many other factors, those Mayan glyphic writings like the ones you see pictured to the right, led Book of Mormon scholars to suggest this location as the original City of Nephi. The language that disseminated from this location was the civilizing force that catapulted Mayan culture into the most advanced civilization of the ancient New World. Is it possible that the Language of Nephi influenced the only ancient American culture between Alaska and Tierra Del Fuego to develop a written language? Join us next week when we explore the language artifacts surrounding the City of Nephi.

__________________________
Join author David G. Woolley at his Promised Land Website.

The Language of Nephi (Part I)

2009-02-22T07:00:00.027-07:00

by David G. Woolley

Editor’s Note: The Top of the Morning staff is pleased to introduce the first in a four part series on the Language of Nephi and its influence on the rise of an Ancient New World civilization. We’re also happy to be back after a three week hiatus. Top of the Morning went private after we decided that maintaining our beloved blog required far too many resources in research and writing time for such a small audience. However, due to communications received from previously unknown readers, we’ve decided to return to the blogosphere on a provisional basis. Please let us know you’re reading by leaving a comment, signing up as a follower, or by telling your friends about Top of the Morning so we don’t make the same mistake again.

What exactly was the Language of Nephi? A spoken tongue from an oral tradition? A written language? Did it adhere to the modern dictionary definition of a systematic means of communicating ideas or feelings by the use of conventionalized signs or was it something completely different? Was it like modern English or Spanish or French where each written letter represents a sound in the spoken tongue? Or was it more like the flowing, artistic Chinese logographic characters with no connection to the sound in the oral language? How was the Language of Nephi related to the reformed Egyptian characters Moroni tells us were passed down and altered over the centuries? (Mormon 9:32)

Nephi tells us he made his record in the learning of the Jews and the language of the Egyptians. What did he mean? He spoke Hebrew in Jerusalem's market place and over the dinner table with his brothers and sisters. He spoke it traveling the trade route across Arabia and in the New World. Despite the possibility that he may have learned one of the many dialects of the four major Mayan languages spoken across Meso America, he likely continued speaking Hebrew throughout the remainder of his life.

When Nephi mentioned the learning of the Jews in the opening verses of the Book of Mormon (1 Nephi 1:2) he was likely referring to all things Jewish. Religious observances. Belief. Home schooling. Private education. Merchant trade. Theft. Perfumes. The Laws of Moses. Robber bands. Weaving. Music. Agriculture. Olive harvest. Wine harvest. Grain harvest. Robbery. Prophets. Architecture. Dancing. Blacksmithing. Bartering. Conspiracy. Prophecy. Carpentry. Sorcery. Milling. Baking. Corruption. Money changing. Taxation. Military tactics. Graft. Financial loans. War. The collection of debt. The fishing industry. Stone cutting. Government opression. Irrigation. Soothsaying. Reading. Writing. And arithmetic. In essence, the depth and breadth of Jewish ways. The learning of the Jews was what today we would likely call ancient Jewish culture.

Nephi grew up in Jerusalem. He observed the performances and ordinances of a people living under the rule of the Law of Moses. He understood their traditions. He celebrated the Passover and the harvest feasts. The metaphorical symbolism of their holy days was as natural to him as drinking water from Jerusalem’s ghion spring. Shepherds herding sheep were a common sight. Listening to temple priests reading the law from the steps of the temple was required religious education. He likely heard the shofar horns at the temple and knew the aroma of frankincense sold in the market. He'd felt the dry heat of a Jerusalem summer and the taste of oil olive cultivated and pressed in the surrounding vineyards. All of this was part of the learning of the Jews. And from those experiences he understood the metaphors and poetry of Isaiah. It isn't surprising that Nephi insisted that an intimate knowledge of all things Jewish was necessary to understand the writings of Isaiah (2 Nephi 25:5). He'd seen with his own eyes the things of the Jews. He understood the writings of the prophets in a way his Meso American children, unfamiliar with Jewish culture, could not. It was a carefull balancing act. Nephi wanted his children to understand Isaiah, but he was careful to hold back cultural knowledge he believed had the potential to introduce the sins that contributed to the destruction of the Jews. Nephi understood the need for cultural awareness in order to fully understand the writings of the prophets in the same way that Meso American linguist Sir Eric Thompson understood how best to interpret Mayan writings. According to Thompson the reader, "had to have a good background in mythology and folklore to understand the texts."

A number of Hebrew linguistic patterns have been identified in the translation of the Book of Mormon text including the transliteration (the preservation of pronunciation of a word during translation) of Book of Mormon names from their original form into English. Mayan linguist Dr. David H. Kelley of the University of Calgary believes he's identified the first Hebrew words adopted into the Mayan dialect and preserved in the names of three of the twenty days making up a Mayan month. One of the day names on the Mayan calendar is k, pronounced k-eh, which means hand. The Mayan glyph used to communicate the name is the picture of a hand and it corresponds to the Hebrew letter k pronounced kaph which also means hand in Hebrew. The very next letter in the Hebrew alphabet is lamed and the next day on the Mayan calendar is lamat. The Mayan day immediately following lamat is mulu which means water and the next letter in the Hebrew alphabet after lamed just happens to be mem which also means water. It is a sequence of three Mayan days which correspond to three sequential letters in the Hebrew alphabet.

Despite this evidence and other influences of ancient Hebrew words and grammar on the Mayan language, there continues to be no evidence of Egyptian in any Mayan word or linguistic pattern. Or is there? Nephi thought in the conceptual framework of an Israelite from an authentically Jewish culture. He normally spoke and wrote in Hebrew and there is little doubt that he kept his records, at least conceptually, in Hebrew. So what did Nephi mean when he said he wrote his record in the language of the Egyptians? Centuries later Moroni essentially reaffirmed Nephi's statement when he wrote that, "we have written this record according to our knowledge, in the characters which are called among us the reformed Egyptian, being handed down and altered by us, according to our manner of speech" (Mormon 9:32). It seems rather confusing unless you understand exactly what was meant by the Language of the Egyptians. Its a complex puzzle that researchers are finally unraveling and a more complete mosaic authentically places the Book of Mormon into its ancient New World setting.

Join us next week for Part II of this series, the Language of Nephi, when we take a closer look at the Language of the Egyptians and how it may have influenced Mayan writing like the glyphs you see pictured above which had their beginnings around 550 BC near the likely location of the City of Nephi. Today the ruins, burried underground and pictured to the right (click to enlarge), are known as Kaminal Juyu and the language that disseminated from this location was the civilizing force that catapulted Mayan culture into the most advanced civilization of the ancient New World. Is it possible that the Language of Nephi influenced the only ancient American culture betwen Alaska and Tierra Del Fuego to develop a written language? Join us for our next weekly logographic post as we decipher the Language of Nephi.

__________________________
Join author David G. Woolley at his Promised Land Website.

God Bless President Obama

2009-01-21T07:00:00.010-07:00

by David G. Woolley

I didn't vote for President Obama. And if the election were held again today I wouldn't vote for him. But I happily, and with all my heart say, "God bless President Obama."

I disagree fundamentally with President Obama's social and economic agenda. Printing billions of yen on a printing press and flooding the economy with those yen did absolutely nothing for the Japanese economy. It was a decade of failed government bail out philosophy aimed at turning the tide on terrible recession.

It will do nothing for the United States.

I am no fan of government regulation, but despite that conservative view, I favor changing the rules on banking and bringing the entire global economy under stiffer regulation including hedge funds which are in the category of too-big-to-fail. That's where Obama should focus his economic recovery efforts: changing the monetary policy of not just the US but of countries across the world with an emphasis on not allowing any financial institution to become too big to fail and prohibiting financial institutions from taking risks too large for their balance sheets to cover.

I am concerned that President Obama will cripple the free flow of ideas, money, and entrepreneurship across state and national borders, in favor of taking steps towards monolithically slow, cumbersome, unwilling-to-change government-run institutions in not only the financial sectors, but other industries as well. I fear we will wake up one morning and say, "Woe is me, they have taken away our innovation, our creative ideas, and our economic freedom and left us with a society of waiters.” Waiting in line for everything from milk to money.

I wish President Obama would put aside ideology in favor of the economy. He has asked conservatives to give on government regulation issues as they pertain to financial institutions, but he has not asked Liberals to satiate their appetite for government intervention and spending when it clearly is not the answer and has proven time and time again to do nothing but ease our pain in the near term while prolonging the suffering over the longer term.

President Obama is clearly not willing to give up the liberal spending ideas, but he is asking conservatives to back off on government regulation.

I didn't like then candidate Obama’s economic approach in July. I was more concerned about it in October. I do not support President Obama’s economic plan in January.

That's why I wouldn't vote for him if the election were held today.

And then there are all those nasty, emotion-packed, social agenda issues that tell us much more about a person’s private morality than they ever have power to socially engineer our country toward some sort of conservative or liberal utopia. I don't agree with nearly all, if not all, of Obama's social agenda. I think it stinks.

That said, I can honestly, and with all the hope in my heart ask God to bless President Obama. No matter what your political persuasion, you can only hope that he will have the humility to hear the wisdom echoing down through the centuries from inspired founders and have the desire to be, like them, inspired of God and follow the divinely revealed lead in the unchanging principles enshrined in our constitution—something the news media decried in George Bush, but may laud in President Barack Obama.

So I say again, God bless President Obama.

__________________________
Join author David G. Woolley at his Promised Land Website.

My Rocket Scientist Friend

2009-01-15T07:00:00.017-07:00

by David G. Woolley
My friend, Scott, happens to be a rocket scientist. Everyone should be so lucky to have at least one rocket scientist friend. The guy is a genius. And his four sons are little geniuses in waiting. Just ask his wife Diana. Or the grandparents.

After chasing a Ph.D. all over the country Scott settled down at ULA. I don't know what that means exactly. It has something to do with rockets, terrorists, the CIA, and home teaching. This week he sent out an announcement about a rocket launch. Lucky for me I haven't been banned from his family email group. Yet.

It went something like this:

For those who are interested, a Delta IV Heavy rocket (our biggest rocket and the one that I work on) will be launching from Cape Canaveral tomorrow (Jan 13) evening at around 7:49 pm EST. Our boys enjoyed watching the last ULA rocket launch, so I thought I would pass along this info in case your kids (or possibly even you) might be interested. This rocket will be launching a National Reconnaissance Office satellite in support of the military's national defense mission. In other words, this satellite will be taking pictures of you as you mow your lawn in your back yard, as well as pictures of Osama Bin Laden building nuclear weapons in Afghanistan.

Didn't I tell you this guy is brilliant? But he's this average Joe like, well, me, except that I'm not bald and my emails lack any evidence of formal schooling. So its pretty hard to believe that he actually does what he claims he does. I responded to his email with this:

Cool photos Scott. Where did you get the real-life looking flames and the menacing background sky? Does it come with the kit? The ones at wal-mart do. I'll bet you and the boys have a lot of fun chasing it down after the parachute opens.

I hope you're not like some of the nut cases I run into here. These wanna-be brainiacs show up at the park with their I'm-so-cool rocket launchers while the rest of us are trying to enjoy the park. Don't they know its not safe? I chased one self proclaimed rocket scientist right back to the parking lot. He was launching like five ULA IV Heavy Rockets right in the middle of the play ground. Can you believe that? What a jerk.

Instead of replying with some of his infamous wit, or a dash of sarcasm he sends a methodical, calculated, emotionless, detached, hum-drum, almost aloof, but all too expected rocket scientist email like this:

Unfortunately, the launch has been postponed. The new launch window is Thursday, Jan 15, 7:41-11:41 pm EST. Prior to filling the rocket tanks with liquid hydrogen and oxygen, the tanks are purged with gaseous nitrogen, because the extremely cold temperature of the liquid propellants would cause the water in the air to condense. A gaseous nitrogen relief valve was not working properly, necessitating the delay of the launch so the valve could be fixed.

This is the first time in the 17 launches we've had since I joined ULA that the launch has been delayed on the day it was scheduled. It, of course, had to happen the one time that I email family about the launch. Sorry about the delays.

That was it. A memo-like response. No self depreciating rocket scientist humor. So I fired this email off without considering any of the consequences:

I don't mean to burst Scott's fantasy rocket scientist bubble, but here's a quick glossary of terms and phrases that may help you understand his recent launch emails:

1. Launch has been postponed.

Translation: Diana (Scott's wife) made me and the boys stay inside and clean our rooms

2. New Launch Window.

Translation: We tried sneaking out the backdoor.

3. Purge tanks with gaseous nitrogen.

Translation: Before we sneaked out the back door I made the boys use the bathroom.

4. Cold temperature of liquid propellants causes the water in the air to condense.

Translation: Spray Lysol when finished purging.

5. Necessitating a launch delay to fix the valve.

Translation: Where is that plunger?

6. The first time in 17 launches since I joined ULA that a launch has been delayed.

Translation: We got busted going out the backdoor.

7. It happened the one time I emailed my family.

Translation: Mom and Dad, can you please have a talk with my wife?

There you have it. The complete guide to understanding emails from a self proclaimed rocket scientist. Lets hope that rocket launches today or this could get ugly.

So what are the rest of you doing these days? Not that I would twist your words or your world around or anything.

Just curious.

__________________________
Join author David G. Woolley at his Promised Land Website.

TOTM Celebrates New Year at Disney Land

2009-01-01T07:00:00.010-07:00

Editor's Note: Mickey Mouse and executives at Disney were so excited about the completion of our first year of publication at Top of the Morning they've dedicated the entire 2009 New Year to the TOTM Blog featuring informative, entertaining and uplifting commentary and opinion with special installments dedicated to the fascinating history, archeology, and Book of Mormon writings that inspired the publication of four works in the Promised Land historical fiction series and continues to inspire the writing of four more. Author David Woolley and the TOTM staff were left without words.

View this video and you'll understand why we're speechless. If you look closely you can find David G. Woolley in the video clip over the left shoulder of the announcer. He's wearing sunglasses and his patented under cover gray t-shirt. Did you find him? What an honor for all of us at TOTM to be part of the Disney celebration. Its our first and happiest new year so far.

To each and everyone of our TOTM readers we wish you the happiest of New Years in 2009. Join us for twelve months of uplifting posts we hope will lighten your load, lengthen your stride, and make walking the narrow path a little more enjoyable. Thanks for the company.

Happy New Year everyone.

Merry Christmas

2008-12-24T23:07:00.015-07:00

After all the Christmas Eve meal preparations were finished and right before enjoying a wonderful evening holiday feast I bit my tongue. Not just a little. Clean through. Ouch! Sometime in the next few days I will swallow again and end this pain-induced fast.

I don't recommend tongue surgery as an annual Christmas Eve tradition to move the focus off all that (healthy) food and think about the blessings that come from the birth of Jesus Christ, Savior of the World, but it worked for me. May you have a wonderful and joyous Christmas.

We're on holiday at the Top of the Morning if you hadn't noticed. Until the New Year when we plan to release a number of posts dedicated to a happy 2009, all of us here at TOTM wish you and yours the very best and a warning during this festive holiday banquet season.

Chew with care.

__________________________
Join author David G. Woolley at his Promised Land Website.

Birth of a Christmas Carol

2008-12-15T07:00:00.010-07:00

by David G. Woolley

—London, December 13th, 1837
The first day of Christmas

“I have a debt to pay.”

I untied my scarf, unbuttoned my winter coat and quietly voiced my request without letting the anger at my present financial troubles boil over in the presence of my editing partner, Jacob Marley, or any of the typesetters and inkers in the printing office of Bentley Publishing House, home of the weekly London Dispatch. Marley would consider shameful the pecuniary details of so much lavish entertaining. Months of parties for London’s privileged did not fall within his monetary rules governing wise social investment feted as my guests were with Cornish lamb, Liverpool hams, London roasted chestnuts, imported French wines, fancy biscuits, coach and driver, riverboat dancing on the Thames, perfumes for the ladies, and hats for the gentlemen. It was an imprudent debt without the guarantee of a shilling in return.

I said, “I’ve come up short.”

“And a Merry Christmas to you as well, Charles.” Marley raised an eyebrow of certain disdain over my social expenses and my disregard for his holiday cheer.

“I’ll have none of your nonsense this winter morning. Entertaining is good for business. They buy what we print.”

“For two shillings? That’s hardly a sound investment.”

“What am I to do? I have no means to cover this encumbrance.”

“You’re a serialist at this newspaper. An editor in this house, no less.” Marley lowered his pen and stepped away from his writing table. “You have what? Three novels to your credit and—

“Two, Jacob. Oliver Twist didn’t do nearly as well as Pickwick Papers.”

“Balderdash. They were both a smashing success. Neither has gone out of print and I doubt they ever will, sir. Have you nothing to show for it?”

I shook my head, unable to bear the sound of my own voice attesting to such folly. What had I done? I leaned in closer. “My creditors have turned the debt over. Will you have me end up like my father?”

John Dickens, my father, a well-paid clerk in the Navy Pay Office disposed to entertaining nobles and elites well beyond his means, was jailed at Marshalsea Debtors Prison with my mother and seven siblings while I at twelve years was removed from private studies at William Giles School in Chatham and sent to labor for my family’s freedom at Blacking Warehouse on old Hungerford Stairs. It was a crazy, tumble-down old house abutting the river. Its wainscoted rooms, rotten floors, broken-down staircase, the dirt and decay of the place, and the old gray rats swarming down in the cellars, and the sound of their squeaking and scuffling coming up the stairs at all times, rise up visibly before me, as if I were there again. My work was to cover the pots of paste-blacking shoe polish and tie them round with a string.

“Ball and chain, Charles.”

What an odd thing for Marley to say. “They don’t use those anymore.”

“Each iron link welded on the counting tables of greed.” Jacob circled round me, like a ghost at haunting. He grinned. He said, “Lashed to the borrower’s ankle.”

“You mock my monetary pain with far too much glee, sir.”

“The burden of your deeds you carry about like a ball and chain with only the fragile hope of salvation laid upon the mercies of a merciless creditor who—

“Thank you fondly for your fiscal cheer.”

I closed the door to the front office, shutting out the pungent smell of ink from the press and the thought of Blacking Warehouse of former years. The memory of childhood should be a pleasant recollection, devoid of the past ghosts of my father’s debts, the present spirit of Jacob Marley circling about me, and the future phantom of my own recklessness certain to visit my due upon me, all of which rise up to haunt my soul like the present smell of printers ink and the memory of paste-blacking.

I said, “I need an advance. I’m good for the balance. Nicholas Nickleby is scheduled for typesetting first thing after Christmas.”

“When have we ever…?”

“Never. But I had hoped you would consider it."

“Write me some hope. I’ll see that it’s printed in the midweek run of the Dispatch before Christmas and you’ll have your advance.”

“Who reads of Christmas spirit any longer? The traditions are dying out. It’s a lamentable waning, but trust me, sir, it will not sell. I know a good story.”

“You’re a Scrooge, Charles.”

Scrooge? What a strange name to call a friend.

“Come now, tell me you haven’t wondered at the accountant who works in the third floor counting room,” Marley said in answer to my quizzical stare. “The man pinches every shilling. One piece of coal for the fire every third hour, no matter how cold. He hasn’t time to comment on the weather or bid any good day. He’s far too busy counting money.”

“So it is with the whole of London. There is something of Scrooge in each of us these days.”

I reminded Marley of the poet Thomas Hood’s commentary in the Sunday Times this week past, wherein the renowned poet argued that Christmas, with its ancient and hospitable customs, its social and charitable observances, were all in decay.

Marley said, “You see only what you want to see, Charles.”

He went off, bemoaning my predisposition to indifference and reciting his reading of the Times, quoting the famous poet who, Sunday last, rightly so had asked, if all London had forgotten the babe born at Bethlehem who had borne our grief and carried our sorrow. Was there no interest among Londoners in honoring the birth of Him who was bruised for our iniquities? Had noble and commoner alike forgotten we were healed with His stripes? Was there no hope for redeeming the winter holiday?

Marley said, “There is hope.”

“Humbug, Marley. The poet said nothing less than that Christmas is in decay. HIs words underscore the inevitable loss of a venerable tradition.”

"Peace is hardly a tradition." Marley didn't offer a further word of retort beyond his quiet comment and in the awkward, seemingly defeated silence, and me far too willing to jump on the moment and drive my point home, "There is no peace on earth," I said. "For hate is strong and mocks the song, of peace on earth good will toward men."

"That is the nightmare within the Christmas carol." Marley voiced his reply in ghostly quiet words. “As nightmarish as was your Christmas passed at Blacking Warehouse down by the river.”

“Please, Marley. Must you dredge that up?” I laid my coat over my arm, fitted myself into the angle of Marley’s writing chair, and set my boots upon the hardwood table top, which, on a twist of irony, were in terrible need of blacking-paste and a good going over with a polishing cloth. “It is a most horrible ghost story of a past I am loathe to recall.”

“You escaped your nightmare.”

“Only for the kindness of an aunt who with an inheritance reached out from a silent grave and paid my father’s debt, redeemed us from our terrible state, and won for me release from that dreadful place. And I beg of you, as a friend these many years, to never take my mind back there.”

“I would wager that the poet Hood's words are not the first time you've been transported back, Charles.”

“He penned not a word of shoe polish.”

“Blacking paste or no blacking paste, at least in Hood there is one author in London who hopes to save the waning holiday before we celebrate our last.”

“You can’t save society from itself, Jacob. If they are done with Christmas, then they are done with it. Only an act of God could divert the Thames from running its natural course.”

"The act of God is already done." Marley found a well-worn copy of the Holy Bible on his reading shelf. “The debt is paid, my good debtor friend.” He leafed through to Isaiah the fifty-second chapter, third verse where the ancient penned that we have sold ourselves for naught and yet we shall be redeemed without money.

Marley said, “Write me a story of Christmas hope without keenness for money and you’ll have your miracle of Christmas spirit for yourself and for the whole of London.”

I leaned back in Marley’s chair. There was a story in this debt of mine that brought me to Marley’s office this morning and to my senses. And there was a story in the debt my aunt paid those many years ago, doing for my father and my family what we could not do for ourselves, redeeming me from the hell of Blacking Warehouse. Are not we all debtors? Is it not the Christmas spirit that honors the birth of Him who paid our debt?

Still I said, “Marley, a story of hope is hardly good business in this, the dawning day of the cynic.”

Marley placed a counseling hand on my shoulder. He said, “Mankind should be our business.”

I thought to leave Marley to his work, but he unrelentingly followed me in silence past the press, round the stacks of typesetting bits and hammers, through the anteroom and to the front doors of Bentley House. I said, “Could you be so good as to hold the Dispatch until Christmas Eve?”

Marley opened the door and wished me well, but in a manner all but lacking of his usual Christmas cheer. He said, "What reason have we to hold the press twelve days?”

“A ghost story.” I winked and laughed a merry laugh, then tied my scarf and buttoned my coat. And before heading out into the wintry London snow I said, “A Christmas ghost story.”

Copyright December 2008 ©. Thou shalt not copy, paste, or digitally transmit this story for any purpose without the express written permission of the author.

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Historical Notes

Prior to writing A Christmas Carol, which was originally titled A Christmas Carol in Prose, Being a Ghost Story of Christmas, Charles Dickens was saddled with debt. Despite his successful publication and subsequent sale of Oliver Twist and Pickwick Papers as well as many well-received serialized stories in London newspapers under the pen name Boz for which he was renowned for endless cliffhangers, he was unable to pay the debt. It was under these indebted circumstances, with the traditions of Christmas waning terribly, that Charles Dickens set out to write his first of many Christmas tales.

When Charles Dickens was twelve years old his father was arrested and imprisoned at Marshalsea Debtors Prison. His wife, Elizabeth, and seven children joined him in prison. Charles was removed from private school at William Giles at Chatham and sent to work to pay off the debt at Blacking Warehouse on old Hungerford Stair overlooking the river. Of his time at Blacking Warehouse Dickens wrote:

The blacking-warehouse was the last house on the left-hand side of the way, at old Hungerford Stairs. It was a crazy, tumble-down old house, abutting of course on the river, and literally overrun with rats. The counting-house was on the first floor, looking over the coal-barges and the river. There was a recess in it, in which I was to sit and work. My work was to cover the pots of paste-blacking; first with a piece of oil-paper, and then with a piece of blue paper; to tie them round with a string; and then to clip the paper close and neat, all round, until it looked as smart as a pot of ointment from an apothecary's shop.

The poet Thomas Hood, after reading Dicken’s work, A Christmas Carol in Prose, wrote: “If Christmas, with its ancient and hospitable customs, its social and charitable observances, were in danger of decay, this is the book that would give them a new lease.”

Author's Note: This short story is dedicated to my family and friends who have shared with me, in abundant measure, the spirit of Christmas. May you each enjoy a Merry Christmas and may the Spirit of the season remain with you throughout the year.

__________________________
Join author David G. Woolley at his Promised Land Website.

Birth of a Christmas Carol

2008-12-11T15:46:00.007-07:00

*Editor's Note: The Top of the Morning staff would like to apologize for the unanticipated week-long silence. Author David G. Woolley took a rather serious tumble last weekend and we've been awaiting the recovery of his head.

All is well and we're pleased to announce that the fall knocked some sense into him along with an idea for a historical fiction short story titled Birth of a Christmas Carol.

Join us this weekend when author David G. Woolley shares his Christmas short story with Top of the Morning readers.

Merry Christmas to all.

TOTM Top 10 Movies?

2008-12-04T07:00:00.009-07:00

Editor's Note: Before the Top of the Morning staff begins releasing our top ten movies, we want to make sure we haven't missed any. So tell us TOTM readers, what movies do you think should be on our list? You can nominate LDS movies here. We have one we think is deserving, but we'll be sponsoring a top ten LDS movies list in the near future so you may want to limit your LDS suggestions to your favorite pick.

The big screen Dolby Digital City clip above makes you feel like you're hunkering down for a great show. So pop some corn (without butter and some sea salt of course) and tell us what movies you think should be on our list. What movies bring you to your feet in the comfort of your own home?

TOTM Top 10 Movies: Seabiscuit (#5)

2008-12-02T07:00:00.010-07:00

Editor's Note: The Top of the Morning (TOTM) staff is pleased to bring you one of our top ten movie clips from our TOTM list of movies that inspire, movies that ennoble, and movies that bring you to your feet in the comfort of your own home.

Today's movie pick is Seabiscuit (#5), a depression era movie that follows the lives of three down and out men, an abandoned teen jockey, a cowboy whose wild west frontier disappeared in the wake of the industrial revolution and a millionaire car dealer who lost part of his fortune and all of his family. When they find Seabiscuit, a washed up race horse, and turn the thoroughbred into a champion their passion for racing brings them together and changes the lives of all three.

Please enjoy this three minute theatrical trailer which also includes one of our top ten movie lines of all time (#3). We think its one of the best lines that captures the idea of Christ's atonement for all of God's children:

"You don't throw a whole life away, just 'cause its banged up little."

Tom Smith (Chris Cooper)
Horse Trainer

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Join author David G. Woolley at his Promised Land Website.

Don't Fake It

2008-12-01T07:00:00.031-07:00

by David G. Woolley

Editor's note: This post continues a Word of Wisdom look at the food we eat. With the holiday season upon us, what better time for a gut check? Today its artificial sweeteners.

She was a soccer mom and a dental hygienist. For the sake of privacy let's call her Sandy. An exercise nut. She maintained a vigorous weekly routine. Three days at the gym with her husband, Brad. On the off days she biked, walked or jogged. She had four handsome sons. All athletic. Physical activity was part of their lives so it was a shock to everyone when Brad got a call from Sandy's dental office. Her hands were numb. She couldn't feel her left arm. And when she went to take a break she walked into a wall. She was losing motor control quickly and could Brad come over to the office ASAP?

Sandy took some vacation time to deal with the symptoms. She saw a few doctors and took a battery of tests. A general practitioner. A neurologist. A psychiatrist. An internist. The tests were negative. No one knew what caused her symptoms. The numbness. The pain in her muscles. The inability to control her fingers. The tripping over curbs. The poor mobility. The falling down. The frustration. Some of the symptoms indicated multiple sclerosis (MS) and none of the doctors wanted to scare her with a prognosis of early stage Parkinson's Disease. They settled on a diagnosis of inconclusive and asked her to consider spending $60,000 plus for a month of testing in a neurosurgeon's office. That's when they called and asked me what I thought.

I said, "So Sandy, what's your diet like?"

She said, "The usual. You know, what everyone eats. Normal food. We eat out of a can a lot."

Turns out the usual included a lot of processed foods and junk food. Not a lot of fresh fruits or vegetables. And then there was this culprit:

I said, "Do you drink any diet sodas?"

She said, "I love Diet Coke." She had one nearly every day.

Sandy's symptoms were like millions of others who consume artificial sweeteners. They go after the nervous system. Destroy the myelin sheath around the neurons, essentially rendering them useless. Aspartame (NutraSweet, Equal, Canderel, Spoonfuls, DiabetiSweet). Saccharin (Sweet'N Low, SugarTwin). Acesulfame K (Sunett, Sweet One). Sucralose (Splenda). They've been accused of carcinogenic bad deeds, but the link to cancer is inconclusive (there's that word again).

What isn't so inconclusive is their association with MS-like symptoms, Alzheimer’s, Parkinson's Disease, ADHD, Depression, and the list of neurologic disorders grows longer every year. Millions are affected, but little is done because the law requires food additives be physiologically inert. Once artificial sweeteners got the coveted inert status, the FDA relinquished oversight. They made the GRAS list (generally regarded as safe) and are now considered by government authorities as harmless as flour, raisins or cinnamon. The history of FDA approval of aspartame is an education in food additive law. Its also a wake up call to carefully monitor the processed foods you eat.

I'm not much of a conspiracy theorist. It makes great fiction and terrific movies but often bad science. The data is usually inconclusive (once again). Conspiracies are harder to nail down in real life. Aren't people generally concerned about the health and welfare of others over, say, profit? Likely not when there's piles of money at stake. Take a look at this Fox News report on FDA approval of aspartame and see if you don't agree that some food additives, if not most, qualify as a consequence of evils and designs which do and will exist in the hearts of conspiring men in the last days (Doctrine & Covenants 89:4):

I said, "So Sandy. Why don't you let me take you and Brad to the grocery store. A few changes to your diet and we can get this under control."

The next day I got a call. Sandy decided to go with the neurosurgeon's office. I couldn't blame her. She was scared. Things weren't getting better.

After thirty days and a $60,000.00 medical tab I got another call. The doctors still didn't have a diagnosis and no recommendations for treatment. The symptoms were getting worse. They were ready for a trip to the grocery store.

We spent a hundred dollars and then went to their home and cooked up all sorts of recipes. She had to re-learn how to prepare meals without all those processed foods. I threw out her supply of Diet Coke and Sandy promised to stay away from it.

Within one week the numbness was gone. In two weeks her balance and motor control returned. The headaches disappeared. The fatigue gone. The pain was out of her life. She went back to work and five years later, she's still happy, healthy and symptom free. She's also a much healthier eater. Not too many desserts. Few processed foods. No Diet anything.

Aspartame is the most widely used artificial sweetener. It’s that chain of elements floating in the glass featured in the photo above. A synthetic compound made up of Phenylalanine and Aspartic Acid held in a chemical bond by Methanol (its that lower left hand branch of the chemical chain in the photo), which breaks down into Formic Acid, Formaldehyde and Diketopiperazine (DKP). It's the DKP that’s associated with brain tumors.

Aspartame breaks down more quickly with heat so the risk is higher in hot drinks like hot chocolate or in soda that has likely been out in the sun at some point in its journey to your fridge, the vending machine or the convenience store cooler. If you've ever tasted a diet drink that didn't taste sweet the aspartame has broken down into one of these three neurotoxins (nerve poisons).

Aspartame toxicity produces all sorts of nasty symptoms like migraines, depression, seizures, attention deficit disorder, angry rages, joint pain, muscle spasm, even obesity by signaling to your brain to expect carbohydrates that never reach the stomach. So what does your body do? It sounds the hunger alarm and you experience some pretty powerful food cravings. Its hard to resist over-eating when you think you're responding to a natural, God-given urge to eat. In the case of aspartame there's nothing God-given. Its all fake. Aspartame also mimics diseases like MS, chronic fatigue syndrome, Parkinson's Disease, and fibromyalgia. Migraines may appear quickly in some people, while in others there may be no symptoms for some time. Biochemical individuality plays a role in how quickly and severely you're affected.

If you or someone you care about has any of these symptoms, get rid of aspartame in their diet. I did that for my parents. I wish I'd done it much sooner. My dear sweet mother is a Parkinson's Disease sufferer or at least the symptoms mimic the disease. The doctors aren't certain. They treat her with medication prescribed for Parkinson's Disease. Some days she can hardly shuffle along. The disease cripples and twists her body. The frustration is palpable. The futility terrible. The hopelessness almost unbearable.

I wonder if she could have avoided the loss of mobility, the numbness, or the on again off again paralysis that twists her left foot under and pulls her head down if we'd only been more proactive many years ago. In Sandy's case we removed the cause and reversed the damage before it was permanent. My mother wasn't so lucky. The doctors tell us there's no treatment. The tests remain inconclusive. Sound familiar?

If I appear somewhat passionate about your health, maybe even a little over the top, I'm not. Listening to the council of the Lord when he advises us to avoid a lot of the unhealthy additives in processed foods and enjoy the fruit of the vine in order to enjoy good health just makes sense. There's no doubt Satan wants to limit your free agency. That's His plan. Its been that way since before the foundation of the world. And what could be more limiting to your free agency than loss of nervous system control? There's nothing inconclusive about that.

May your holiday eating be filled with healthy foods. And if you're considering having a little something sweet, which I don’t recommend unless its a Christmas orange, at least do the smart thing.

Don't fake it!

__________________________
Join author David G. Woolley at his Promised Land Website.

The Tenth Leper

2008-11-30T07:00:00.002-07:00

by David G. Woolley
Editor's Note: This post originally appeared in September, but given this weekend of Thanksgiving it seemed, at least to the Top of the Morning Staff, a good replay for the holiday break. Happy Thanksgiving everyone.

Gratitude. The expression of thanks. Do it and you become a little more like a child. Submissive. Humble. Full of love. You also risk becomimg a beggar. That's right. Say thank you and you place yourself metaphorically below the giver. Less in control. Less the decision maker. Less important. Less status. Weak. And in a world that preys on weakness, does anyone really want to say thank you too often?

When Jesus entered a certain village, ten lepers stood afar off. Ostracized by their neighbors. Not permitted to associate with friends or neighbors. It was an unfair circumstance that led to their exile. A small rod-shaped bacteria, invisible to the eye, infected their hands, feet, nose and mouth. Red lesions appeared first, dark around the edges and pale in the center. The loss of feeling followed. And without sensory perception many of these ten men suffered injury to their faces and disfigurement to their feet. The disease crippled their hands. Some may have lost fingers. And without proper care, bleeding was common, gangrene almost certain.

Leprosy was the most dreaded disease of their time with no cure and little hope to return to the life they were forced to abandon. In a few shorts years after contracting the disease they lost their jobs. Their status in the community. Their friends. Their family. Their entire lives. Is it any wonder that they "lifted up their voices, and said, Jesus, Master, have mercy on us?" They were told to present themselves to the priest for a medical examination (Luke 17:12-13).

In the James Christensen painting above, the artist captures the healing moment. The self-examination. The return of feeling to the mouth and nose. The disfigurement melting away. The lesions gone. Their pace quickened and the flowing robes swirled around their no-longer-hobbled feet. It was a moment of joy. A new lease on life. A miracle. And it came to pass, that, as they went, they were cleansed (Luke 17:14). All that they'd lost was returned. Their health. Their wealth. Their family. Their friends. In a few shorts words the most dreaded disease of their time was healed. Go ahead and click on the painting to enlarge it and see their elation at being made whole.

Healing. It's one of the inspired legacies of Christ's ministry. It's also a metaphor for atonement. In this video clip titled His Hands, there are scenes from the earthly ministry of Jesus healing the lame, the sick, the afflicted. Jesus did for the ten lepers what they could not do for themselves. All were healed, but only one returned to give thanks. He was the tenth leper. The priest could wait. There would be time for a medical examination later.

And one of them, when he saw that he was healed, turned back, and with a loud voice glorified God, and fell down on his face at [Christ's] feet, giving him thanks.(Luke 17: 15-17) Like all of us, he was a beggar, the one asking for the merciful healing of atonement only Christ can give. And, in the eternal after math of this life, are we not all beggars? (Mosiah 4) Don't we hope for Christ to do for us what we can not do for ourselves? To make us whole?

There were not found any of the lepers that returned to give glory to God, save one stranger. And Jesus said unto him, Arise, go thy way: thy faith hath made thee whole (Luke 17:18-19).

Gratitude. It's the beggar's faith in Christ that makes us whole.

__________________________
Join author David G. Woolley at his Promised Land Website.

Welcome Aboard Bonnie

2008-11-23T07:00:00.016-07:00

Editor's Note: The Top of the Morning Staff (TOTM) is pleased to welcome its newest editorial member, Bonnie Arbon. During the interview process she told us that her experience in editing has prepared her for the singular task of making the rest of us look good. We're not certain if that's within the realm of possibility, but we here at the Top of the Morning appreciate the sentiment.

We also appreciate the fact that Bonnie turned down a lucrative television offer in order to join our staff. We admit we noticed the resemblance too and confused her for Tina Fey more than once. Poor grammar and spelling now has a face at TOTM. Isn't she cute?

Select a password. Enter a username. And set your permissions. Bonnie Arbon has boarded the Top of the Morning ship. Sink or swim.

We decided to share a portion of her job interview with readers so you can get to know Bonnie the same way we've gotten to know her.

TOTM: Bonnie, thanks for coming, have a seat.

Bonnie: I'll start with soup and salad. Hold the grated cheese.

TOTM: This is a blog Bonnie, not Olive Garden.

Bonnie: Gee. Everything seems so real. My family is real. Don't you just want to reach into your computer screen and give them all a kiss? *Disclaimer: TOTM is not responsible for lip marks on your screen or that soggy green pepper in your salad.

TOTM: So tell us why you think you'd make a good member of the TOTM staff?

Bonnie: I can see Russia from my front porch.

TOTM: Really? In Orem, Utah?

Bonnie: I want to progress the country and this blog.

TOTM: Progress it?

Bonnie: That's right. Progress it. You got a problem with my syntax?

TOTM: Tell us more.

Bonnie: I also do copy editing and t-shirts.

TOTM: T-shirts?

Bonnie: You know. Drill now. Arbon in 2012. Renegade.

TOTM: You mean Maverick?

Bonnie: Why does everyone think they have a right to tell me what I mean? It's not a right. Do you hear me all you media types? Duh? I know what I mean.

TOTM: Sorry.

Bonnie: I also forgive fairly quickly.

TOTM: That's good. We may need a lot of forgiveness for this and future posts.

We wanted to share the rest of the interview with TOTM readers, but Bonnie's team of lawyers from Palin, Palin and McCain contacted us and insisted that would not be in our best interests. With all these high powered petroleum people backing her what else could we do but hire Bonnie without further redress. Bonnie tried to edit that last word as red dress. Creative editing isn't the only skill she brings to the Top of the Morning staff.

She also brought a new wardrobe.

__________________________
Join author David G. Woolley at his Promised Land Website.

Mission Impossible?

2008-11-18T07:00:00.018-07:00

by David G. Woolley

Editor's Note: The Top of the Morning staff is pleased to publish this David G. Woolley post demonstrating the powerful clarifying nature of the Book of Mormon as a companion text to the Bible. As prophesied by Ezekiel, the two scriptures go hand in hand.

It seems that way, sometimes. Take the idea of perfection. Isn’t that our mission in life? Aren’t we supposed to be seeking it?

Likely not.

Perfection is an odd term. Its completely foreign to the teachings of Christ, yet there it is in the English translation of the New Testament, Matthew 5:48. In the Hebrew text the term perfect actually means complete or mature. It comes from the Hebrew word Tam or Tamim. When Christ admonished the Jews to be perfect he was likely asking them to be complete. But without the clarifying passages of the Book of Mormon account of Christ's ministry, the translators of the Bible can be forgiven for their imperfect translation.

In the Old World, instead of using himself as the example of perfection, Christ used His Father. Christ was without blemish. Sinless. Flawless. In Hebrew He is the Messiah. In Greek He is known as the Christ. In English he is the Anointed One. Anointed and set apart to become the savior of mankind. That was the major focus in Christ's mission on earth. Providing salvation for us. So why didn’t He use Himself as the living, breathing incarnation of perfection? In the English sense of the word He was perfect. In the Hebrew text He was incomplete.

When Christ delivered the Sermon on the Mount he was the only flawless man to ever walk the earth. He'd received a mortal body of flesh. He'd suffered temptation at the hands of Satan and won in perfect form. He'd healed the sick, made the lame to walk, and raised the dead. Despite all he’d accomplished his mission was unfinished. The pain and anguish of an impending atonement loomed. There was a resurrection to work out. An ascension to make. There were other sheep not of the Jerusalem fold he had yet to gather. His mission was far from over. Instead of presenting Himself as an incomplete example, He used His Father as the perfectly complete illustration, telling the Jews to, "Be ye therefore [complete] even as your father which is in heaven is [complete] (Matthew 5:48).

The term perfect is succinct. It’s to the point. The only problem is that we understand the idea in absolute terms. To English speakers the word means without flaw. Without error. No nicks. No scratches. No bumps. No imperfections. Brand new. Never used. Showroom quality. Leather seats. Fully functional GPS. All the extras hand crafted to perfection.

How impossible is that?

The whole idea of perfection denies the necessity of the atonement. What need have we of a Savior if we are without flaw? Without nicks? Without scrapes, bumps or imperfections? What good is a plan for our salvation if we've got the newest model, the leather seats, and the fully functional GPS? With all that, can't we find our own way?

And then, as if the concept of perfection couldn't get anymore blurred, we get it all mixed up with the idea of acquiring the talents of others. Talents are like manna from heaven. Nourishing. Sustaining. Filling. You can also harvest too much of a good thing. Talents were never intended to be harvested. They're a gift. Given to us to bless others. The talents we lack are not a measure of our imperfection. They're an invitation for others to serve us.

The Lord was pretty clear on the matter (D&C 46:11-33). Talents have little or possibly nothing to do with the perfection (completeness) Christ preached in the Sermon on the Mount. We were never intended to possess every talent. We are expected to bless one another with the ones we have. To some it is given to be good sacrament meeting speakers. To others it is given to believe on their words. Both wonderful talents. But in this competitive, I-want-what-you-have-world, believing on their words isn't nearly as enviable as, say, the honors of a golden toungue.

The imperfect translation of the concept of Biblical perfection is clarified in the Book of Mormon. No wonder its subtitle is Another Testament of Jesus Christ. In 3 Nephi 27:27, instead of using His Father as the example of perfection (completion), Christ counsels us to be, “Even as I am."

When Christ spoke those words the crucifixion was nearly a year old. The corresponding destruction that took place in the New World happened in the first month of the Nephite year (3 Nephi 8: 5). Christ didn't appear to the Nephites until the end of that same year when many were gathered at the temple in Bountiful discussing the events of destruction and the three days of darkness that had taken place months before (3 Nephi 10: 18-19).

During the intervening period between the delivery of the Sermon on the Mount and His appearance to the Nephites, Christ completed His mission. He completed the atonement. He completed the resurrection. He completed the ascension to His father. He likely completed other parts of His mission including visiting other sheep not of the Jerusalem fold. He’d completed all that the Father had asked of Him and he could, as he did in the sermon on the mount, encourage his hearers to be complete, "Even as I am" 3 Nephi 27:27

Christ's admonition to perfection isn't related to talents, skills, clean homes, organized households, nice cars, education, social rank, fine jewelry, great art, done laundry, good looks, thriving business, or nice things. It’s an admonition to find out the will of God for your specific purpose on earth, to read your patriarchal blessing, and to complete your mission during this earthly probation.

Like the 19 year old young men and the 21 year old young women who serve as missionaries, there are standards of worthiness that will increase capacity, invite the spirit and infuse talents with heaven-sent magnification. Being complete in the Lord includes obedience, repentance and forgiveness. Add to any mission operation the saving ordinances of the gospel and the potential for successfull completion triples. Your mission, should you choose to accept it, comes complete with the most highly sophisticated robotics ever created. A mortal body. With all the sickness, pain and joys of life that come with a divinely engineered tabernacle. IMF never had a gadget as elegant or eternal.

If you take as your mission the achievement of impossible goals, the completion of impossible tasks, or the overcoming of impossible fears, life may become just that. Impossible. Mission accomplished never included the acquiring of talents, personalities, and accomplishments of other admirable saints. Well done thou good and faithful servant has as its rejoinder: Be ye therefore complete. That's your mission.

And it’s not impossible.

__________________________
Join author David G. Woolley at his Promised Land Website.

Coming Tuesday Morning: Mission Impossible?

2008-11-17T12:15:00.007-07:00

Editor's Note: The Top of the Morning staff is pleased to invite you back Tuesday morning when we publish our latest post by author David G. Woolley titled: Mission Impossible? Its a look at Christ's admonition for each of us to complete our personal earthly mission. And be sure and read the weekend post below titled: Who's a Nephite? Do you know the answer?

Until Mission Impossible, Top of the Morning to you.

__________________________
Join author David G. Woolley at his Promised Land Website.

Who's A Nephite?

2008-11-16T07:00:00.009-07:00

Coming Soon: Who's A Nephite?

2008-11-09T21:56:00.009-07:00

Editor's Note: The Top of the Morning staff is pleased to invite you back the first of this week when we plan to post author David G. Woolley's "Who's a Nephite". Find out how ancient Nephites viewed themselves, subjects in their loosely affiliated kingdom, rivals, trading partners, enemies and their sacred and secular writings. Its a classic for any reader of the Book of Mormon.

Also coming soon to the Top of the Morning is a post titled Pinpoint, why Book of Mormon scholars are arriving at similar conclusions about Book of Mormon lands. Another fascinating post titled Atlantic Crossing is a look at the Mulekite arrival to the New World and the ancient Mesoamerican river port city of La Venta. You'll also enjoy Land Northward, Land Southward, why Lehi and his family may have re-oriented their Old World compass directions to fit their New World circumstances. A fascinating linguistic look at why Book of Mormon north may be our northwest. And one of our favorites coming off the press soon is The Outsider. Its a look at Sherem the would-be convert turned Anti-Christ and how his story may have influenced the writing of Second Nephi and the Book of Jacob.

Other not-so-Book-of-Mormonish posts include Artificial Sugar, Chicken Soup Nazi, The Zoo, Mission Impossible? and one of our sure-to-be-favorites Base-basket-flyfishing-ball, how David G. Woolley's Idaho brother-in-law saves money on sports registration fees, summer sports camps, and economizes his volunteer coaching time by combining all those sports in one. Its a home run, slam dunk, hundred pound catch of the day balancing act. One that promises to be all in the wrist. In these troubling economic times, maybe Base-basket-flyfishing-ball is perfect for the young sports enthusiast in your family.

Thanks for reading. And if you get a chance, sign up as a Top of the Morning reader. It only takes a minute to become a "follower" of this blog (see the right-hand side-bar). Its a great way to stay connected with Top of the Morning. Blogger will notify you when new posts appear here at your Book of Mormon oasis in a desert of secular blogging. A little restoration scripture. A little everyday. A little feel good. All within the click of your mouse.

Until Who's a Nephite, Top of the Morning to you.

Tomato Soup Nazi

2008-11-04T07:00:00.016-07:00

by David G. Woolley

Editor's Disclaimer: This recipe continues an on-going series of Word of Wisdom health posts where mild-mannered author David G. Woolley departs from his usual blogging and transforms into one of his many food Nazi apparitions. Today its Soup Nazi. His ranting and raving does not necessarily reflect the opinion of Top of the Morning, its owners or share holders.

Soup Nazi Note: Sandra, one of our Top of the Morning readers tried this soup. She also took photos of her attempt and featured her efforts on her cooking blog. Turns out she's a better culinary artist than our very own Top of the Morning host, David G. Woolley. After reading Tomato Soup Nazi, you may want to click over to Sandra's cooking blog right here.

Disclaimer? Where did we get this editor? Mild mannered author? Transforms into one of his many apparitions of the food Nazi? Sheesh! We hired him to write editor's notes, find misspellings, correct the grammar. No commentary. No opinion.

The Top of the Morning staff was assigned the task of posting this recipe as promised in Worse Than Beer. I told them it was outside my contract and my comfort zone. They declined. All four of them. Including our creative editor whose notes and disclaimers will appear much less frequently than before. The staff couldn't resist watching me sweat this one. So here it is. A guy recipe in all its masculine glory.

Sometimes you come across something that is nutritious, healthy and relatively easy. You're not going to find that in a can of already-to-eat-processed-to-within-an-inch-of-its-life tomato soup. Sorry Campbell's. Progresso. Krogers. In this recipe our canned tomatoes are of the non-processed variety. No salt or sugar added. Not everything in a can is totally taboo. You can go that route or throw in your fresh-from-the-garden diced ones. You choose.

Nutritious and healthy may sound the same. They're not. Nutrition is all about getting the essential vitamins and minerals you need for the millions of chemical reactions that take place in your cells every hour. Problem with nutrition is that minimum daily requirements are just that. Minimum. Don't you deserve more? Something like, say, the maximum daily requirement? Think of this soup as one step toward maxing out.

Healthy foods are full of all those enzymes no vitamin company has successfully fabricated in the lab. They're just too complex. In the lab we can isolate, say, lycopene, an important heart-healthy vitamin in tomatoes, but all those complex enzymatic compounds that encapsulate lycopene are still beyond our fabricating reach. Did you know that water is an enzyme? Sure enough. Anything that aids the chemical reactions in your body acts as an enzyme, essentially making it easier for the reaction to take place. Otherwise your body shuts down non-essential functions and transports the vital enzymes to the deficient cells.

Do you feel tired during the day? Lack energy? Fall asleep at the weirdest times even after getting a great night's sleep? Chances are you're not getting enough enzymes. Turns out your brain function isn't nearly as important as the beating of your heart. You fall asleep while your heart gets all the love. Its cellular triage. The most vital patients get the attention.

You can get all your essential nutrition from a fabricated pill, but you may be missing out on the enzymes your body needs to function at optimum levels. You may also be setting yourself up for future sickness and disease if you let your body go for too long without proper enzymatic maintenance. That's why eating healthy, nutritious foods is critical. In every seed, fruit and veggie God tucked away all the essential vitamins and carefully packaged them in complex enzymes. Its something those pill companies are ever learning to imitate but never quite able to come to a complete fabricating knowledge of the truth.

Think of this soup as a step away from the low-enzyme, poor-nutrition fast foods and processed junk foods so common in our daily diet. This recipe is written in story format. For cooks who need lists, there are none. Sorry. I don't know any other way than a little narration, a little interior dialogue, some action, some romance and a good plot. All that in a tomato soup recipe? Probably not. You'll have to wait for the Tilapia Salad recipe.

On a baking sheet empty one 14 oz. can of diced tomatoes and save back any juices. I never have more than a few spoonfuls. Is it really worth saving back three tablespoons? You can throw in more diced tomato if you like your soup deeper orange in color and more tomato flavor. Cover the tomatoes with between 1/4 cup and 1/3 cup of olive oil. Season with some pepper. Bake for 15-20 mins at 450 degrees. Its supposed to caramelize the tomatoes. Mine just get sizzling hot. Must be the altitude.

While the tomatoes are baking, cut up a whole white onion, a carrot, two garlic cloves, a celery thingy (is it called a stalk?), the saved back tomato juice along with about 8 ounces of tomato sauce and a 10 ounce can of chicken broth (I throw in 14 ounces because that's the size of the can in the pantry and I like the brothy taste, but that may be too much for your taste buds). Simmer all of this stuff in a soup pan with about 1/2 cup of olive oil and a bay leaf until the veggies are tender.

Dump the baked tomatoes and the simmered veggies into a blender and blend the snot out of em, which, translated into more feminine terms would be between 3-4 minutes on the highest setting until it has a creamy texture. If I were a blender manufacturer I'd design a snot setting one click beyond pulverize. You could also try blending this mixture until no celery threads get stuck between your teeth, but then you'd have to eat the soup before it was done and that would pretty much defeat the purpose of making it in the first place. Dumb idea. Just blend the snot out of it.

Dump everything back into your soup pan and while you let it simmer for, say 10 or 15 minutes, stir in 1/4 cup of chopped basil leaves and a cup of soy milk. The soy milk is optional. You can leave it out if you don't have any around the house. Everything else is pretty common kitchen fare.

There it is. A pretty healthy tomato soup. Its fairly fresh, but its not raw like fresh-from-the-garden cold soups. Its also fairly healthy though it doesn't max out on the high enzyme charts with all the cooking that degrades some enzymes. Add a leafy green salad (a big one) and you'll get all the enzymes you need to keep your energy levels up. This soup is a home run in every other health and nutrition category. From the tomatoes to the healthy olive oil, to the onion and celery and herbs. Its a great soup for you and your family's health.

Our family loves it. We hope you will too. If you try it and like it, let me know. If you don't like it, the soup Nazi has a word of advice: "No soup for you!"

Until the next meal or the next Book of Mormon post, whichever comes first, eat well, live well.

__________________________
Join author David G. Woolley at his Promised Land Website.

Worse Than Beer

2008-10-31T07:00:00.020-06:00

by David G. Woolley

That's what I told my four young, impressionable nephews. Hayseeds from Idaho. They were visiting during the week-long potato harvest. Like they own any farm land. For them it's a potato-fest. No school for nine days. Total Idahoan chaos.

The Idaho State Department of Education experimented with a number of names for the holiday. They tried Mashed Potato-fest first, but got complaints from the tourism division. Bad copy for ski Idaho commercials. They tried Baked potato-fest. Au gratin-fest. Fried Potato-fest. Boiled Potato-fest. None of them increased tourism. The holiday just doesn't have the same draw as, say, Germany's alcohol-imbued October-fest, though last spud harvest there was a beer problem.

When I arrived at grandma's house I found my four delinquents Nephews in the kitchen drinking high fructose corn syrup (HFCS) soda pop. You know. Sugary beverages that started the obesity revolution. Fostered the hundred-million-man diabetes march. Hardened more arteries than a double order of Outback Steakhouse Aussie Cheese Fries© with ranch dressing. Increased the spread of cancer faster than a speeding bullet. Leaped past beer consumption as the worst possible threat to word-of-wisdom health in a single bound.

I said, "Where did you get that?"

Lee (youngest nephew, the nice kid) said, "Grandma gave it to us."

"Impossible. I turned her stash over to the narcotics division."

Tanner (second to youngest nephew, the clever kid) said, "She got more because she loves us."

"That HFCS is bad, boys. Bad. Bad. Bad. Doesn't your Mother teach you better?"

Grant (oldest nephew, the smart kid) said, "She drove grandma to the grocery store."

Andy (second oldest nephew, the quiet kid) said, "Yup."

I should have stopped there and let the potato-fest take its toll. They have good oncologists, internists and heart surgeons in Idaho, don't they? But no. My sister, the mother of these irredeemable wretches, walked into the kitchen right when I said, "Look. If its a choice between drinking HFCS soda or beer, drink the beer. It’s not as bad for you." Sis let out an audible gasp. She always does that when I use her children as laboratory rodents in my psychiatry experiments.

The following Thanksgiving the Idaho extension of the family hosted the celebration. Complete with a turkey (me), sage dressing and beer. That's right. Beer at a devout Mormon family Thanksgiving dinner. Where was our Word-of-Wisdom head? We pulled into the little family cottage on the banks of the Snake River and when I walked through the front door, there, lounging on the front room floor, reclining in the lazy-boy, draped over the armrest of the couch, hunkered down under a quilt was the nice kid, the clever kid, the smart kid and the quiet kid, each with a bottle of beer. They raised their brown glass receptacles and Lee (remember the nice kid?) offered the toast. He said, “It’s not nearly as bad for you as sugary HFCS soda.”

They downed the stuff. Happy Hour Thanksgiving to all.

Have you ever noticed how hard it is to tell a beer bottle from, say, root beer? Take a look at the photo. Soda. Budweiser. Hires. Coors. Who can tell? The smoked brown bottle motif is so beer-ish. And those little wretches knew it. Last laugh goes to the hayseeds from Idaho, with a little help from sis. She drove them to the grocery store. Again. They win the payback round, but warning: my laboratory experiments have just begun.

In other warnings worthy of note, the worst nutritional period of the year begins today, Halloween, when million$ worth of diabetes-causing, cancer-promoting, heart-attack inflicting HFCS exchanges hands while parents and members of the department of Firearms, Tobacco and Narcotics stand idly by. It’s insane. It’s un-American. It’s a black day for a back alley deal condoned by less-than-scrupulously dressed goblins. And it doesn't stop until January 1st. Complete nutritional insanity. We got through potato-fest. We renounced October-fest. Can we really stomach two months of winter-fest? Its eight weeks from "hellth"!

In honor of the two month hiatus from good eating I'm posting some healthy eating suggestions. That's right. We may be swimming upstream against the holiday current at the Top of the Morning., going against the Merry Christmas grain, and resisting arrest by the PC police (Party Correct Police) to get you through to the New Year with your blood sugar levels in tact. No worries. You're worth it. There may even be a recipe in this for some of you Top of the Morning faithful. Did I just say recipe? Guys don't do recipes. Okay. So I'll have the Top of the Morning staff pass along this killer tomato soup recipe.

Check back this week for the post on artificial sugar I've been promising and a couple of other healthy thoughts between now and Thanksgiving.

Until the soups on, eat well, live well.

__________________________
Join author David G. Woolley at his Promised Land Website.

Lehi's 600 Year & Alma's 400 Year Prophecy

2008-10-27T07:00:00.033-06:00

by David G. Woolley

Editor's Note: This post continues a weekly series titled the Promised Land where author David G. Woolley sheds his bloggish sensibilities and delves into the research and inspiration behind the characters and story lines of his Book of Mormon Promised Land Historical Fiction Series. This week it's Lehi's 600 year tun prophecy, Alma's 400 year baktun prophecy, Samuel the Lamanite's 400 year baktun prophecy and the Mayan Calendar.

The start date for this Mayan calendar? 3,113 years before the birth of Christ. The end date? We're not exactly certain, but the scholarly consensus settles on the winter solstice December 21st, 2012. That's four years from now, the day ancient Mayans calculated the end date of their long count five thousand year calendar cycle. How would you react if the calendar your ancestors developed beginning around 550 BC was programmed to end its long internal count, a cycle of five thousand years, the same year a prophet of God told you that your civilization would be destroyed and your countrymen scattered? Pretty heady stuff. Ancient Nephites faced that very scenario. No wonder Book of Mormon scribes included frequent reference to their chronology.

Our modern Gregorian calendar has all sorts of subtle internal counts operating beneath the obvious day, week, and month counts that make up our solar calendar. Decade. Century. Anniversary. Millennium. Sesquicentennial. None of them appear on the calendar, but we count them and we keep track of them in our news, movies, books, celebrations and historical records. Take the year 1776, the birth of the United States. Two hundred years later in 1976 the US celebrated the bicentennial. It was a two hundred year shadow count operating beneath the days, months and years of our solar calendar beginning with a fixed point in history. The three hundred year count for the birth of the United States is celebrated in 68 years. Are you counting the days?

Remember Y2K a little over eight years ago? It marked the end point of a decade. The end of a century. The end of a millennium. Three major calendar counts ending on the same date. It raised a lot of curiosity. Were our computer systems really not programmed to process all those zeros in the year 2000? Was it possible that the US nuclear arsenal could malfunction due to some arcane programming flub? The new millennium, the end of a millennial calendar count, inspired end-of-the-world books and movies. Got people talking. Worrying. Praying. Or at least thinking about Christian, Hebrew, and even more profound, Book of Mormon end-times prophecy.

Similar curiosity-raising and sometimes prayer-inspiring calendar counts are found in ancient Mayan society. The usual suspects are obvious. Day (kin). Month (unial). Year (tun). There are others like the twenty year katun count similar to say, our decade, and the four hundred year baktun count related, due to its lenght, to our century. These calendar-related cycles may have influenced Lehi's 600 year prophecy. For six centuries Nephite chronologists made frequent reference to that inaugural Nephite event. These counts may also have been employed by Alma and Samuel the Lamanite, adding the weight of already-understood calendar counts to their 400 year prophecies. They were attention-grabbing, omen-related, and chronologically significant. The calendar counts began with significant historical events in Mesoamerican history and ended on identifiable, calculated conclusions in Mayan calendar counts, powerful enough to capture the hearts and minds of even the most hardened Nephite hearers.

Behold, I perceive that this very people, the Nephites, according to the spirit of revelation which is in me, in four hundred years from the time that Jesus Christ shall manifest himself unto them, shall dwindle in unbelief. Yea, and then shall they see wars and pestilences, yea, famines and bloodshed, even until the people of Nephi shall become extinct—

Yea, and this because they shall dwindle in unbelief and fall into the works of darkness, and lasciviousness, and all manner of iniquities; yea, I say unto you, that because they shall sin against so great light and knowledge, yea, I say unto you, that from that day, even the fourth generation shall not all pass away before this great iniquity shall come.

And when that great day cometh, behold, the time very soon cometh that those who are now, or the seed of those who are now numbered among the people of Nephi, shall no more be numbered among the people of Nephi. But whosoever remaineth, and is not destroyed in that great and dreadful day, shall be numbered among the Lamanites, and shall become like unto them, all, save it be a few who shall be called the disciples of the Lord; and them shall the Lamanites pursue even until they shall become extinct. And now, because of iniquity, this prophecy shall be fulfilled. (Alma 45: 10-14)

If you read and write ancient Mayan you'll recognize that the third concentric circle from the center (beginning with the circle around the face of the man sticking his tongue out) contains twenty word-glyphs, one for each of the days in the Mayan month. Go ahead and click on the calendar for a larger view. Beginning at the top of the third circle just left of center at about the 11:30 clock position there's an alligator glyph, the name for the first day in the Mayan month. Reading counterclockwise the translated name for the second glyph is the wind followed by house, lizard and serpent. Death, deer, rabbit, water and dog round out the first ten names of the twenty days in the Mayan month. Can you figure out the name for day number fifteen? What about my favorite Mayan day-name, number seventeen? Here's a hint.

I've always thought it funny that Book of Mormon critics claim the record inauthentic due to the mention of a dog when no such animal remains have been located in the archaeological record of ancient Mesoamerica. But here it is, the name of the tenth day in the Mayan month. Dog. Its also interesting that a 15th century catholic cleric, Padre Landa, wrote of the Mesoamerican dog that, "There is an animal which the native Mayans call chic, wonderfully active, as large as a small dog with a snout like a sucking pig". In a future post we'll discuss the Book of Mormon animal kingdom. For now let's stick with the day of the dog.

The term year has various meanings in different cultures. Even within our modern culture the definition varies. The count for a solar year is 365 days, 6 hours, 9 minutes, 9.54 seconds. Those mathematically pesky extra hours, minutes and seconds, about one fourth of a full day, are why we tack on an extra leap year day in February once every four years to keep our calendar count relatively close to the time it takes earth to travel around the sun. Dog years. That's a count for a pet that ages seven times faster than humans. One dog year is about 52 days. Logic dictates the impossibility of man's best friend circling the sun seven times every 365 days, but dog years are not a measure of solar orbits. They're a comparison, measuring the life-span relationship between a dog and its master. Dog years are a neat, mathematically simple, systematic comparative relationship between canine physical aging and human solar years. Like the US sesquicentennial and the Y2K millennium, dog years are a shadow count operating within our Gregorian calendar.

Ancient Mesoamericans, contemporaries of Lehi and his decedents, did the same thing. These ancient Mayans developed a calendar system to measure years in at least three different ways. The earliest definition the Mayans developed for a year was the Tzolkin. Thirteen months of twenty days in each month for a total of 260 days. Why two hundred and sixty days? Some scholars suggest its related to the time it takes to plant, harvest and store one growing season worth of maize. And what about the twenty days in a Mayan month? We're not exactly certain. Some scholars have suggested it was the number of toes and fingers used to count, but that marginalizes the advanced mathematics apparent in the Mayan calendar. These calendar gurus didn't stop their calculations when they ran out of fingers and toes. Twenty is an elegant number for calculations and these Mesoamerican calendar wizards were mathematicians of the highest order, playing around with dates 400 million years in the past and that many into the future.

The second Mayan definition for a year, the Tun, is a period of 360 days. Eighteen 20-day months. The Tun was the preferred year for making calendar calculations. It was a calendar of mathematical convenience. It was likely the calendar most familiar to the Mayan population. The standardized chronological instrument of Mesoamerica. It may also have been one of the approved Nephite calendars of time reckoning.

The number of days in a Tun year, 360, was a much simpler, more elegant number to divide, multiply and manipulate than was the third form of the Mayan year, the 365 day orbit-around-the-sun year known as the Haab. The Haab year consisted of eighteen 20-day months like the Tun year, but with an additional nineteenth 5-day month tacked onto the end of the year (or the beginning of the year according to some scholars). Those five extra days were considered unlucky. The Mayans didn't give them any names, but they weren't so unlucky that Mayans didn't use them to celebrate some of their most sacred feast days and offer sacrifices. During the more violent Mayan eras, human sacrifices.

The Mayans understood that the 365 day Haab year was the best count for reckoning the time required for the earth to travel around the sun. They were also very much aware how the 365-day Haab year correlated with the cycle of the moon, Saturn and Venus. Despite their astronomical awareness, the important dates in the Mayan world were tracked by the 360 day Tun year calendar system rather than the Tzolkin (260 days) or Haab (365 days) calendar counts. The Mayan Tun calendaring system uses the following day counts, month counts, year counts, double decade counts, and quadra-centennial counts in its calculations.

1 day = 1 kin
20 kin = 1 unial (a Mayan month)
360 kin = 1 tun (a Mayan year)
20 tun (7,200 days or kin) = 1 katun (chronologically significant like our decade)
20 katuns (144,00 days or kin) = 1 baktun (400 Mayan years and chronologically significant like our century)

For years scholars have obsessed over the Mayan calendar. Where did the pre-classic Mayans of 550 B.C. develop their complex mathematical understanding? Why is the Mayan calendar so similar to the Hebrew, Egyptian, and Enoch calendars? Some scholars have even suggested that the emergence of the Mayan calendar system is actually a mixing of calendar counts from different Mayan groups and the Tzolkin, Tun and Haab year counts represent pieces of three separate calendar systems. This sifting and mixing of calendars likely took place in Lehi's era and facilitated or possibly standardized the use of the Tun year calendar count by the converging populations as the accepted chronological instrument while still allowing for counts familiar to all users.

By the time the Book of Mormon account reaches the first century before Christ it is apparent that the scribes were concerned with detailed chronology. The book of Helaman, among others, is filled with chronological data. Early Nephites used Lehi's departure from Jerusalem as the beginning reference for their tracking of time. Later they adopted a secondary reference——the reign of judges over the Nephites. In the year that signs of the birth of Christ were shown to Nephites living in Mesoamerica, the Book of Mormon refers to the date using both events as calendar reference points.

Now it came to pass that the ninety and first year had passed away and it was six hundred years from the time that Lehi left Jerusalem; and it was in the year that Lachoneus was the chief judge and the governor over the land (3 Nephi 1:1).

Recent advances in Bible scholarship allows us a fair degree of certainty regarding the date King Zedekiah began his reign in Jerusalem. By interlocking the dates beginning with the end of the Middle Ages and then back through Roman Empire times, Hellenistic rulers, the Persian empire, and the records of Assyrian Kings and then correlating them to sun and moon eclipses mentioned in association with those monarchies, astronomers can anchor the entire run of time to our modern calendar. The footnote in the opening pages of the Book of Mormon indicates that Lehi left Jerusalem about 600 BC. Precise dating indicates that Nephi actually began his account with events that took place in the Hebrew year overlapping our modern calendar year of 597-596 BC. So why the discrepancy of four years? Is it significant? Likely yes when you look at both the start date for Lehi's 600 year prophecy (the first year of King Zedekiah's reign) and the end date of Lehi's prophecy (the birth of Christ).

In 500 AD the monk Dionysius was assigned the task of calculating the precise year for the birth of Christ in order to realign the calendar to make that event the meridian of time. The distinction of before Christ (BC) and after Christ (AD) were perfect designations. His calculations were not. Five hundred years after the fact and living in relative isolation Dionysius lacked enough historical data to be accurate. Today, using three data points, the Jewish King Herod’s death, the Roman taxation, and astronomical star data, most scholars have settled on the years overlapping 4 or 5 BC as the date for Christ’s birth.

Historians agree that King Herod who ruled at the time of Christ's birth died in 4 BC. The Book of Luke names a ruler in a neighboring Roman province at the time of the taxation that required Mary and Joseph to travel to Bethlehem (Luke 2: 2-3). There is also astronomical evidence to support the appearance of a new star that appeared in the skies over Bethlehem marking the location of the nativity (Matthew 2:9-10, 3 Nephi 1:21).

The Book of Mormon specifies six hundred years between the first year of the reign of Zedekiah and the birth of Christ (1 Nephi 10), while historical records allow only 593 years (the difference between 597 BC and 4 BC). If Lehi, his son Nephi and the Nephite chronologists after them were influenced by the Mayan Tun calendar system, 600 Mayan years of 360 days each explains the discrepancy between Lehi's prophecy and our modern-day calendar reckoning. If you count off 600 Mayan Tun years from the first year of Zedekiah's reign in 597-596 BC, those 216,000 days bring you into the year overlapping 5-4 BC on our modern calendar——the most likely date for Christ's birth.

Omens and prophecies were commonly phrased among the Mayans in terms of the beginning or ending of whole calendar units. Alma's prophecy fits this omen-calendar mind-set perfectly when he prophesied that the extinction of Nephite civilization would occur, "in four hundred years from the time that Jesus Christ shall manifest himself unto them (Alma 45: 10-14). The tun (day) and unial (month) were common counts. Nephites experienced them frequently during their lifetime. The katun (20 years) and the baktun (400 years) were not. Life expectancy among the Mayans was around forty plus years and a Nephite likely celebrated about two katuns from birth to death. Few lived to see the completion of a baktun. The long count would have had deep meaning for Mesoamericans and Alma likely choose his words for their impact on the hearer.

Samuel the Lamanite announced the same prophetic baktun time period when he said, "Behold, I, Samuel, a Lamanite, do speak the words of the Lord which he doth put into my heart; and behold he hath put it into my heart to say unto this people that the sword of justice hangeth over this people; and four hundred years pass not away save the sword of justice falleth upon this people (Helaman 13:5).

To a Nephite living in Mesoamerica, Alma and Samuel's prophecies were profound. They fit the mathematical phraseology of the accepted calendar of reckoning. It is significant that two Mesoamerican prophets declared the end of Nephite civilization at the end of a baktun. Significant enough to raise Nephite curiosity. Get Nephites talking with their neighbors. Get them worrying. Stand their Nephite hair on end. Maybe even get them praying about the possibility that Alma and Samuel might actually be prophets sent by God. It certainly inspired ancient Mesoamericans to write at least one book and possibly many others. No wonder Book of Mormon prophets and scribes repeated these calendar-related prophecies so often.

Lehi's six hundred Tun prophecy along with Alma and Samuel's 400 year Baktun prophecy define Nephite history in neat, mathematical terms. It is very Mayan. Very Mesoamerican. Very Nephite. It’s also very Hebrew. Israeli scholar Yehudi Radday writes that the history of Israel falls into a symmetrical pattern.

And why not? Lehi and the Nephite chronologists who followed him were merely Mesoamericans with a prophetically Hebraic view of time.

__________________________
Join author David G. Woolley at his Promised Land Website.

Bread 'n Gravy

2008-10-22T07:00:00.017-06:00

by David G. Woolley

*Editor's Note: We here at the Top of the Morning staff know we posted an economy-related post last week, but continued news on the subject inspired today's Bread 'n Gravy post by author David G. Woolley. Be sure to stop back later this week for a post titled Artificial Sugar. Its another nutrition post back by popular demand from off line requests. And also this week, Lehi's 600 Year Prophecy. Until then, Top of the Morning to you.

Its been a while. When was the last time a falling stock market, tumbling home values and a forecasted recession compelled you to be thankful? 401K losses. Eroding investments. High fuel and food costs. Funny how difficult times focus your attention on more important matters. For nearly two decades we've been so busy chasing our fortunes, we never stopped to count our blessings. Until now. Its like Boyd K. Packer said on October 12th, 2008: A wonderful time is coming. It won't be easy and it's not going to be short. Don't be afraid. A great catastrophe is coming. That's what it will take to turn our hearts to the Lord. And we will learn from it.

Cutting back the household budget? Looking for ways to save money? You're not the only one. Americans are eating out less. National grocery chain Kroger's is offering new shoppers training in a lost art: Cooking. Bloggers are blogging about their new-found cooking skills. For many Americans eating out was the norm until the recent turn of economic events sent millions looking for an alternative to Chiles, Olive Garden and our favorite here at Top of the Morning, Cafe Rio.

A recent survey of housing construction confirmed that over the past fifteen years the size of kitchen construction has shrunk over sixty percent. Why build a large kitchen when you're not going to use it? That mentality is changing. Not the construction of new kitchens. Just the need for more home-cooking space.

Americans are coming home for supper in record numbers. And they're liking it. Who knows. Bad economic times may be just what Boyd K. Packer was talking about when he called the recent downturn "wonderful".

We inherited a can-do, family values ethic from our depression era parents, grandparents and great grandparents. So if the kids are thumbing their nose at less variety in the pantry or the taste of your home cooked entrees, tell 'em to be thankful for what they've got, pass 'em the gravy and teach 'em the lyrics to this depression era Grandpa Jones song. At our house we sang it through the good times of the past two decades in remembrance of worse times. Now we sing it in memory of better times. Who knows. It may just make a comeback in the music charts. Our Top of the Morning music tracker votes Bread 'n Gravy the number one "sleeper" single of 2008.

On Monday we have bread 'n gravy
On Tuesday it's gravy 'n bread
Wednesday and Thursday it's gravy on toast
But that's nothing but gravy on bread

On Friday it's rye bread 'n gravy
Saturday whole wheat instead
But Sunday's a treat, 'cause whenever we eat
We have gravy! (so nutritious)
Gravy! (so delicious)
Gravy! Without any bread.

These are wonderful times. Enjoy the downturn and pass the gravy.

__________________________
Join author David G. Woolley at his Promised Land Website.

The Divine Speakers Circuit Inc. ©

2008-10-19T07:00:00.018-06:00

by David G. Woolley

Editor's Note: The Top of the Morning staff noted a recent post at the LDS Publisher's blog where a reader asked this question about how to become part of the LDS Speakers Circuit. Author David G. Woolley offers the following commentary. And be sure to check back soon for our featured post this week: Lehi's 600 Year Prophecy.

The Divine Speaker's Circuit Inc ©., Established April 6th, 1830.

Teaching. There are so many ways. Lectures. Classes. The most difficult of all? Example. The most typical? Speaking. Education isn't only an exercise in cultural preservation or job procurement. It’s divine. The subjects covered are wide ranging. Things in heaven. Things in the earth. Things under the earth. Things that will shortly come to pass. Things which are abroad. Things at home. Wars. The perplexities of men. Of countries and of kingdoms. Theory. Principle. Doctrine. (D&C 88: 77-79).

That's why God restored the The Divine Speakers Circuit© with the largest speaker pool on earth and more weekly engagements than any other circuit. General conference. General Relief Society meeting. General Priesthood meeting. Stake Conference. Ward Conference. Testimony meeting. Sacrament meeting. Relief Society lessons. Priesthood lessons. Sunday school. Family Home Evening. Sometimes you're the listener. Other times you're the featured speaker. No matter the venue, you're always involved in one important salvational objective: diligently teaching one another.

The professional speakers circuit is an alluring endeavor. Motivational seminars. Business conferences. Power lunches. Entertaining preaching for profit. Give a speech at BYU's Education Week and you have your reward. A moment in the spotlight. A few adoring fans. An increase in book sales. The Divine Speakers Circuit© is not nearly as glamorous a business operation. No large crowds. No devoted fans. No money. God's speaking gig was never intended to be attractive. Gospel speaking engagements offer little more than peace. Bear your testimony in Relief Society and your reward is eternal. A moment of solace in a turbulent world. A thankful neighbor. An increase measure of the spirit.

There are no eager BYU Education Week conference goers attending your Sunday school lessons. There are no appreciative Time Out For Women conference-circuit junkies listening to your testimony bearing the first Sunday of the month. There aren't many reviews written of your sacrament meeting talk. No press. No media. No advertisements. It’s just you, your family, your neighbors and the whisperings of the Holy Ghost. It’s a no-paying, low attendance, help-your-family, help-your-neighbor program. It’s also required for salvation (See D&C 68:25).

For no charge the Divine Speakers Circuit© offers well-pondered, spirit-guided sacrament meeting talks. Testimonies born of the spirit. Sunday school lessons grounded in the scriptures. Priesthood meetings evidencing personal experimentation with planting the seed of faith. Relief Society meetings that harvest the rewards of the atonement. And at no extra charge, you can have missionaries over for a power lunch of restoration proportions. The Divine Speaker's Circuit© is flourishing. Have you heard?

Speakers wanted.

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Join author David G. Woolley at his Promised Land Website.

Rain Clouds & the Honey Tree

2008-10-10T07:00:00.011-06:00

by David G. Woolley

This week's economic news reminds me of Winnie the Pooh. Really. Lovable pooh launched himself by helium balloon into the branches of the bee-infested honey tree. "I'm just a little black rain cloud," he sang, "hovering over the honey tree." He was disguised in mud to fool the industrious insects and keep from getting stung while he stole a taste of the sweet stuff. "I'm only a little black rain cloud, pay no attention to little me. Everyone knows that a rain cloud, never eats honey, no not a nip. I'm just floating around, over the ground, wondering where I will drip." If the recent economic mess has dripped some rain on your parade, this post is for you.

In the days of Jesus, soldiers in Jerusalem observed four night watches. The first began at sundown and lasted until 9pm. The second lasted until midnight. The third stretched from midnight to 3am. And the final, fourth watch, ended at sunrise. Can you hear an ancient Jewish mother telling her son to be home by the end of the first watch and the boy pleading to stay out until, at least, the middle of the second? It was comforting to have soldiers keeping vigil over the walls and gates while the city slept, enough that the four divisions of the night watch became an ancient metaphor for a very important measure--one we've discussed before here at the Top of the Morning. Timing.

In the account of Jesus saving the disciples from a storm on the Sea of Galilee, the matter of timing His coming until the fourth watch is sometimes lost on the more miraculous details of His walking on water. It was unbelievable. How could a man walk on the sea? Paul tried it and failed. The dramatic defiance of gravity confirmed that Christ had power over the earth. Combined with his other works there is little doubt he had power over all. Gravitational forces. Sickenss. Broken hearts. Tired souls. Even market forces. But it is in these six short verses in Matthew where the timing of heavenly help is defined. Patience is not only a virtue, it may be one of the defining principles governing when God will bless and comfort his children.

Jesus, with help from his disciples, had just finished feeding five thousand with a few loaves of bread and some fish. It was the end of a long day and while He was dealing with the crowd, He sent his disciples ahead of him, across the Sea of Galilee to the other side. From the sea-side mountain slopes Jesus could see the ship.

And when he had sent the multitudes away, he went up into a mountain apart to pray: and when the evening was come, he was there alone. But the ship was now in the midst of the sea, tossed with waves: for the wind was contrary (Matthew 14: 22-24).

Jesus could have come to them immediately, calmed the storm, chased away their fears. Instead he waited. He let them deal with the fear of capsizing the boat. The possibility of death. He let them decide the level of their self-interest. Were they more concerned about their personal safety or did they help others on board?

And in the fourth watch of the night Jesus went unto them, walking on the sea.
Be of good cheer; it is I; be not afraid (Matthew 14: 25 & 27).

The gospel of Jesus Christ, its ordinances, commandments, proclamations of faith, warnings, counsels and prescriptions for living are intended to teach us to love one another. It is, after all, the second great commandment. But sometimes its pretty hard to love someone who should have been watching over your savings.

Emotion. Its difficult not to let it get the best of you when the economy tanks and takes your savings, your job or your future with it. Fear. Anger. Greed. Who would have thought that an unquantifiable feeling could drive the data driven numbers of Wall Street so low? What's a hard working, thrifty, saver to do when years of hard work evaporate before your eyes? And none of it your fault. Over zealous borrowers. Greedy bankers. Unwise politicians. And you got stuck in the middle.

Like Winnie the Pooh, so many were after the honey they didn't give much of a thought about the industrious bees who made it. Pooh was just, well, possessed of a sweet tooth a lot like those out going executives at some of Wall Street's ailing investment banks. Disguise the trouble for a few months. Get your honey. Retire early. Ride the money-filled helium balloon softly to the ground while everything else goes crashing down around them. And be sure to take a shower to clean off the mud before anyone notices.

I overheard my mother this week leave a message with her Nephew. He also happens to be her financial advisor. She lives on retirement savings. She said, "Rob, just wanted to touch bases with you about what's going on with the economy. When you get a moment, would you please call be back or maybe I should just jump."

Tenuous economic times. That's another phrase for fear. We've heard a lot of those this week and things may get down right tough because of it. Ugly enough that self-reliant souls will be driven to their knees, seeking help from heaven. Food. Housing. Protection. What will become of you if you lose your job? Your self-respect? Your home?

If you do find yourself on your knees asking for some financial mercy or pleading for a heaven-sent economic relief package, don't be surprised if you get a fourth watch response. Our God is a fourth watch God. The miracle of walking on water comes after the trial of our faith. In the first, second and third watches of the night there are lessons to be learned. Will your financial boat capsize? Will you be lost in the depths of this economic sea? Will you prove to be more concerned about your own saftey than you are of others in the same boat? Like Winnie the Pooh said, "Some people care too much, I think it's called love."

In spite of loss. No matter the difficult financial times or through any matter where the help of heaven is requested. May we all be so lucky to care too much.

Until the fourth watch.

__________________________
Join author David G. Woolley at his Promised Land Website.

Vacation Plans

2008-10-06T07:00:00.004-06:00

Editor's Note: Author David G. Woolley and the Top of the Morning staff have been on a week-long pre-conference/post-Day of Remembrance planning vacation. Sadly the vactaion is over and we're back at the Top of the Morning main floor offices in the shadows of the Rocky Mountains.

If you guess correctly where this photo was taken we'll send you the CD version of Day of Remembrance. Enter your guess in the comments section of this post. Good luck. We don't think anyone will win.

Join us this week as we release some of our most anticipated posts including Lehi's 600 year prophecy, Rain Clouds & the Honey Tree, Artificial Sugar, and the Vice Presidential Debates Unplugged.

Until then, Top of the Morning to you.

__________________________
Join author David G. Woolley at his Promised Land Website.

Happy Day of Remembrance

2008-09-29T07:00:00.012-06:00

Editor's Note: Thank you for joining us over the past 8 days in a celebration leading up to today, Monday, September 29th, the Day of Remembrance--a day when around noon Mountain Time, Jews celebrate the Feast of Trumpets beginning at sundown in Jerusalem. A collection of related Day of Remembrance posts can be found by scrolling down the side bar to the section titled: Celebrating Ha Zikaron.

Today Jews celebrate the latter-day gathering of Israel and ask God to remember His covenants with Israel. David G. Woolley and the Top of the Morning staff happily proclaim that gathering began with the coming forth of the Book of Mormon on this day in 1827. Over the ensuing 181 years it has become a marvelous work and a wonder (Isaiah 29:14).

The exchange of greeting cards is one of the more recent traditions associated with this feast day and we offer this cyber-greeting card pictured above along with this short excerpt from Day of Remembrance highlighting a typical 19th century Feast of Trumpets celebration. We hope you enjoy our final Day of Remembrance celebration installment.

Mazeltov. To Life. Happy Day of Remembrance to all.

—September 12th, 1825
Old City of Jerusalem

Avram Weiss sat at the head of the table. It was an uncomfortable place, not because the chair wasn’t constructed out of the finest hardwood and certainly not because the seat was cushioned by hand-sewn leather covers imported from the west. This chair was uncomfortable because Avram never should have agreed to eat the ha-Zikkaron feast in the home of Reuben Kessler—a Sephardic Jew. He should be eating in the kosher comfort of their two-room apartment in the lower city in company with his daughter—his only family left on earth—not sitting at the head of the table where Mr. Kessler should be seated. It didn’t matter that the clock maker insisted Avram sit here and preside over the meal. Something odd was going on. He could feel it in the air and he didn’t like it, not one bit.

There was no reason not to enjoy the meal. They were attended by a maid to serve the food, a butler pouring wine and a cook with a delicate touch—at least this first course of tomato and cucumber soup had the perfect balance of garlic, onion, rosemary and basil. The dinning room was bright with holiday candles lit at dawn and the flickering light mixed with the light of the kerosene chandelier hanging over the table and making a more festive sight than in all his years celebrating ha-Zikkaron in Russia. The vase in the center of the table was filled with red and yellow roses and beside each place setting of silverware, crystal and china stood a greeting card of the most exquisite making, trimmed in gold and silver and wishing Avram and his daughter a most happy New Year. Avram removed the caftan from his head and the long earlocks fell down past his gaunt cheeks and mixed with the gray hair of his beard. He brushed them back and started on the soup.

Danny sat on the window side of the table, the large frame silhouetting his long body with the darkness of nightfall and the glow of a full moon. The boy hardly touched the first course. He was dressed in a fine gray suit, his black bowtie perfectly affixed on the turned-up collar of his elegant shirt, the white cloth reaching up around his neck. A silver spoon hung from his hand, the end of it still clean and shimmering in the candlelight without the least bit of broth spoiling the reflection. He stared across the table at Katerina and there was good reason to stare at the girl. Before they left home for this meal his daughter insisted on painting her lips with a deep red lipstick reserved for the most important occasions. She wore a black dress with a border of red, yellow and blue pansies embroidered across the hem—a dress she purchased from the seamstress with money saved for nearly a year. A red rose decorated the part in her black hair and she wore a white lace around her neck, the ends of it swaying with each of her hurried glances, looking up at Danny and smiling before going back to stir her spoon through her soup. But for all the girl’s stirring, she’d not taken a solitary bite. Her dress was kosher, all of it well within the modesty required of hassidic Jews, but Avram couldn’t keep from leaning over his bowl, waving his spoon between the two youths and telling them that—

“We should bless the main course.” Reuben Kessler sat at the opposite end of the table, working his spoon through the green chives and mushrooms topping his soup. He finished the last of his soup, and handed the bowl to the maid. The woman disappeared into the kitchen and returned with two loaves of fresh baked white hallot bread. It was prepared exactly as it should be, with the double strands of dough twisting together reminding them of the binding hope that the prayers they offered today at Synagogue—the ones asking God to awaken to a remembrance of his covenants with Israel—would reach heaven. The twisted ladder bread announced that on this holiday each year men were judged—some destined to climb and prosper while others were condemned to descend and fail. A bounty of confections, cookies and cakes sat on the side table waiting for them to finish their main course, and the smell of simmering meats filtered in from the kitchen and there was no doubt how heaven viewed the clock maker. It was certain Mr. Kessler was judged to climb and prosper in this New Year like he had for so many years before.

Reuben said, “Avram, will you offer the blessing?”

Avram tore away a piece of hallot bread and dipped it in the small bowl of honey beside his plate before raising his gaze to the ceiling and quickly reciting, “May it be thy will, O Lord, to renew unto us a happy and pleasant year.” The others dipped their bread in the honey and repeated the words of his prayer, and as soon as they finished the maid and the cook burst through the doors, the women humming a happy melody and serving the main course—brown trout from the Sea of Galilee. It was just as it should be for the celebration of ha-Zikhron, the fish reminding them of fruitfulness and plenty, but since Danny Kessler’s interest in his daughter was far more than he wanted for the girl, Avram raised his wine glass in the air, held it out in front of the boy to keep him from seeing into his daughter’s eyes and offered a toast that this baked fish with all its garnish make for them a year of plenty. There was not a word about fruitfulness. That was a toast reserved for a newly-wed couple and there was no one at this table who needed neither a wedded blessing nor the promise of such. Avram said, “May it be a year of prosperity for all.”

Avram started into his fish and Mr. Kessler joined him, but Danny and Katerina hardly touched their food. Avram had to say something, but what? They’d already spoken of the weather, offered wishes for a prosperous New Year and sang the songs of the season—and oh how the Kessler’s could sing. It was no wonder Reuben was cantor at the Synagogue and if Danny ever gave up his trumpet playing, he could follow in his father’s footsteps without a single lesson in the art of voice. Avram said, “What day is it, boy?”

Danny turned in his chair, but his gaze remained fixed on Katerina. “What was that, sir?”

“The day boy. What day is it?”

“ha-Zikhron, sir.” Danny didn’t look at him.

“The Greek date.” Avram held up the calendar Danny prepared for the coming year and shook it until he drew Danny’s attention away from his daughter. “In the west, what day is it?”

“It’s right here, sir.” Danny shuffled through the papers and found the month of September hidden among the pages of the calendar. He set his forefinger on the 12th day. “The holiday falls on the twelfth of September this year.”

“Certain you are of it?”

Katerina said, “Papa, when have any of Danny’s calculations been wrong?”

Avram straightened the papers into a neat stack. “The calendar, Danny. Did I pay you for it?”

“It’s a gift, sir.”

“Cards we exchange on ha-Zikkaron.” Avram lifted the gold embossed greeting card off the table. “Not gifts.”

Danny said, “I was hoping to speak to you about that before dinner.”

“A fine job you’ve done with the calendar this year.” Avram reached into his pocket, searching for the money to pay for the boy’s work.

“Papa, let him explain.” Katerina reached across the table and patted Danny on the hand. “Go on. Ask him.”

Danny tapped the tabletop with his finger, his gaze shifting between her and Avram.

Reuben said, “I’ll fetch another bottle of wine from the cellar.”

“Stay here Mr. Kessler.” Katerina turned back to Danny. “Go on, everyone’s listening.”

Avram said, “What are we to listen to?”

Danny said, “I was going to speak to you in private, sir, but…”

“A few errors I can forgive, son.” Avram held up the calendar.

“The dates are fine, but in an odd sort of way it is about the calendar.” Danny took it from him, turned past September, October and November, the papers rustling in the silence of the dinning room. He kept sorting through the months until he came to the end and set the calendar on the table next to Avram’s plate. “Here it is. I calculated the date for next year’s celebration.”

Avram adjusted his glasses on the end of his nose and leaned over the calendar to see the date for the first day of the seventh Jewish month one year from then, when they would again celebrate ha-Zikkaron. Below Danny’s careful pen strokes recording the day for the celebration was a note indicating the details of the wedding of Katerina Weiss, daughter of Avram to Danny Kessler, son of Reuben. Avram removed his glasses, wiped the lens on his cuff and replaced them on his nose, but his rubbing didn’t change the words. They were still there in bold black ink. The wedding was set for mid-day under the canopy in the gardens of the Sephardic Synagogue where the Kesslers prayed every Shabbat.

Avram handed the calendar back to Danny.

“Papa.” Katerina set her fork down. “Hear Danny out.”

“Mr. Weiss.” Danny forced a smile. “Ever since the first day I met your daughter I’ve not thought of much else.”

“Too young you are for this.”

“We’re both nineteen.” Katerina worked the napkin between her thumb and fingers.
Danny said, “I met Katerina two years ago today, do you remember, sir?”

“How can I forget?” Avram raised his hands in the air. “Every day my daughter reminds me of it.”

Danny said, “We thought it a good thing to marry on the anniversary of that day.”
Katerina said, “We’ll both be twenty years old by then, Papa.”

“A good boy, you are Danny. A fine clock maker and the calendar, you calculate it better than any in the city.” Avram reached his hands toward Danny and Reuben. “You are my good Sephardic friends, but we’re not like you. We have our traditions, our ways of doing things.” He turned his gaze over the fine furnishings in the dining room. “We came from the ghetto’s of Russia. Little money we have and less education. We know no other way.”

Katerina came around the table. “You don’t have to answer Danny right now.”

“There’s no other answer, daughter.”

“Please Mr. Kessler.” Danny came down the other side of the table. “Allow me to marry your daughter.”

“Like oil and water we are.” Avram stood and took Katerina by the hand. He nodded to Reuben, thanked him for the lovely dinner before removing the napkin from under his collar and backing away from the table, leaving the half eaten fish and the untouched garnish on his plate. Katerina resisted, but Avram would not relent. He kept a firm hold on her trembling hand and before turning into the hall and going out the front doors to the street he leaned his head in next to Katerina and said, “We don’t mix with other Jews.”

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Join author David G. Woolley at his Promised Land Website.

Divine Calendars

2008-09-28T07:00:00.003-06:00

by David G. Woolley

Editor's note: The Top of the Morning staff is pleased to continue our week-long celebration of the Day of Remembrance with author David G. Woolley through the Jewish Feast day on Monday, September 29th. Today's post is an introduction to Divine Calendars.

Calendars. Clocks. Clay water buckets. Even the circular stone glyphs of this uniquely American calendar pictured above. Some modern. Some ancient. They're all instruments for tracking the passing hours and days of our lives. We're not sure exactly the origin of the first clocks, but we're fairly certain that ancient peoples were interested if not obsessed with finding some sort of measurable units to track the passage of time. This colorful Mayan calendar is a testament to the mathematical genius of ancient Americans. They loved to play with numbers, calculating dates thousands of years into the past and as many more into the future. Its a cyclical five thousand year calendar beginning on August 13th 3,113 B.C,. The reason for the start date is unknown, but the end date four years from this winter on December 21st, 2012 may have important significance.

The Egyptians used this clay bucket as a means for measuring time. They called it a water clock. Each day they filled it with water and then unstopped the cork to let the water slowly drip out holes in the bottom. At the end of the day they read the calibrated marks etched into the inside wall and determined if the day was longer or shorter than previous days. It was an ancient means to establish a measurable unit of what they observed in the rising and setting of the sun. In ancient Egyptian thinking, the March 20th and September 22nd equinox, when the length of daylight is precisely the same length as night, may have been thought of as something like a half bucket long.

The calendars that grew out of ancient cultures and the emergence of the twenty-four hour clock with its divisions of 60 one-minute periods have their beginnings in these time measuring devices. They emerged over time from observations of planetary orbits. The Julian calendar we use today functions precisely as it was intended, as a standardized measure of the observable yearly revolutions of the earth around the sun and the daily twenty four hour rotations of the earth on its axis. The Enoch and Hebrew calendars, and possibly the Mayan calendar, served a rather different, unique purpose. They were Divine.

The Hebrew calendar adopted by Moses for use by ancient Israel (Exodus 12:2, Romans 3:2) is a soli-lunar calendar where the years are based on the movements of the earth around the sun and the length of each of the months dictated by the phases of the moon. Since the phases of the moon don't allow for a full 365 days in a year, a thirteenth month is added every few years to re-align the calendar with the yearly circling of the sun. The Hebrew calendar functioned within ancient Israelite society, as it does today, as a means for calculating the dates on which sacred Israelite feasts were celebrated. Many Israelite feast dates appear to come from an era that pre-dates Moses and were already in full use during the times of the patriarchs.

The prescribed dates for the Hebrew calendar were likely passed on to Moses through the Enoch calendar. Jewish scholars, concerned about the accuracy of celebrating the sacred feasts on the proper date, use the Enoch calendar as a collaborative dating instrument to ensure precision. The Book of Enoch, an ancient text not included in the King James version of the bible but believed to be an authentic ancient record, indicates that the Enoch calendar was given to the prophet Enoch by the angel Uriel.

Astronomer John P. Pratt suggests that both the Enoch and Hebrew calendars provide correct dating, but they were intended for different purposes and they work together as independent witnesses of God’s divine timing of important religious and historical events (John Pratt, Enoch Calendar: Another Witness of the Restoration, Meridian Magazine). Dr. Pratt points out that God may be using the Enoch and Hebrew calendars as instruments for the dating of important religious occasions through timing events in ancient times with similarly themed modern events. Feast dates on the Hebrew calendar and sacred themes associated with specific dates on the Enoch calendar accurately predict events like the birth of Christ, important events during his life, his crucifixion, resurrection, and also restoration events in the history of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints including Joseph Smith’s first vision, the coming forth of the Book of Mormon and the birth and death of the prophet Joseph Smith.

Pratt writes that, “Joseph Smith was born on Monday, 23 December 1805 which coincides with the Hebrew day marking the winter solstice, leading to the suggestion that it symbolized the return of the light of the gospel to a dark world. Thursday, 27 June 1844, the day on which the Prophet went “like a lamb to the slaughter” (D&C 135:4), was one of four Hebrew days of atonement.” The Law of Moses required priests to sacrifice two lambs every day, one in the morning and one in the afternoon (Num. 28:3-8). Because the Hebrew day begins about sunset, the morning sacrifice was near the meridian of the 24-hour Hebrew day, and the afternoon sacrifice was near the end of the day. The morning sacrifice appears to have represented Jesus Christ, who would come in the meridian of time, and the afternoon lamb might well have symbolized the Prophet Joseph Smith, who came in the latter days and did “more, save Jesus only, for the salvation of men in this world, than any other man that ever lived in it” (D&C 135:3)

The search for devices to measure the passage of time likely predated the Egyptian water clock. It may have originated out of the dating of prophesied events including the birth, mission and ministry of Jesus Christ, the Fall of Adam, Noah’s prophesied flood, and numerous events in the restoration of the Church of Jesus Christ in the late 1800s. Astronomer John Pratt writes that, “It appears the Lord's signs and wonders were designed in detail to display in the heavens what men would chronicle on earth.” In order for the movements of planets and other celestial bodies to be used as dating instruments for important future events, the precise dates of those events would have to have been known before the creation of the earth and the orbits of other celestial bodies within view of earth would have had to been set at the time of their creation (Abraham 3: 4-10).

The appearance of a new star at Christ’s birth as prophesied in the Old Testament (Numbers 24:17), for example, is a celestial event that was likely calculated into the movement of a celestial body before the world was created. The use of planets, moons, stars and other celestial bodies as instruments for dating and specifically calendaring important sacred events may be, in part, what God revealed to Abraham when He stated that “it is given unto thee to know the times of reckoning, and the set times of the earth upon which thou standest, and the set time of the greater light which is set to rule the day, and the set time of the lesser light which is set to rule the night” (Abraham 3:6).

The Feast of Trumpets celebrated on the first day of the seventh month of the Hebrew calendar (1 Autumn on the Enoch Calendar) is not only a religiously themed day for repentance and redemption, but also a day for the making and renewing of covenants with God (Lenet Hadley Read, Joseph Smith’s Receipt of the Plates and the Israelite Feast of Trumpets, Journal of Book of Mormon studies, Vol 2, Number 2, Fall 1993 pp110-120). This same covenant-making purpose for the feast is also one of the main purposes of the Book of Mormon (Isaiah 29:14, 2 Nephi 27: 11, 22).

Throughout much of Nephite history, scribes and priests tracked the passage of time beginning with Lehi's departure from Jerusalem. In what is sometimes called the Book of Mormon's Six Hundred Year Prophecy of the coming of Christ, Lehi likely introduced, or at least employed, the knowledge used to design the ancient Mayan calendar pictured at the top of this post to make his prophetic calculation. In a future post titled The First American Calendar, we'll examine Nephite dating, Lehi's Six Hundred Year Prophecy and the Mayan calendar.

In the following excerpt from Chapter 32 of Day of Remembrance, Jospeh Smith meets with Moroni for the last time before recieving the golden metal plates on which were written the text of the Book of Mormon. The importance of covenants and the calendaring of sacred events intersect in this scene. The purpose of the Book of Mormon was intended by its authors to bring to a remembrance of modern peoples the covenants made by their ancient ancestors and assist them in understanding the importance of making and keeping covenants with God. This is a dramatization of the night that restoration began.

12:30 am
Saturday, September 22nd, 1827
The Jewish Sabbath
A Hill Two Miles South of the Smith Farm

Joseph held the plates with both hands. They were heavy—nearly thirty pounds of gold-plated metal by his guessing, but they were a far greater burden than their weight. Joseph was charged like Moses of ancient days with a record of a new covenant and this stone box where they lay for fourteen hundred years was the arc of this new covenant—a receptacle sealing for centuries a record preserved to come forth out of the dust. This small drumlin didn’t rise to near the altitude of Sinai’s summit, there were no trumpets sounding his ascent to the top and there were no Israelites gathered at the base of this hill waiting to receive the record—only his dear wife, Emma, waited below in a surrey—but Moroni promised Joseph that one day the writings on these plates would go to all nations to bless all the families of the earth.

Moroni said, “Read the last words on the first plate—the ones I wrote many years ago before I hid this record here.”

Joseph adjusted the plates beneath the double lens of the Urim and Thumim and Moroni read the translation as it appeared on the surface of the clear stones. His voice was like the sound of a trumpet blast rising up through the trees and proclaiming that the day had arrived for God to remember his covenants with Israel.

Moroni said, “This record will show unto the House of Israel what great things the Lord hath done for their fathers: and that they may know the covenants of the Lord, that they are not cast off forever—and also to persuade Jew and Gentile that Jesus is the Christ, the Eternal God, manifesting himself to all nations.”

A conduit of light opened around Moroni and he walked up into it until the brightness gathered around his form and Joseph was left alone on the hill in the darkness of night. He set the golden plate record on the ground next to the edge of the box, lifted the stone lid into place, but before he fitted it shut he caught a glimpse of the brass plate record that lay in the shadows with the other relics. It was a record much like the Old Testament—at least that’s what he understood from his many visits with Moroni—and its writings were copied into the golden plate record entrusted to Joseph.

He let the stone lid fall into place and seal the brass plates back into the ground, arranged the long grass around the edges and spread a handful of dirt over the top to hide his coming to this place. He wrapped the golden plates in a cloth, but before hefting them down the hill to join Emma he stood for a long moment beside the stone box, the brass record sealed under his feet. He knew the story of the coming forth of the golden plate record. He’d lived it for the past four years, but he couldn’t help but let his mind wander to the other record that lay in this stone box, hidden for centuries in the dust of the earth. Joseph and his family had suffered years of poverty and a good many other hardships, all the while knowing the precious metal in this hill could remedy their ales. Over the past four years he rid himself of the greed of wanting these metal plates for any other purpose than the work of God. Joseph ran the toe of his boot along the seam where the stone lid met the ground. Did the brass record beneath his feet share a story similar to his? Were there other men who suffered like he suffered to preserve ancient covenants for future generations? Joseph tucked the golden plates under his arm and started down the hill.

Would he ever know the story of the brass plates he left behind and how this night was unlike any other night in the calendar of events in the history of men?

__________________________
Join author David G. Woolley at his Promised Land Website.

Feast of Trumpets.

2008-09-26T07:00:00.004-06:00

by David G. Woolley

Editor's note: The Top of the Morning staff is pleased to continue our week-long celebration of the Day of Remembrance with author David G. Woolley through the Jewish Feast day on Monday, September 29th. Today's post features the Jewish tradition of the Feast of Trumpets and its relationship to Moroni's visits to Joseph Smith. Also featured are two excerpts from Day of Remembrance.

This is a trumpet. Jews know it as the shofar (pronounced Show-Far). Made from the hollowed-out horn of a ram, it's the same instrument ancient Israelites used to herald the return of Moses from the summit of Mount Sinai. Beginning on that day Moses instructed the Israelites to celebrate a Feast of Trumpets on the first day of the seventh month (Leviticus 23:24).

A trumpet like this was used to call the Israelites to the foot of Mount Sinai with their families and again to announce the covenant-making ceremony. The Israelites were forbidden to go beyond the foot of the mountain and Moses was directed to set priests along the perimeter to keep the throngs back. Moses was then instructed to bring Aaron up into the mountain where the details of the covenants were given which include the ten commandments popularly associated with this covenant-making event. It is likely that God used Sinai as a temple in the absence of an edifice dedicated as a House of God. Moses later built a tabernacle that served as a transportable temple where rites pertaining to the covenants given at Sinai were remembered.

In the following excerpt taken from chapter eleven of Day of Remembrance Nephi stands atop Mount Sinai and recounts what he knows of the day when Moses stood where he stood.

Nephi emerged from the shadows of a rocky gorge that led through the Border Mountains near the Red Sea and came out on the level plain of a valley at the base of the highest peak. Rugged cliffs graced the slopes along the north side and the late afternoon sun cast an orange glow across the rocky face. If this mountain could speak, what tales would it tell of the day when Moses sounded his trumpet and gathered the Israelites here?

The pilgrimages to Sinai ended centuries ago, the location lost to a remembrance of the elders at Jerusalem, and Nephi was left with nothing but folklore and his mother’s directions to guide him to this place. Sariah told him the story of the first day of the seventh month countless times in his youth. It was a day of blowing of trumpets, a day of memorial, a day for all Israel to make a Feast of Trumpets and remember the covenants given to Moses high on this mountaintop. Mother was certain this peak was the same summit where Moses celebrated the first Day of Remembrance, but how could she know with any certainty—how could any of them know for certain?

The sun pushed toward the western horizon, but the promise of nightfall didn’t keep Nephi from starting up the slopes. He’d gone a full day without water. His throat was dry and his tongue parched, but there was no thirst powerful enough to keep him from climbing the summit and ask God the question that plagued him since coming to this desert. If God could lead Moses to a land of promise, couldn’t He do the same for Nephi and his family?

A warm breeze hurried past these quiet haunts and in the whistling of the wind Nephi could hear the faint call of the trumpet sounding from centuries before. Did Moses stand somewhere along this ridge six hundred eighty six years ago and sound a run of short, high-pitched staccato notes on his shofar horn—the same spirited trumpeting that for centuries had been the call of the Jews to gather and offer prayers for Israel to remember their covenants with God?

Nephi reached the last switchback, but before climbing higher, he turned back to see down the mountain’s face. Was he standing where Moses stood so many centuries before? The prophet’s ancient writings told of four hundred priests standing shoulder-to-shoulder along the base of the mountain, each of them with a shofar and repeating the same run of notes played by Moses, their trumpets pleading with heaven to do for Israel what God had done for their fathers and restore the forgotten covenants that had power to keep them from being cast off forever and remember what they had forgotten during so many years in captivity—that it was God’s work and His glory to bring to pass their immortality and eternal life.

The trumpeters would have been dressed in white robes washed in spring water and scrubbed clean with fuller’s soap, their long, black locks falling out from beneath the white caps adorning the crown of their heads and down past their shoulders. They were no older than Nephi and they would have been better suited to the life of desert warriors than priests of God—hardened by months of wandering through the sands of the Sinai Peninsula and defending their camp from wild beasts and roving bands of Bedouin robbers. And when the threat of chariot riding Egyptians came against them in the deserts of Sinai and they were certain to be captured by the armies that enslaved them for centuries, the Lord parted the Fountain of the Red Sea and these fearless, faithful youths led Israel over on dry ground to make camp in these desert mountains of Midian while Pharaoh’s soldiers were drown in the depths of the sea.

The sound of the shofar horns would have summoned the Israelites into the valley, the quiet sound of their reverent march muted by the clap of thunderheads along the higher elevations, the massive cloud rumbling against the rock cliffs and lightning striking loose a shower of rock down the step face. What a scene it must have been for Moses to look out over this valley filled with thirty thousand Israelites in a sea of brown and white robes. It would have been an endless congregation filing through the rock passages, the Israelites entering the valley hand in hand with their families, young children riding on the shoulders of their fathers, infants in mothers’ arms and the tribe of Joseph carrying the mummified remains of their long-dead prophet-leader along with two royal relics given to Joseph’s sons Ephraim and Manasseh—an ancient sword passed down from father to eldest son and a record written on plates of brass.

Nephi backed from the cliff, climbed through a fissure in the rock and pulled himself up over a ledge to a plateau—up where the mountain reached into the cool of the sky and a run of grasses took refuge from the desert heat below. It was quiet here, with only a lone rock dove soaring across the summit and dividing between them the memory of what happened here so many years ago when the Israelites came to this mountain in search of a land of promise, but received instead an inheritance in eternity. This was Sinai—the place where Moses spoke face-to-face with God. It had to be Sinai, just as Sariah said it was—the sacred place where Israel made covenants with God.

Late in this same scene from Day of Remembrance God makes a covenant with Nephi that he will be a ruler over his people and that his descendants will prosper as long as they obey God’s commandments (1 Nephi 2: 19-24) . In addition, Nephi was promised that the descendants of his older brothers would be a scourge against his descendants if they did not abide by God’s commandments. This covenant is referenced often by Book of Mormon writers throughout Nephite history. Many of the wars between Nephite and Lamanite peoples were attributed to this covenant. Scholar Hugh Nibley indicates that this covenant made with Nephi is the major theme from beginning to the end of the Book of Mormon record.

The sounding of the trumpet, the main ritual on the Feast of Trumpets, symbolizes both redemption and revelation (Trepp, The Complete Book of Jewish Observances, page 144). The trumpet is associated with revelation since the first mention of its use was at Mount Sinai and the Feast of Trumpets is understood as a memorial of Sinai. Dr. Goodman notes that “The celebration of Passover was to be an annual reminder of the exodus. The ritual blast of the shofar would similarly recall by association the revelation on Mount Sinai (Goodman, The Rosh Hashanah Anthology, p. 42).

The sounding of the trumpet appears not only as a remembrance of the revelation given at Sinai, but also as an indication of future events. Just as the trumpet preceded God’s revelation of the law at Sinai (Exodus 19:16) some scholars believe the trumpet sounding during Rosh Hashanah (Ha-Zikaron or the Day of Remembrance) signals further revelation, including the establishment of the true law (Goodman, The Rosh Hashanah Anthology, 42). Old Testament, Book of Mormon, and Doctrine and Covenants scriptures speak of the trumpet preceding the establishment of truth that leads to redemption (Isaiah 58:1, Alma 29:1, D&C 33:2). “And at all times, and in all places, he shall open his mouth and declare my gospel as with the voice of a trump” (D&C 24:12). It is significant that the statue of the angel Moroni atop Mormon temples is portrayed as blowing a trumpet, proclaiming the gospel to the world, and particularly to the house of Israel. A review of LDS history and scripture indicate that most of the restored truths in the gospel of Jesus Christ began with the coming forth of the Book of Mormon.

In this second excerpt from Day of Remembrance Katerina Weiss, a Hassidic Jew, and her soon-to-be finace, Danny Kesler, a Sephardic Jew, give us an understanding of how Jews in the 19th century may have celebrated the Feast of Trumpets on the Day of Remembrance. This scene is set in the Old City of Jerusalem, September 1824.

Katerina Weiss stood with her father, Avram, at the top of the steps above the entrance to Kessler & Son’s clock making shop in the upper city of Old Jerusalem. The light was on, but there was no sign of Danny seated at his worktable near the window and in the gray light before dawn she retied the red ribbon into her long black hair and straightened her checkered dress. It was pressed and cleaned for synagogue this morning but with the cool, mist-filled late September breeze blowing inland from the Mediterranean it was impossible to keep the starched pleats and the white laces of her blouse from sagging.

“I don’t like this, daughter.” Avram hid in the shadows of the gates to the Kessler home. The newer stone in the walls of the two-story home were cut to the same dimensions as the ancient ones in the foundation, the new structure sitting squarely atop the remains of the old one. Poured glass windows graced the front of the building and inside the kitchen near the back of the home the Kessler’s cook worked beneath the light of a kerosene fueled flame preparing loaves of double twisted white ladder bread along with basted veal and fish, pies, cakes and candies to celebrate the day with a traditional meal after synagogue. The light of a many-flamed chandelier filtered out the largest front window and into the darkness of early morning, casting long shadows across Katerina and mixing with the light filtering up the stairs from the doors to the basement clock making shop. Katerina brushed her hair back over her shoulders and rubbed the rouge across her cheeks. She could fit their two-room apartment into the entry of this house. This was one of the grand estates in the city and they should be grateful the Kesslers took a liking to them or they’d have few friends in their new home.

“None of that primping, daughter. To synagogue we go, not a wedding dance.” Avram buttoned the top button on his black coat, fitted the cafton hat over his long gray ear locks and started down the first step when a loud mournful blast like the horn on a street vendor’s cart greeted them from inside the clock making shop. The trumpeting shook the small glass windows on either side of the entrance, echoing up the stairs and reverberating in the narrow stair well cut through the ancient stones of the foundation. Another run of short staccato blasts sounded inside the shop, rattling the wood door against the post, the sound forcing Avram back onto the cobblestones in the street. He reached for the railing at the top of the steps and steadied himself with the iron rod. “What in the name of Jericho?”

“Oh, Papa. It’s only Danny.”

“The clockmaker’s son?”

“He’s practicing. I told you they invited us to attend their synagogue this morning to hear Danny blow the shofar. It’s his first time.”

“He’s to blow the shofar to celebrate the feast, not bring down the walls of the synagogue, daughter.”

“Not a word about his horn playing, do you hear me?” Katerina nudged him in the back to start him down the stairs but he would not budge. “You’ll offend the Kesslers with your humor. They don’t know you like I do.”

“It’s Danny you don’t want to offend, yes?”

Katerina took him by the arm. “I’ll suffer none of your wit this morning.”

“We buy calendars from the Kesslers, and now we go to synagogue with them? I should have known this wasn’t going to be a good New Year.”

“We don’t turn down an invitation from the Kessler family.”

Avram wagged his finger at her. “The invitation was to you from Danny.”

“Fine.” Katerina let go of his arm. “I’ll go with Danny.”

“You’ll do no such thing.” Avram patted her on the cheek. “I’m not so old I don’t remember what it’s like to be you.”

“You were never a woman.”

“I won your mother’s hand, God bless her soul.”

“Papa, not here in the street.”

“I see what happens when you speak with Danny Kessler.” Avram removed his caftan and ran his fingers through his graying hair before refitting the hat. “You laugh for his jokes more than they deserve, you smile more in his presence than I should ever allow, and you forget there’s anyone else for miles around. You’re in a room full of Jews and think you’re alone with the son of the clock maker.” He took Katerina by the hand. “The Kesslers aren’t like us, daughter.”

“Papa, there’s hardly anyone in Jerusalem like us.”

“You miss my point.”

“Which is?”

“We should celebrate today with the other hassids in the city, not with these, these…

“They’re Jews, Papa. We’re all Jews. You, me, Danny, Mr. Kessler. What does it matter if we don’t share the same customs?”

“Living the law is not a custom.”

“The Kesslers live the law.”

“They don’t wear the covenants.” Avram grabbed the fringe that hedged out from under the tail of his black coat—the six hundred thirteen knots tying the corners of his undershirt together filled his hand with white linen.

“They don’t need to wear them Papa, not as long as they live them.”

“It isn’t proper. You should be with your own kind.” Avram dropped the knotted fringe to his side and patted her on the back of the hand. “There’s certain to be a clockmaker among the hassids in this city.”

“I’m not interested in a clock maker.”

“You’re interested in Danny Kessler, yes?”

“I don’t care if he were a street sweeper. Must I ignore every young man in the city?”

Another loud blast on the trumpet shot out the entrance of the shop followed by a run of nine staccato blasts—three of them were sharp and powerful, but the rest cracked when Danny held onto them. He was still having troubles and there was no time to practice.

“You see there.” Katerina brushed some lint from Avram’s sleeve. “He’s getting better. He has the teruah down nicely.”

“She knows the names of the trills and runs of the trumpet notes played on the feast day.” Avram raised both hands in the air. “You’ve been coming here to listen to the Kessler boy practice.”

“Only enough to know he’s improving.”

Avram straightened his cuffs. “There are Hassidic men in the city that haven’t a wife.”

“No Papa.” Katerina shook her head. “Not Jonah the butcher.”

“And what’s wrong with a butcher?”

“The poor man has no teeth.”

“He doesn’t have need of them. He grinds his food in his meat grinding machines.”

“Oh, Papa you don’t want me to grind my food for the rest of my life.”

“When have I ever not meant what I say?” Avram held her by both hands. “The young clock maker is all you ever speak of.”

“Is that such a bad thing?”

“How can I arrange a marriage with the butcher if you’re always talking about Danny Kessler?”

“If speaking of Danny Kessler will keep the toothless butcher away, I’ll speak of the clockmaker in every breath.”

The horn sounded again with three resounding blasts, before falling silent long before the run of notes was complete. The door to the shop swung open and Danny Kessler poked his head around the doorpost, his hair falling down over his brow. “I thought I heard voices.” He stepped into the stairwell, his long shofar horn hanging at his side. He combed his hair back before waving them down the stairs, inviting them into the shop and wishing them a happy first day of the seventh month.

Katerina stood just inside the door with her father hovering over her, his wide frame separating the couple. Danny leaned around him to greet her with a warm good morning and offer a reserved smile before removing his apron, revealing a freshly pressed white shirt with long sleeves. A black bow tie sat uncomfortably over the top button and Katerina reached past her father to adjust it, her small hands quickly untying and retying the bow on his long neck. She brushed against his chin and her touch raised a smile across his lips. She helped him with his coat, tucking the chain of a silver pocket watch in place and then he put on his kittel—the long white robe that reached from his shoulders down to the soles of his black polished shoes. It was the costume the horn blower wore to synagogue to celebrate the Feast of Trumpets and remember the appearance of Elisha come to announce the Messiah and the blessing of eternal life promised to those who keep their covenants. And Danny did look like an angel with his red cherubic cheeks and his light brown hair brushing the top of his ears and against the high collar of his shirt—simply the most heavenly young man in all the Old City and Katerina leaned up on her toes and kissed him on the cheek. “You’ll play very well today. I’m sure of it.”

Danny reached under the white robe and fished the timepiece from his coat pocket, before calling across the shop, past the shelves of ticking clocks. “Papa, we can’t be late.”

Reuben Kessler stood at the safe door, turning the dial on the lock and reaching his long arms inside the chest-high vault. Katerina stepped past her father to see down beyond the shelves of clocks to where Reuben stood, but there were too many shadows playing across the opening of the ancient receptacle to see inside and get a glimpse of what lay safe-guarded there. Danny told her the foundation of their home—the thick limestone forming the walls and floor of this clock-making shop—were original stones from a centuries-old estate chiseled by pick axe and hammer. If that vault could speak, what tales would it tell—what sorts of treasures were guarded inside the wall of this estate thousands of years before?

Katerina leaned her head forward as Reuben took out a copy of the Torah, rested the end of it in his hand, the length of it fitted against his arm and the top coming alongside his cheek. That was odd. The man kept valuable gold and silver clocks on the shelves in plain view, but he sealed the family copy of the Torah away in his vault. Reuben was the guardian of a Torah scroll passed down through a noble family of cantors for generations. The scripture was well over a hundred years old with hardly any cracking or chaffing in the leather and Mr. Kessler treated it with more safekeeping than any of the gold and silver in his shop.

Danny gathered a stack of papers from his worktable and walked them over to Avram. “Just as you ordered.” He handed him the calendar for the year 1824. “Today’s
feast of trumpets falls on September 24th.”

Avram rustled through the papers. “Calculate them all, did you?”

“I finished the conversions early this morning.” Danny waited for him to check his math against the dates on the Gentile calendar before saying, “Happy New Year, sir.”

“Day of Remembrance, boy, and forget it you will not.” Avram nodded. “A proper name the day has.” He stuffed the calendar under his arm before turning his gaze onto Katerina. “And may it be a good day for us all.”

Danny clicked open the face of his pocket watch. “We don’t want to arrive late.”

“Arrive late, he says.” Reuben Kessler walked the Torah scrolls down between the shelves. He draped his prayer shawl over his head, covering his gray linen suit and bowtie with the blue and white striped cloth and started out the door ahead of them. “Punctuality. When did my son ever concern himself with it? More than ten years now I sing the songs of the Torah and never does he worry about the hour of Synagogue until it’s his turn to blow the shofar horn.” Reuben glanced at the clocks on the shelves. “For the love of Moses, Danny, it doesn’t require thirty minutes to walk three blocks.”

Of the four Sephardic Synagogues in the Old City, the Kesslers attended the largest. It stood on the hill in the Upper City, hardly a five-minute walk up a steep, centuries old street wound around two wide turns and beneath three archways. It was a limestone building with a rounded dome for a roof. There were no elegant steeples, no parapets or cathedral towers, nothing but a thick double-planked door that stood open to welcome the gathering Jews.

Katerina was first inside the crowded main room. She pushed through the throng and opened a way for the others in their small group until a woman called out that the trumpeter had arrived and the congregation parted to let Danny and Mr. Kessler pass to the front and stand beside the rabbi—an older gentleman with graying hair, a small black yarmulke on the crown of his head, and a white prayer shawl with blue stripes draped over him like the one Mr. Kessler wore. There was no room on the old wooden benches and Katerina found a secluded place to stand in the shadows along the far wall with her father though the darkness didn’t keep the worshippers from staring at them. The quick glances and curious stares stung father more than they bothered her. She could feel him stiffen next to her, his shoulders pulling back and his head going down behind the cover of his caftan. Hassids didn’t come to this synagogue with their black coats and black pants and a fringe of knots hanging about the hip. Thankfully Danny raised his trumpet without waiting for the Rabbi to begin the service, and Katerina nodded to him, silently thanking him for turning the eyes of so many another direction.

Danny spoke with a confident voice, offering the blessing over the shofar to begin the celebration of the Feast of Trumpets. He said, “Awake, ye that are sleepy, and ponder your deeds, remember your Creator, and go back to Him in penitence. Waste not your years seeking after vain things that neither profit nor deliver. Look well to your souls and consider your deeds.” He turned his gaze back to Katerina. “Return to God, so that He may have mercy on you and bless your life with goodness.”

The Rabbi raised his hands, his prayer shawl cascading down over his arms and explained that the shofar recalled how the children of Israel received the Ten Commandments and the covenant at Mount Horeb. Mr. Kessler stood next to the Rabbi and announced the first note on the shofar—the tekiah—and Danny pressed his lips to the mouthpiece and sounded a long, mournful blast on the trumpet. And when he finished Mr. Kessler’s resonating voice filled the chamber with the sound of his singing prayer, inviting Israel to awaken to their covenants with god and reminding them of the creation of the earth.

The congregation repeated the song. They didn’t sing well but it was like hearing the voices of angels with so many faithful Jews remembering their covenants. And they were faithful, no matter how much Papa insisted otherwise. Katerina took him by the hand, leaned over and wished him a Happy New Year. He held his fringe of 613 knots with his free hand and wished her a blessed Day of Remembrance.

Mr. Kessler announced the shevarim—the second portion of horn playing in the service—and Danny played three shorter blasts followed by the teruah, the nine quick, sharp notes, echoing about the chamber and repeated in a flurry of different sequences, all paired in groups of nine blasts. Danny’s horn playing was bright and strong without any of the cracking notes that plagued his practice and Katerina nodded at the completion of each set of nine-note runs. He was doing a fine job and she closed her eyes while the Rabbi spoke and imagined what it must have been like to stand at the base of Mount Horeb when Moses received the law from heaven. And she kept her eyes closed while Mr. Kessler sang a song begging God to awaken himself to a remembrance of His covenants with Israel. Papa squeezed her hand, but she didn’t open her eyes. She listened while the Rabbi concluded the service, reminding them that the shofar carried to their hearts the promise of redemption, the coming of the Messiah and the time when God would send the prophet Elijah, bearing the covenants—the same covenant given to Abraham that through his posterity all the nations of the earth would be blessed. He said, “From the tops of the mountains will sound the mighty shofar.”

Katerina opened her eyes and when her gaze fell on Danny smiling down at her a thrill passed through her. He was the trumpeter sounding the shofar and if not for the crowd separating her from him, she would have stepped to his side and begged him to take her to the tops of the mountains and find the promise the Rabbi spoke of for both of them—the promise that they could marry, no matter what Papa said, and see that their marriage was blessed by heaven to endure forever.

__________________________
Join author David G. Woolley at his Promised Land Website.

Feast of Trumpets

2008-09-26T00:08:00.009-06:00

Editor's note: The Top of the Morning staff is pleased to continue our week-long celebration of the Day of Remembrance with author David G. Woolley through the Jewish Feast day on Monday, September 29th. Check back later today, Friday, September 26th when we release the Feast of Trumpets post. Sunday, the day before the Jewish holy day of Ha-Zikaron, we're pleased to present Divine Calendars.

Until then, Top of the Morning to you.

Sariah & the Brass Plates

2008-09-25T04:00:00.025-06:00

by David G. Woolley

Editor's note: The Top of the Morning staff is pleased to continue our week-long celebration of the Day of Remembrance with author David G. Woolley through the Jewish Feast day on Monday, September 29th. Today's post deals with the brass plates and Sariah, wife of Lehi.

The Book of Mormon is a divine treasure trove. It clarifies biblical doctrine. It adds the weight of proportion to the most important gospel teachings. Faith. Repentance. Forgiveness. Baptism. Atonement. Salvation. It restores and supports the divine necessity of covenant-making and covenant-keeping. It testifies of Christ. Its also a treasury of artifacts that lends very nicely to novel writing.

Laban's sword. The Liahona Compass. The Title of Liberty. Small plates. Large plates. An Ezrom of silver (look for a fascinating discussion about ezroms of silver in a future post). These tangibles make the intangibles of story telling palpable. Artifacts are the building blocks of epics. The technical tools of scene creation. The props of a great tale.

The jewel in the crown of ancient Book of Mormon artifacts is the brass plate record sequestered in Captain Laban's treasury. Similar to the Semitic writings found on this bell-shaped brass plate pictured above, Captain Laban's brass plate record was one of the first artifacts mentioned in the Book of Mormon. Its also arguably the most important.

For nearly a thousand years the the Law of Moses recorded in the brass plates guided the religious life and the cultural identity of the Nephites. They were to have no other Gods but the God of Israel. Graven images were out. Modesty was in. The meat of wild animals was prohibited. Domesticated beasts were the only approved source of animal protein and even then, if the meat was not ritually drained of its blood by the local Nephite priest, it was likely considered a blood-thirsty, unclean food and not fit for consumption. Personal sanitation was paramount. Washing a must. Clean water wells and flowing aquifers satiated the need for bathing. Agriculture was encouraged. Hunting and nomadic life was frowned upon.

When Enos wrote of his Lamanite adversaries he described them in terms of his covenant-keeping Law-of-Moses-adhereing world view. We learn as much about Nephite cultural and religious sensibilities as we do of the Lamanites when he wrote, "I bear record that the people of Nephi did seek diligently to restore the Lamanites unto the true faith in God. But our labors were vain; their hatred was fixed, and they were led by their evil nature that they became wild, and ferocious, and a blood-thirsty people, full of idolatry and filthiness; feeding upon beasts of prey; dwelling in tents, and wandering about in the wilderness with a short skin girdle about their loins and their heads shaven; and their skill was in the bow, and in the cimeter, and the ax. And many of them did eat nothing save it was raw meat; and they were continually seeking to destroy us (Enos 1:20).

The last phrase from Enos is rather telling. Neighboring non-covenant-keeping tribal civilizations, referred to in this passage under the blanket title of Lamanites, were continually seeking to destroy the Nephites. Why the war-like mentality? The family feud between Laman and Nephi likely didn't fuel outrage in vast segments of Lamanite society, many of whom were not direct descendants of Laman and Lemuel. Anger over centuries old grudges may have been the war cry, but the Book of Mormon makes very clear that suspicion over unfamiliar Nephite religious practices coupled with competition for life-sustaining resources like land, water, and crops, as well as sources of wealth like gold and silver, were the fundamental motivators of self-interest behind their wars.

The Nephites were peculiar when compared to any other tribal group in the region. Nephites worshiped a living God. Neighboring civilizations worshiped idols. The Nephites looked forward to the coming of Christ. Neighboring civilizations looked forward to the coming of whole classes of heavenly, earthly and underworld Gods. Nephites viewed their kings as men in the service of God. Neighboring civilizations deified their kings in deity impersonation rituals and their war heroes and generals were believed to be Gods come to earth in human form. The Nephites followed a strict code of nutrition. Neighboring civilizations hunted wild game. The Nephites lived a sedentary, agrarian lifestyle. Neighboring civilizations were mostly semi-nomadic with the exception of some north-of-the-narrow-neck groups who became expert in building cement homes. And even those were dissident Nephites who defected in search of arable land and who, for a time after defecting, likely followed at least portions of the Law of Moses.

The account of Mosiah interloping the kingship of a newly encountered civilization is difficult to fathom if not for one key factor (Omni 1:12-20). The brass plates. Warned by God through revelation, Mosiah escaped the Land of Nephi ahead of a Lamanite attack that would likely have brought the Nephite civilization perilously close to extinction. He led the migration of roughly thirty thousand through difficult-to-negotiate mountains for twenty one days before arriving in the Vally of the Land of Zarahemla where, over nearly four hundred years, the Mulekites had established a much larger kingdom. It was the brass plates that likely convinced King Zarahemla to turn the reigns of government power over to non-native speaking, newly arrived King Mosiah. The Law of Moses preserved on the metal plates was a symbol of their shared Hebrew past. It was a constitutional foundation under which they would mix multiple tribes speaking multiple languages into a single Nephite nation under the rule of direct descendants of Nephi.

Divine inspiration led Lehi to send his sons back to Jerusalem to secure the brass plates from Captain Laban. Not only did the record guide the religious practices of the Nephites, preserve their heritage, and act as the foundation for governing their society for nearly six hundred years, it also contained the writings of ancient prophets destined to be copied into the gold plate record containing the text of the Book of Mormon. Sariah, the mother of these boys, was no less inspired to agree to the unthinkable. She allowed her sons to return to Jerusalem knowing that their mission could get them killed.

In this excerpt from Day of Remembrance, the expectant mother, Sariah, has been up most of the night while Lehi tossed and turned in his sleep. He was dreaming, she was suffering the pain of carrying a baby to term in the unforgiving heat and sands of a wilderness desert. She was also distressed over the possiblity of her sons returning to Jerusalem. Neither of them slept well. This scene takes place in the early morning hours inside the tent Sariah shares with her prophet-husband.

Lehi said, “We haven’t a copy of the Law.”

Sariah said, “We brought the writings of other prophets with us.”

“I want your blessing to send our sons back.”

Sariah didn’t answer him and Lehi said, “I dreamed a dream that they’re to go back to—

“I heard you.”

“Then you agree to send them?”

“It’s far too dangerous to send them back for brass plates.”

“I never mentioned brass plates.”

Sariah took hold of the tent pole, the narrow timber bending under her but not breaking. “They’re one of Captain Laban’s relics, aren’t they?” She slowly nodded as she spoke. “Laban keeps them in a treasury beneath his estate, locked away in some sort of vault—isn’t that so? And he guards them with fifty soldiers.”

“I don’t know how many guards.”

“There’s fifty and they keep watch at the front and back entrances day and night armed with swords, and spears and arrows and slings and every manner of weapon.”

“Where did you learn that?”

Sariah slowly lowered herself to the ground holding the center tent pole with one hand and Lehi helping her with the other. She pulled the lambskin blanket under her chin like a child hiding from the dangers of night. “Captain Laban keeps the record of the Jews and also a genealogy of your forefathers engraved on plates of brass.” She glanced up at Lehi. “Why would the Captain have your Genealogy? There’s no explanation for that, but for some reason he does.”

Lehi said, “Where did you get such a notion?”

Sariah brushed a tear from her cheek before softly saying, “Last night I dreamed the same dream.”

__________________________
Join author David G. Woolley at his Promised Land Website.

On This Prophetic Date

2008-09-23T07:00:00.018-06:00

by David G. Woolley

Editor's note: The Top of the Morning staff is pleased to continue our week-long celebration of the Day of Remembrance with author David G. Woolley through the Jewish Feast day on Monday, September 29th. Today's post deals with one of the lesser known prophetic restoration dates on the Hebrew Calendar pictured above (click here to enlarge). We hope you'll join us daily as we celebrate the Day of Remembrance.

Every September 22nd from 1823 through 1827 Joseph Smith returned to the hill where the golden plate record containing the text of the Book of Mormon lay buried and meet with Moroni. It was a time of economic hardship. Betrayal of neighbors eventually resulted in the loss of the family farm. It was also a time of learning at the feet of Moroni.

Scholars have suggested numerous reasons why Moroni told Joseph that the time had not yet come for him to receive the plates and wouldn’t arrive for four more years. Among the reasons suggested were his youth and inexperience, his need to be tutored and prepared by the angel Moroni for his calling as a prophet, and the need to prove his willingness to keep the commandments of God—something his mother Lucy mentions in connection with his desire to use the precious metal in the plates to answer the oppressive financial burdens of the family.

It is likely that there was another, possibly more encompassing reason than Joseph's preparation. The fulfillment of prophecy. Joseph Smith received the golden plate record for translation early in the morning of September 22nd, 1827, the day appointed for God to remember his covenants with Israel. With the passing of each yearly visit Joseph was fulfilling the Timing of Heaven.

The name most often used for the day on which the Feast of Trumpets is celebrated today is Rosh ha-Shanah which means New Year. Go ahead and click on this Hebrew calendar to find the Feast of Trumpets near the bottom, celebrated on the first day of Tishri, the seventh month on the Hebrew cyclical calendar. Its original name, Ha-Zikaron or Day of Remembrance, is really a new beginning rather than the start of a new calendar year. On this day the Lord is said to move from His seat of judgment to His mercy seat by mercifully providing a new beginning through gathering Israel out of exile, remembering His covenants with their fathers, and restoring them as His covenant people.

This new beginning was to be initiated by the sounding of the trumpet. The night Moroni visited Joseph Smith Jr. for the first time he quoted, among other things, the eleventh chapter of Isaiah, a millennialist prophecy regarding the second gathering of Israel (Terryl Givens, By The Hand of Mormon, Oxford University Press, 2002, p 64). Without referring directly to the ancient Israelite Feast of Trumpets or the Day of Remembrance, Moroni identifies themes of gathering associated with those holy days when he quoted Isaiah, telling Joseph Smith that God will set up an “ensign for the nations, and gather the outcasts of Israel, and gather together the dispersed of Judah, from the four corners of the earth (Isaiah 11:12).

Though the Feast of Trumpets is celebrated on the first day of the seventh month of the Hebrew calendar as prescribed by the Old Testament, that day does not fall on the same day each year on the solar calendar used in western societies. The months of the Hebrew calendar are determined by the lunar cycle and the date for the feast (Leviticus 23:24) falls anywhere between the first days of September to as late as the first days of October on the western solar Gregorian calendar.

You can use this Hebrew calendar converter to input any day from the Gregorian calendar and find the Hebrew calendar date. If you input Joseph Smith's first visit to the hill on September 22nd, 1823 you'll find that the Day of Remembrance was celebrated 17 days earlier on the first day of Tishrei (sometimes spelled Tishri). In 1824 the celebration occurred two days after Joseph's visit with Moroni on the 29th day of previous Hebrew month called Elul. In 1825 the feast fell ten days before Joseph's return to the hill. In 1826 it was celebrated ten days after Joseph's yearly pilgrimage. And in 1827, the day when Joseph was entrusted with the golden plate record and came down from the hill with what he called a new Covenant, Jews across the world were celebrating the Day of Remembrance on the 1st day of the Hebrew month of Tishrei.

Most scholars agree that the main theme for Rosh Hashanah is remembrance—God’s remembrance of his covenants with Israel, and the need of Israel’s remembrance of their God. (Artz, Justice and Mercy, 129, Snaith, The Jewish New Year Festival, 162, 172) The prayers offered on the feast day are intended to prepare men and women for the coming messianic age and the pleadings include phrases like, “Remember us unto life” and “May our remembrance…come before Thee.” These prayers invoke the same spirit of making of covenants between God and Abraham as well as other ancient patriarchs recorded in the Old Testament.

The return covenant-blessings from God which follow Israel’s remembrance of their covenants with God are repeated in prayers offered on the Day of Remembrance and are similar to the words written by the prophet Moroni in the title page of the Book of Mormon where he stated that one of the two main purposes of the book was, “to show unto the remnants of the House of Israel what great things the Lord hath done for their fathers; and that they may know the covenants of the Lord, that they are not cast off forever”. As part of the prayers offered on Rosh ha-Shanah Jews today still read the Old Testament passage, “I will for their sakes remember the covenant of their ancestors, whom I brought forth out of the land of Egypt” (Leviticus 26:45) .

The celebration of the Feast of Trumpets has four major themes: a time of Israel’s final harvest, the Day of Remembrance of God’s covenants with Israel, the announcement of revelation or truth, and preparation for God’s holiest times with the advent of the Messianic Age. It is interesting to note that since Joseph Smith published the Book of Mormon, it has been the main instrument in the harvest of souls—what is commonly referred to as proselytizing or missionary work.

Present-day Jews observe ha-Teurah, The Feast of Trumpets, on a day known as Rosh ha-Shanah, meaning the “turning of the year”—a holiday that has evolved within modern Jewry into a “Jewish New Year”. It was on that feast-day in 1827 that Joseph Smith Jr., like Moses before him, brought down from a hill in upstate New York an ancient record he refereed to as a New Covenant. The sacred text was etched on plates of gold by ancient Jews who migrated to the New World and later deposited in a subterranean stone box about four hundred years after the birth of Christ—sealed in the ground for centuries in a hill south of what would one day be nineteenth century Palmyra, New York. Fourteen hundred years later, Joseph Smith Jr. translated the record from its ancient reformed Semitic dialect and published the translation as the Book of Mormon, fulfilling ancient biblical prophecies that the God-given covenants revealed to Moses would, in the last days of the earth, speak out of the dust.

On September 22nd, 1827 the Jewish celebration of Rosh ha-Shanah marked the beginning of a prophetic call for Joseph Smith Jr. to do a work unlike any in the modern world. Early in the morning of the Jewish feast-day Joseph Smith ushered into existence additional Judeo-Christian scripture appropriately sub-titled Another Testament of Jesus Christ and began a dispensation of revelations destined to reach beyond the community of Palmyra Township and touch the lives of men and women across the earth who would listen to this modern prophet tell of a latter-day restoration when God remembered again his ancient covenants with Israel. The significance of ha-Teurah—The Feast of Trumpets—remains somewhat unfamiliar to readers of the Book of Mormon. The Hebrew Holy Day on which this feast is celebrated did not always bear the name Rosh ha-Shanah as it did in Joseph Smith’s time of the late 1820’s. When the prophet Lehi lived at Jerusalem six hundred years before the birth of Christ, the day set apart for celebrating the Feast of Trumpets was known among Jews as ha-Zikkaron—The Day of Remembrance.

This excerpt from Day of Remembrance leaves you with a sense of the importance of the Timing of Heaven seen through the eyes of the ancient prophet Jeremiah. This scene takes place twenty eight days before the Feast of Trumpets.

The prophet Jeremiah leaned higher in Ebed’s powerful arms, his gaze moving slowly about the dark ceiling of the prison like a wise man scanning the night sky. “The heavens with all their planets and stars and the revolutions of this earth are a great timepiece, more accurate than the most precise water clock and the time appointed to preserve the records of the covenant is come.” He took Ebed by the forearm. “Every feast among our people was calendared in the heavens. The Babylonians and the Egyptians and the Chaldeans have their calendars, but they do nothing more than track the passing seasons and the rising and setting of the sun.” Jeremiah held his hand to his mouth and coughed before saying, “Hidden in the calendar given to Moses is the appointed day for the record to come forth in the fullness of times.” Jeremiah lay back in Ebed’s arms. “I must ready the brass plates to have part in that future Day of Remembrance and curse any man who seeks to stop me—curse him to death.”

“He’s threatening Captain Laban.” The old jailer raised his torch higher, the flickering orange-yellow light casting over the prophet’s frail frame. “Just as he threatened the prophet Hannaniah. He killed the man. No one knows how, but he did it.” The old jailer fumbled for the key to the prison, pushed open the iron gate with his boot and started up the circular stairs, but before he disappeared around the turn he pointed the end of his torch at Jeremiah and spoke through the oil smoke rising from the flame.

“Twenty eight days and we’re all cursed!”

__________________________
Join author David G. Woolley at his Promised Land Website.

On This Hill

2008-09-22T07:00:00.011-06:00

by David G. Woolley

Editor's note: The Top of the Morning staff is pleased to continue our week-long celebration of the Day of Remembrance with author David G. Woolley through the Jewish feast day on Monday, September 29th. Today's post centers around the events that took place on the hill where the golden plate record containing the text of the Book of Mormon lay buried for centuries. We hope you'll join us daily as we celebrate the Day of Remembrance.

Sometime this morning, one hundred eighty five years ago on Monday, September 22nd 1823, seventeen-year-old Joseph Smith Jr. left his father and brothers harvesting a stand of wheat and walked two miles south east of his log cabin home to the wooded slopes of this hillside overlooking Canandiagua road in Manchester Township, just across the county line from Palmyra Township. He also left behind his life as a farmer.

Neither Joseph Smith nor the angel Moroni gave the hill a name except to call it the “place where the record lay buried” and the “highest drumlin in the county”. Associates of Joseph Smith beginning with Oliver Cowdery named it Cumorah after a hill mentioned in the Book of Mormon text where the prophet Mormon anciently buried numerous records that had been entrusted to him before he turned the golden plate record over to his son Moroni prior to one of the final battles in Nephite history (Mormon 6:6).

The hill where the prophet Mormon buried numerous Nephite records is likely not the same hill pictured above where thirty six years later Mormon's son, Moroni, buried the golden plate record (Moroni 10:1-2). The Jaredites, 900 years earlier, gathered for battle at this same hill they called “the hill Ramah” (Either 15:11). The hill Cumorah was near where the Mulekites landed (Alma 22:30) and it was in the area the Nephites referred to as the narrow neck of land (Alma 22:32).

When Joseph Smith didn’t correct his associates with regard to the name of the hill where he unearthed the golden plate record containing the text of the Book of Mormon, the folk-name Cumorah gained popularity. The yearly pageant titled America’s Witness for Christ performed on the hill where Joseph Smith recovered the golden plate record is commonly referred to as the Hill Cumorah pageant, further blurring the distinction between the ancient hill mentioned in the Book of Mormon (Mormon 6:6) and the hill where Joseph Smith unearthed an ancient record written on golden plates.

On that morning in 1823 Joseph either forgot or disregarded the angel’s prohibition that, “he should have no other object in view in getting the plates but to glorify God.” Not twelve hours before arriving at the hill Joseph was warned by Moroni that because of the difficult financial situation of his family he was to avoid the temptation to “get the plates for the purpose of getting rich”. Dr. Terryl Givens suggests that Joseph may have forgotten the instructions (Terryl Givens, By the Hand of Mormon, Oxford University Press, 2002), but historian Richard Bushman indicates that the sight of golden metal plates and other valuable objects buried in the stone box was likely too great of a temptation for young Joseph to resist (Richard L. Bushman, Joseph Smith and the Beginnings of Mormonism, University of Illinois press, 1984).

Lucy Smith wrote that Joseph removed the plates from the hill and was then curious if other treasures remaining inside the stone box could be used to help alleviate the financial burdens of the smith family. Her account may be somewhat unreliable in that she attributes this event to Joseph’s second visit to the hill one year later in 1824 and she also mentions that he took the plates from the hill after which Moroni returned them to the stone box and then Joseph was thrown back by a powerful shock and prevented from taking the plates (Lucy Smith, Preliminary Manuscript, p. 83)

An account written by Oliver Cowdery supports Bushman’s observations that these events occured in 1823 on Joseph's first visit to the hill. Oliver Cowdery as well as his mother Lucy wrote that Joseph told them that he reached for the plates three times and each time received a severe shock that threw him back into the grass. When he cried out, “Why can I not obtain this book,” Moroni appeared and said, “Because you have not kept the commandments of the Lord”. Oliver Cowdery records that Joseph was then given a vision of the “prince of darkness” dressed in flowing black robes and told by the angel that, “All this is shown, the good and the evil, that ye may know hereafter the two powers and never be influenced or overcome by that wicked one”.

Dr. Bushman points out that the angels instructions took the greed of money diggers out of the realm of curious adventure and placed it squarely in the realm of evil. Oliver Cowdery recorded that Moroni said, “You now see why you could not obtain this record. The commandment was strict, and if ever these sacred things are obtained they must be by prayer and faithfulness in obeying the Lord” (Joseph Smith, History of the Church, 1:14, Messenger and Advocate, Oct., 1835; see also Lucy Smith, Preliminary Manuscript, pp. 41-42).

To appreciate the timing of heaven in the events of this Monday morning in September of 1823 and each September leading up to Joseph Smith's reception of the gold plate record four years later, the following excerpt from Day of Remembrance gives you a sense of the fullfillment of ancient propehcy unfolding in this moment. The following scene is based on the writings of Joseph Smith, Oliver Cowdery and Lucy Smith.

The capstone came up off its moorings and the ancient air sealed for centuries inside the cemented vault rushed out in a soft gasp. The light of morning filtered down into the box and spread over the golden hue of metal plates in the center of the underground receptacle. It was exactly as the angel told Joseph. Three rings held the plates together, the metal sheets filled with curious ancient characters. Next to the record sat a silver bow with two clear stones cradled in the center like spectacles, but far too large to be fastened about the ears. And that wasn’t all. There was a double-edged steel sword with a gold hilt decorated with jewels and next to it was a tarnished spherical ball with spindles like a compass. There were some scratches in the brass ball and a small dent along one side, but the three spindles were perfectly balanced on the fulcrum of the compass. And next to the metal ball, set just inside the edge of the stone box was another record, this one a darker greenish-orange, like cooper or possibly some sort of aged brass.

Joseph knelt along the edge of the stone box, the Palmyra sun casting the first light over these relics in two millennia. The treasures could do more than purchase the farm from the land agent. There was enough precious metal here to make the family wealthy beyond their dreams, and just at the perfect time when Mother and Father were getting older and past the days when they should spend so much time in hard labor. This was an answer to prayers. It could be the end of their troubles—a passage to a better life.

Joseph reached into the stone box to take out the gold plates when a violent shock pulsed through him with the power of a lightning strike strong enough to throw him back into the tall grasses. He shook his head and pushed aside the green blades. What was that? There wasn’t a storm brewing in the sky above the drumlin with power to send a bolt to the earth. He crawled back to the edge of the stone box and reached inside, but the lightning hit him again, throwing him farther back and the sting of it shaking his limbs. What power protected these relics? The plates were right there in front of him, their golden color shimmering in the morning sun and mixing with the precious silver of the Urim and Thumim, the brilliant shine of the sword, the light bending around the curious spherical compass and the stately reflection of the brass plates. What an awful twist of fates. These were treasures that money diggers wagered their lives to find. Not just last night he tried to talk Mr. Stafford out of searching for buried treasure, told him he was wasting his time and now he’d found what the poor man couldn’t. He was close enough to touch the plates and he extended his hand one more time to see if he could take the gold record out of the—

The powerful surge of lightning hit him a third time, forcing him onto his back and numbing his arms like ice on a winter pond. He held his hands to his head, rubbed the throbbing pain from his skull, and in the quiet of this hilltop he cried, “Why can I not obtain this book? What force is it that keeps me from—?
“Joseph.” Moroni stood in the air above the stone box, his white robe, brighter than the mid day sun. “You can not get the plates because you have not kept the commandments of God.”

Joseph struggled back onto his knees and inched to the edge of the stone box. The warnings the angel gave him last night flooded his mind. He was to have no other design than to build the kingdom of God, but he’d gotten carried away. He’d gone against the commands of an angel no less, and there was no way he’d be forgiven for trying to take these treasures out of the box and see how much money he could earn by selling them. Joseph lowered his gaze from Moroni, but instead of a fierce rebuke from the angel, his mind was filled with a vision of the evil working against him. For a moment the veil of his mind was lifted and he could see the darkness of the adversary—a man dressed in terrible flowing black robes tempting him to be like the money diggers and seek after riches.

“All this is shown to you.” Moroni raised his hands, the wide cuffs of his white robe falling down past his wrists. “The good and the evil, the holy and the impure, the glory of God and the power of darkness—that ye may know hereafter the two powers and never be influenced or overcome by that wicked one.”

Moroni told him that he was to return in one year without fail and when he said the date he spoke as if speaking of the precision of a heavenly calendar, the timing of his next visit calculated in the heavens and fitted carefully into the hour glass of eternity. Joseph was to return here next September 22nd and no other day would suffice. He was to come back in twelve months time, precisely on the same day, telling him that Joseph was not prepared to receive the record—he had much to learn and much to do before it was entrusted to him. The day when God would awaken to a remembrance of his covenants with Israel and set his hand a second time to gather his people was about to commence. Moroni said, “The time appointed since before the foundation of the earth to bring forth this record of the covenants comes quickly and then you will have these plates of gold.”

A bright conduit opened in the air like the drawing back of an invisible curtain and Moroni departed up into it, the brilliance gathering around him until Joseph was left standing beside the opened stone box with only the dullness of the mid day sun to illuminate the precious relics that lay at his feet. This small plot of rich, grassy soils in up state New York held treasure far richer than the greatest discoveries on earth and it was no wonder Satan was about this countryside, spreading rumors of riches buried beneath the ground. What a fool he was to believe the stories of money diggers. Spanish Invaders and British soldiers from the revolution didn’t bury these records. They were sacred relics left here by the prophet Moroni before he passed from this life and Joseph was just now beginning to understand his part in this ancient story.

Joseph ran the toe of his boot along the edge of the box and let the possibilities of the past rise up from inside this stone arc like an ancient voice from the dust rising out of the ground. He’d been called to do a work. What was it that Moroni called it last evening? Translate. That was it. Joseph was called to the work of translating this ancient record, but not now, not until the day when God would awaken to a remembrance of his covenants with Israel and set his hand a second time to gather his people. That’s what he called it—a remembrance of his Covenants with Israel. He didn’t entirely understand what that meant, but if Moroni wanted him to come looking for this book of plates atop this drumlin next September 22nd, then that’s exactly what he’d do. One year from today Joseph was to come back and collect the gold record and begin the work of translation. He was a seventeen year old lad with no more schooling than what he gleaned from Mother’s winter reading and writing lessons around the hearth when she taught him his letters, but he had no other choice than to do as Moroni instructed. In one short evening his entire life was turned on its head. Yesterday Joseph was the fourth son of a wheat farmer. Today he was a modern-day Moses.

Joseph lifted the capstone on its edge, leveraging it out of the grass with help from a gnarled tree branch, the side of the flat stone balanced on the edge of the ancient box. He steadied the capstone, his shoulder pressed against the rough surface and his hands holding it back from falling into place and allowing him one more examination of the treasures. The codex of brass sat in the corner directly below his right boot, the tarnished record overshadowed by the brilliance of the gold plates, the wonder of the silver spectacles, the allure of the spherical metal compass and the might of the ancient sword kept bright these many years. What he didn’t know was that the brass record was the link tying him to a story that began two thousand four hundred twenty one years before when the codex was guarded in the vaults of Captain Laban’s treasury and Moroni’s visit made Joseph part of that ancient story. Joseph slowly tipped the capstone into place, shutting away the brass plates inside their ancient hiding place with a loud clap of stone on stone like the thunder atop Sinai at the first celebration of ha-Zikkaron and sealing Joseph’s destiny with them.

Joseph Smith Jr. was the prophet of a Latter-Day of Remembrance.

__________________________
Join author David G. Woolley at his Promised Land Website.

On This Night

2008-09-21T20:00:00.013-06:00

by David G. Woolley

Editor's note: The Top of the Morning staff is pleased to announce a week-long celebration of the Day of Remembrance. Over the coming nine days author David G. Woolley will release a number of posts beginning tonight on the anniversary of Moroni's visit to Joseph Smith leading up to the Jewish celebration of the Day of Remembrance (Ha-Zikaron) on Monday, September 29th. We hope you'll join us for a week of celebrating the Day of Remembrance.

For three years young Joseph Smith Jr. believed his initial vision of God the Father and Jesus Christ in the maple groves behind the family cabin was for him and him alone. On this night one hundred eighty five years ago Joseph was yanked from that thinking when an angel named Moroni appeared to him in his bedroom cabin loft and told him that God had a work for him to do (Joseph Smith History 1:33).

Joseph likely didn’t tell his family about his First Vision until after Moroni's appearance three years later. He spoke to his mother immediately after he returned home from the maple groves in 1820 and when she inquired about his evident weakness (he was leaning against the fireplace) he said, “Never mind all is well—I am well enough off.” The only information he shared with his mother was that he knew her Presbyterianism was not true. It wasn’t until three years later during the 1823 angelic visions of Moroni where Joseph is commanded to tell his father did the family start to become aware of Joseph’s visions.

In the preliminary manuscript of Lucy’s personal memoirs—what she later titled Biographical Sketches in its final edition—she wrote that Joseph took his questions over which church to join to Moroni in 1823 when in reality it was Jesus Christ three years earlier in the maple groves behind their Palmyra cabin who answered those questions for Joseph Smith (Lucy Smith, Preliminary Manuscript, Lucy describes a family conversation where she mistakenly confuses Joseph’s first vision with Moroni’s appearance and connects it with the statement that there is not a true church upon the earth, see page 40).

Lucy also wrote that it was Moroni who told him that the churches on the earth were all “man made churches”. In the final draft of her personal history Lucy abandoned her account of Joseph’s visions and instead quoted directly from her son’s account (Lucy Smith, Biographical Sketches, p 80-86). Joseph’s brother, William Smith, was likely repeating the account he heard from Lucy when he made the same mistake. Joseph’s silence about his First Vision in 1820 followed three years later by the sharing of his visionary encounters with the angel Moroni prevented Lucy and William from “getting the story right”. What is right is that Moroni's visit set in motion the coming forth of the Book of Mormon, a marvelous work and a wonder prophesied by Isaiah.

This excerpt from the opening chapters of Day of Remembrance, a scene between Joseph and his mother Lucy, captures the moment on the evening of September 21st, 1823, in the hours leading up to Moroni's appearance.

“Reverend Lane never had nothing good to say about visions.” Joseph kept his head down and worked his fork over the empty plate. “Said if there were anything to know about heaven or hell the good Lord would have made it known to the apostles when they were penning the gospels. That’s what he told me. Said visions were of the devil, that there was no such thing as revelations in these days; that all such things ceased with the apostles and there never would be anymore of them.”

Lucy said, “When did you last speak with the man?”

“It’s been a few years. Not long after…” Joseph played with his spoon.

“Not long after what?”

“The morning I told you I knew your Presbyterianism wasn’t right. Do you remember? It was in the spring during maple harvest, three years back. I can never forget it, mother.” Joseph slowly shook his head. “I went out into the grove for a time to pray over the matter and…”

“What is it, Joseph?”

“I came inside and leaned against the stone…” He tipped his head toward the bricks in the hearth. “You were worried, you said I looked tired and I told you I’d found out for myself that your Presbyterianism wasn’t right.”

“What you told me was that I should never mind—that you were well enough off.” Lucy leaned over the table. “I can’t keep never minding, son. Not when men like Reverend Lane speak ill of you. Heaven knows you spent a good deal of time with the man. You were preparing to join his congregation before you lost interest and he started speaking ill of—

“I didn’t lose interest, Mother.” Joseph raised his gaze from staring at his empty plate. “I told Reverend Lane that none of the religious sects were right, not a single one and I told it to the good Deacon and the Minister as well.”

“Mercy, Joseph.” Lucy let go of the sash around her sleeping gown. “No wonder Reverend Lane has nothing good to say about you.” She reached across the table and took him by the hand. “What on earth possessed you to say such a thing?”

Joseph took back his hand and sat rigid on the bench, his shoulders straight and his head down. He’d not told Mother any of the details of his vision three years before in the maple groves behind the log cabin. That was back when he was thinking serious of joining with Reverend Lane’s congregation in Palmyra. No one but the good Reverend knew he’d found a secluded spot among the trees, over where Papa left an axe in one of the stumps and offered a simple prayer, asking heaven for wisdom to know which church of all the churches he should join.

It was a personal vision, meant for him and him alone and it wasn’t right to go about sharing it with anyone and hopefully Reverend Lane didn’t break his promise and share it with the other preachers in town. A minister of the gospel wasn’t to share the conversion of a congregant and there was no greater story of conversion than what Joseph received back when he was a young lad of fourteen. It was on a beautiful clear morning early in the spring of 1820, the same week they were harvesting maple syrup from the grove. If Reverend Lane were an honorable man he wouldn’t speak of what Joseph shared with him in confidence. Wasn’t that what ministers were for—to hear the confessions of their parishioners and help them find God?

Joseph pushed back from the table, his head still down and his shoulders forward. He’d confided his conversion to Reverend Lane, told him he’d found God in the middle of a maple grove and instead of congratulating him for seeking a spiritual witness from heaven, the man had nothing good to say about his vision. Joseph told him he’d received a promise that his sins were forgiven and Reverend Lane told him that no one but God could forgive sins. Joseph told him he’d been blessed with an intense feeling of joy that filled his soul and lasted for a good many weeks after his vision and Reverend Lane told him that he was deluded by an unbridled heart. Why did Mr. Lane treat his vision with such contempt? The man was Joseph’s minister, shepherding him into the faith of the Methodists and it was only right he share the experience with the man. That’s what Reverend Lane told him he should do and he had Joseph promise to share his conversion in preparation for membership in his church, but when he told the good minister that God the Father and his son Jesus Christ appeared to him in a grove of trees behind their log cabin, forbidding him to join any of the sects, the Reverend called Joseph a fool like all the other foolish seekers and revivalists in the region. He accused Joseph a diviner, said his vision was the work of the devil and he was like all the other uneducated folk in the county and if he didn’t repent of this awful sin and never speak of it again he’d end up in hell with all the other money diggers, visionaries and spirit seekers.

Joseph let go his hold on the table, the rough timbers brushing his fingertips. He’d actually seen a light and in the midst of that light he’d seen two personages and they did in reality speak to him, telling him that the professors of religion in Palmyra drew near to God with their lips but that their hearts were far from him. And though Reverend Lane hated and persecuted him for saying he’d seen a vision, yet it was true and he could not deny it.

Joseph left the dirty plate and glass on the table and turned toward the ladder leading up the wall to the loft above the kitchen. He said, “I’m fine, Mother.”

“Fine?” Lucy set her hands on her hips. “That’s not the report I heard from Reverend Lane.”

Joseph turned on the first rung in the ladder, his thick arms holding him up off the floor. “What did he say about me?”

“That you were given to loud laughing in the company of jovial men. That you were always out late at night after dark and you were given to telling lies that were certain to damn your soul.” Lucy came around the table and took Joseph by the arm. “Tell me the man isn’t right, tell me I haven’t lost my son.”

“Don’t worry yourself, Mother.”

“What is it, Joseph? Is everything well with you?”

Joseph pulled himself up to the second rung in the ladder. It had been three years since he’d felt the joy of the vision in the maple grove behind the house—a vision that was his personal conversion, assuring him his sins were forgiven and telling him to join with no other sects. He was an outcast, deprived of attending church meetings with his mother and the rest of his brothers and sisters. He wanted to get religion too—wanted to feel and shout like the rest—but he couldn’t. God had forbidden him and unless he was given more direction he would forever remain an outcast.

Maybe Reverend Lane was right, maybe he’d become what the Methodists called converts who returned to their sins. Had he become a backslider? In the three years since his vision Joseph mingled with all sorts of society and jovial company, but at least the money diggers and uneducated farm hands in the county could be counted as friends—something the good Reverend would never be. There was only one thing Joseph could do. He started up the ladder to the loft above the kitchen and Lucy’s hand fell away from his arm. He had to find some forgiveness of his sins, but before he disappeared from Mother’s view beyond the rafters in the ceiling he repeated what he told her the morning he returned from his vision in the maple grove three years ago.

“Never mind, Mother. I’m well enough off.”

__________________________
Join author David G. Woolley at his Promised Land Website.

Coming Next Week: Celebrating Ha-Zikaron

2008-09-19T14:55:00.002-06:00

Editor's Note: The Top of the Morning staff is pleased to announce that beginning this coming Monday, September 22nd, the anniversary of Joseph Smith's annual visits with the resurrected prophet Moroni, and ending one week later on Monday, September 29th, the ancient Jewish Feast of Trumpets celebrated on ha-Zikaron, author David G. Woolley will present a week-long series of posts titled Celebrating the Day of Remembrance (ha-Zikaron). A special introductory post titled On This Night will appear Sunday evening, September 21st.

Join us for a week of celebration with posts commemorating this holiday season including The Feast of Trumpets, The Timing of Heaven Part II, The Gathering, Moroni, Sariah's Dream, the Brass Plates and more.

Until then, Top of the Morning to all.

__________________________
Join author David G. Woolley at his Promised Land Website.

The Tenth Leper

2008-09-19T07:00:00.000-06:00

Editor's Note: The Top of the Morning staff has updated the Borders and I Am a Man posts with some stunning video footage. Be sure to have a look. Your Book of Mormon reading will have that much more impact. Each video presentation is about three minutes in length.

Jennie Hansen, LDS Fiction Critic, posted her review of author David G. Woolley's latest release in the Promised Land Series, Day of Remembrance at Meridian Magazine, an LDS online magazine. Her review is posted here at the Top of the Morning for your convenicence.

And this weekend stop by for the latest post from author David G. Woolley. The Tenth Leper and a deeper look at this James Christensen painting.

Until then, Top of the Morning to all.

__________________________
Join author David G. Woolley at his Promised Land Website.

LDS Fiction to Fall For

2008-09-19T06:00:00.008-06:00

Editor's Note: The Top of the Morning staff is pleased to post LDS Fiction Critic Jennie Hansen's review of Day of Remembrance that appeared Friday, September 19th at Meridian Magazine, an LDS online magazine. Her review is posted below for your convenience.

LDS Fiction to Fall For
By Jennie Hansen

Those of us who were enthralled by David G. Woolley's first three books of the Promised Land series were excited to learn that a fourth volume, Day of Remembrance, was to be released this month. Five years has been a long time to wait; ironically Day of Remembrance is about time, the time of the Lord.

There are three separate stories contained in this volume, all linked together by the Day of Remembrance, a significant date on the Jewish calendar also know as Rosh Hashannah, ha-Zikkaron, ha-Teurah, Feast of Trumpets, or the Jewish New Year. This is a day set aside to remind men of their covenants with God and to remind God of his promises or covenants with his children.

The first story continues the story of Lehi, his family, and a few close friends in the sixth century before Christ, hiding in the wilderness, waiting for the day when the Lord tells them to continue on their journey. Instead of continuing the journey, the Lord instructs Lehi to send his sons back to Jerusalem for the brass plates. This is not a simple matter for multiple reasons; Labon claims the ancient records as proof of his birthright to rule and guards them with fierce determination, political intrigue is rampant in the city, Lehi and all of his family are wanted by the military and elders of the city, and the brass plates will not be complete until Jeremiah's pages are added to the codex. A collision of motives and intrigue bears down on the Day of Remembrance.

The second story is that of a father and daughter, Hassidic Jewish refugees from Russia who have come to Jerusalem in the nineteenth century to escape the persecution of Jews in that land. And it's the story of a Sephardic father and son who live above the ancient ruins of Laban's treasury. It's also the story of a young man and woman's desire for marriage, the kind of marriage meant to last for eternity as promised in the old covenants. They met on the Day of Remembrance and vow to marry on the next Day of Remembrance.

The third story is that of a young farm boy in upstate New York who asks God which church he should join. His quest unleashes a fury of hate and persecution leading up to one more Day of Remembrance.

David Woolley is a storyteller who lends not only his aptitude for storytelling to Day of Remembrance, but he is also an historian with a master's degree from the University of Iowa and a doctorate from Brigham Young University . Together these two aspects of his background produce meticulously researched physical and spiritual details to enrich his writing. The story is compelling, but the interwoven day to day picture that is painted of historic events and the everyday business of life brings the story a depth of reality not often found with such richness in historical fiction. The footnotes found at the back of the book are interesting and verify his research.

Major characters are well-developed, the plot has an even flow, and the copy editing is pretty near perfect, all-in-all, it might be called a quality product, certainly a reading pleasure. Even the background details are a fascinating education. But more than that, Day of Remembrance provides an intense spiritual journey for the reader. Because Woolley doesn't go back and pick up many details from the previous books, but just jumps into the story, readers may want to go back to the earlier books to refresh their memories, but even without reading or reviewing the earlier books, this one is a satisfying read.

As I read this book several refrains ran through my mind, first the well-known verse from Ecclesiastes 3:1, “To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven,” and Alma the Younger's words to his son, Helaman concerning the brass plates which were incorporated into the golden plates that they would be “kept and preserved by the hand of the Lord until they should go forth unto every nation.” I was left pondering the reasons God instructed his ancient prophets in the natural laws concerning the calendar and time and those things yet to come to pass according to God's time and covenants. I also checked the calendar to see when the Day of Remembrance falls this year. My calendar places that significant date as September 29, beginning at sundown. This is a novel that entertains, then does much more, and one I highly recommend.

__________________________
Join author David G. Woolley at his Promised Land Website.

I Am a Man

2008-09-16T07:00:00.003-06:00

Day of Remembrance Released Today

2008-09-09T07:00:00.008-06:00

by David G. Woolley

*Notes from the Top of the Morning Staff: We interrupt our regularly scheduled blogging to let you know that Day of Remembrance is released in bookstores today, Tuesday, September 9th.

The Promised Land Online Book Club is already receiving reader commentary, reviews and questions. Join other readers from around the world right here and read what they're writing about Day of Remembrance.

Day of Remembrance takes place during twenty eight days in September and author David G. Woolley is also releasing a series of fascinating September posts related to the historical events dramatized in volume four and the coming forth of the Book of Mormon. We're pleased to announce that all of David's September Day of Remembrance posts will appear here at the Top of the Morning and the Promised Land Website first, before they're released in any other media.

Until then, Top of the Morning to all.

__________________________
Join author David G. Woolley at his Promised Land Website.

Ancient Pottery Points to Christ

2008-09-08T07:00:00.017-06:00

by David G. Woolley

*Editor's Note: This post is part of a weekly series titled the Promised Land where author David G. Woolley sheds his bloggish sensibilities and delves into the research and inspiration behind the characters and story lines of his Book of Mormon Promised Land Historical Fiction Series. This week find out how pottery points to Christ's visit to ancient Nephites at Bountiful.

Clay pots. They were the paper and plastic of the ancient market place. The cupboard of the ancient pantry. The distillery of the ancient winery. The cargo vessel of the ancient trade route. Versatile. Durable. Disposable. If a potter introduced an innovative design it was the beginning of a pottery rush. He had to produce the new pot in mass before others churned out copy cats. There were no intellectual property laws in the ancient Nephite world. No copy right lawyers. There was nothing to protect a potter's invention. They digged their clay, mixed it, formed it, and fired it while demand was high.

Tall pots. Round pots. Painted pots. Engraved pots. Long handles. Stubby handles. No handles. With lids. Without lids. Pouring vessels. Storage vessels. Oil, water and wine vessels. There were even artistic variations for those who could afford a little more than simple common man terra cotta. Kings embalzoned pots with their new royal name and the date of their coronation. The upper class got matching rose petals etched into the sides of their pot collections or an alligator lurking along the base. For the right price you could even have your portrait on a pot, vested in tribal warrior attire, a ring in your nose, a spear in one hand, and a peacock feather in your hair. All that painted onto a pot to hold your most prized possessions---a jade necklace, a jaguar tooth, and maybe a few obsidian blades.

The prevalence of pottery in the archaeological record makes clay pots an ideal artifact for uncovering the ancient past. Its all about distribution. When you throw a rock into a pond, the ripple farthest from the center is likely the first one formed. So it is with pottery. Say you plot on a map where each pot is found. The ones created first are likely those distributed farthest from the central point of origin. They're the ones that traveled to reach the outer most geographic borders of a civilization. (For more about the archeology of pottery you can read a previous Top of the Morning post titled Unlock the Past, Unlock your Soul)

The refuse dump of the ancient world was littered with broken pottery. Ancient home makers went through pots like their modern cohorts go through disposable zip lock bags. It was the environmental concern of millenia past. Archaeologists call the broken pieces potsherds and Nephites, like their brothers in the Old World, recycled everything including broken pottery. Cement filler. Road construction. Mortar. And the most intriguing recycled use for broken pots? At least for the anthropologists and archaeologists it was as a writing medium. Potsherds were the sticky notes and letter head of ancient peoples and if they were used for writing scholars called them ostraca. This excerpt from the epilogue of Power of Deliverance dramatizes the importance of ostraca to researchers searching for the Lakhish letters---broken pottery used for military correspondence written in Lehi's day near Jerusalem.

John was dressed in khaki, pleated pants, a tan shirt and a wide-brimmed African hunting hat his wife gave him the day the expedition sailed from Dover. This was no safari and John was no hunter, but Mrs. Starkey believed anywhere her husband went in search of the ancient past was a jungle, and the hat did have power to shield him from the intense Palestinian sun. Even in winter, its rays had a dizzying effect on the mind after hours in the trenches. The hat cast a shadow over his round cheeks and thin English nose he inherited from his great-grandmother, the Duchess of Yorkshire. If only he’d inherited one-tenth of her estate, he’d have more than enough to continue this dig until he found the evidence he sought. It had to be here, somewhere amid these ruins, and he had two years left to find it—the sponsors had signed on for twenty-four additional months and not a fortnight more.

John turned back to the tent, undid his top button to keep the heat from raising a sweat on his brown, chewed on the end of a horned pipe and read the sign over the door. It was a ritual he observed each day after tea, if it were possible to call it tea. The sign posted over his tent door read: The Wellcome Archaeological Research Expedition to the Near East at Tel ed Duweir—Tel for mound of buried ancient ruins and Duweir for some Dutch explorer of the sixteenth century who had nothing to do with the real significance of this hilltop. This was the ancient site of Fort Lakhish and John L. Starkey was going to prove it to the world. Or at least to his colleagues back at the London Museum of Antiquities. They were sure to appropriate more funding if he could come up with solid evidence from beneath the rubble of centuries, certifying that Tel ed Duweir was the legendary Fort Lakhish.

In the ancient world a potter was vital to the the local economy. Wealthy. Respected. A leader. But despite the potter's station in society they had no idea their work would become prized artifacts sought by modern archaeologists. So prized, in fact, that not creating at least one major character to assume the role of a potter in the Promised Land Series would be an oversight of Titanic proportion. Enter Josiah the Potter and his daughter Rebekah in this excerpt from Pillar of Fire.

Aaron limped past the stone masonry before stopping at the corner to rest on his cane and, as always, study the entrance to the property of Josiah the potter. He always checked the potter’s gate to see if his daughter, Rebekah, stood between the posts, but all he could see was thick black smoke billowing from the kiln chimney. It swirled over the high brick wall surrounding the firing yard, before blowing into the street and filling his eyes with enough bite to force them closed.

Aaron rubbed the smoke from his eyes and checked the gate again. There was no one selling pottery—-"no one” meaning no Rebekah. He could cross the street without risking her seeing him with a cane. He was halfway over when a sharp tingling shot through his feet. Not enough to stop him, but when he reached the other side, the full force of the hurt struck like lightning. The skin on the underside of his feet began to tear. A little at first, then a sharp splitting across the arch. It was a tearing he knew too well. He bent at the waist, bowing his cane to near breaking before falling to his knees like a man in prayer, begging not for relief but for privacy. He’d endured this kind of pain for months in the solitude of home, but never in public. He clutched the nearest cobblestones and let the warm blood ooze between his toes. The pain passed quickly if he held still and let the blood dry.

Another cloud of smoke blew down from the potter’s chimney, thick enough to choke him to tears. He wiped his cheeks and, when the smoke cleared, found himself staring at a dreadfully beautiful sight that stood at the far end of the potter’s wall in front of the gate to the firing yard. Josiah’s daughter toiled in the shifting smoke, arranging pottery on the canopied selling tables. Thank heavens she hadn’t seen him kneeling there. She disappeared inside the gate and returned with a stack of cups. It was like watching an angel do the work of humans. She dressed in a white robe, and had saintly black hair, a cherubic smile and deep jade eyes. But this wasn’t heaven, it was Jerusalem. And there could be no curse more damning than to be seen as less than whole. What woman would have a crippled suitor?

The pain lessened and he stood and spread his weight from heel to toe. His stirring caught Rebekah’s attention. She set down the cups and blinked, clearing her lashes of the ash that settled out of the smoke.

“Good morning.” Rebekah nodded.

Aaron stayed downwind and shouted through the smoke. “Fine pottery you have there.”

“I’m sorry.” Rebekah leaned over the selling tables. “I didn’t hear you clearly.” Her apology echoed off the store fronts like music from a piper’s flute. “What was that, sir?”

Sir? No one had ever called him that before.

“Beautiful pots,” Aaron said.

“They’re cups.” Rebekah raised one through the smoke, glazed to a brilliant polish. “But we do sell pots. Would you like to see one? I have a stack inside the yard. Why don’t you come over and I’ll show you in. You can get a good look at the—”

“I can see fine from here.”

“They’re behind the walls.” She motioned to the gate.

“I’ve heard about them.”

“From Papa, no doubt. He’s proud of his pots. He’s proud of everything he’s created around here.”

“I don’t blame him.” Aaron admired her long black curls and high red cheeks until it wasn’t proper to stare, and then he stared some more. “He has every right to be proud.”

Rebekah cupped her hand to her ear. “Pardon me?”

“I was saying that your father—”

“Oh, he’s gone for the morning. He has council meetings the first of every week.”

The process of digging clay from the earth and molding it into a useful, artistic pot was a powerful metaphor in the ancient world. Isaiah wrote of God as the potter and man as the work of His hands. Richly decorated incense bowls, figurines and other religious symbols were fashioned of clay. Around the time of Christ's appearance to the Nephites, the peoples of ancient Mesoamerica discarded their clay religious artifacts along with their many different religious practices and adopted a single common religious belief. Archeologists have yet to explain this sudden unified change. It seems some catastrphic event may have triggered the unexplainable religious change. Use of a clay religious drinking bowl spread across the whole of Mesoamerica. LDS scholars suggest it may have been used for centuries, beginning around 35 A.D. as part of the sacrament instituted by Christ when he appeared to the Nephites. It was a simple drinking bowls wihtout any adornments, etchings or paintings. The origin of distribution for what may have been ancient Christian sacramental drinking bowls points to here. Coatzacoalcos.

View Larger Map

Most LDS scholars agree that this gulf coast area on the north/east side of the narrow neck of land known as the Isthmus of Tehuantepec is the location of the Nephite Land of Bountiful. Pull back in the interactive map about five clicks and you'll see the narrow neck isthmus. You'll also see the likely Land of Zarahemla located to the south east near Tuxtla Gutierrez in the Chiapas Central Depression (for more about ancient Nephite geography read the Top of the Morning post titled Borders). The ancient religion established by the God Quetzalcoatl sometime between 30 and 50 A.D. also appears to originate from the same location as did these ancient religious drinking bowls.

In this final excerpt from Day of Remembrance, Nephi uses Isaiah's potter & clay metaphor to ease the concerns of his brother Sam.

River water seeped into the clay pit and pooled around Sam’s ankles. It was a curse that the finest clay stood at the mouth of the canyon. Cool air streamed through two miles of sheer granite walls from the Fountain of the Red Sea and chilled his mud-soaked body. He went to his knees and dug an armful of clay. How did he ever let himself fall this far? He was caravan master of Jerusalem’s finest camel herd not a clay digger. They should be trafficking in gold, or silver, or olive oil—anything but mud. Sam pealed a layer of red earth off his fingers. Mucking through clay was nothing like reading maps and plotting a course across the deserts of Sinai. He was neither a clay digger nor a potter, but in this forsaken valley there was nothing to trade. All of Sam’s training—the years he studied in the map room, apprenticed in the animal corrals and drove the camel herd over the trade routes to Egypt—was wasted unless he returned home where his skills and business sense were sure to win him a comfortable life.

He wrapped his arms around himself to warm him against the chilling breeze. “We never should have come here.” His body began to tremble. “Father’s a dreamer and he led us to the land of his dreams to die.”

Nephi said, “He’d never do that to us.”

“You best get used to this place, son.” Hagoth pulled himself out of the pit. “Otherwise your father’s dreams will become your nightmare.”

“Papa.” Moriah waved his hand at the boat builder. “Let him alone.”

Sam said, “How do you know Lehi isn’t gone mad?”

Nephi said, “You’ve been listening to Laman again.”

“I hear what Father says. He doesn’t know where we’re going from here.”

“See this.” Nephi opened his hand and held out a ball of red mud. “The prophet Isaiah wrote that we’re all clay and God is the potter and we’re the work of His hands.”

“Isaiah didn’t know of this madness.”

“Lehi’s our father. He’s the potter and we’re the clay and a good potter would never lead the work of his hand into this wilderness to die. Lehi brought us here to save us.”

Sam said, “Do you really believe that?”

“I prayed to know if I could trust father.” Nephi pressed the clay into Sam’s hand. “The Lord softened my heart.”

Sam slowly raised his gaze from staring at the clump of clay.

Nephi said, “We were led here by God.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“I was visited by the Holy Spirit.” Nephi leaned closer. “Heaven is watching over us.”

There was no reason Sam should listen to his younger brother—this boy with dark curly hair gone red with a covering of mud. Wasn’t Nephi the same boy who believed Sam when he told him he could climb the olive trees of the old vineyard to get to heaven? But Nephi wasn’t a young boy any longer. Somehow, without Sam noticing, the youngest of all the brothers had become a man. He was always strong and stout beyond his years—a fine wrestler, a hard working soul, and a studious lad—but somewhere in the run of years Nephi had stored up a reservoir of wisdom that was just now beginning to spill out of him. He was the one assigned the tasks about the estate the others refused to take, the funny toddler, the long-legged awkward boy, but this morning he was nothing if not noble, covered with red clay from head to foot and standing with Sam in the middle of this cold clay pit, buoying Sam’s spirits and helping him see what he could not see on his own. For the first time in his life Sam understood that Nephi was more than mother’s youngest child. They were brothers and he couldn’t deny the power of Nephi’s words, his certainty chasing away the confused mix of anger and fear that gripped him since abandoning their inheritance at Jerusalem.

Nephi’s deep brown eyes were filled with the intensity of his words and his steady voice filled Sam with a peace he’d not known since before they left Beit Zayit. A tear burned in Sam’s eye and he quickly brushed it away. He threw the ball of clay to the ground. “I hope there’s a land as fine as the one we left behind.”

“There is, Sam. Somewhere there's a land of promise for us. God doesn’t lie.”
__________________________
Join author David G. Woolley at his Promised Land Website.

Unsportsmanlike Rejoicing

2008-09-07T07:00:00.008-06:00

by David G. Woolley

Some time after Mom married Dad she figured out that quality time together included a six letter word. Sports. The humble beginnings of her indoctrination were polite.

"Why do they allow the batter three misses?"

"They're called strikes, honey."

"Do they always spit like that?"

"Its not spit."

"I really like the color of their blouses."

Baseball was king for dad and Mom made sure the pantry was stocked with plenty of peanuts from May until October. During football season it was chips and salsa. During Wimbledon it was strawberries. When they moved to the Windy City to serve in the Chicago Temple for six years Mom decided that placing Micheal Jordan's name on the prayer roll might be a good game day tradition. Dad told her that wasn't necessary in order for him to consider her a fully fledged fan, but he sure was proud. Mom had finally caught the subtler nuances of the bug.

Its been two years since Dad died. In his memory Mom continues the quality time sports watching tradition. She never misses a game. Cougars. Jazz. Cubs. She's their number one fan. The stats flow from her mind like streaming video. Arm chair quarterbacking takes on a whole new feminine vocality. She talks to the TV, telling the coaching staff exactly what they're doing wrong. She also tells them if the color selection on team blouses needs some half time adjustments.

This weekend it was BYU football at Washington. Gotta love and support those spiritually minded Cougars. Mom's post game commentary is enthusiastic. Its emotionally charged. Its also not Sports-Center-Speak. She's never shed her penchant for polite talk---that endearing non-technical verbiage that personifies her fanaticism. Last night it went something like this:

"Did you see the game, son?"

"I was working. Did the Cougars win?"

"They were ahead 28-21 with a minute to go. Then that fast young man from Washington with the terrible color coordinated navy blue and gold blouse ran right into our end zone. Those Washington boys were jumping up and down and slapping each other on the back and then they threw the ball."

"So Washington went for the win on a two point converstion? Did they score off the pass?"

"No, no, no. They were rejoicing. Its against the rules, you know."

"The two point conversion?"

"When they're happy and they get excited, and they jump up and down and slap each other on the back and throw the ball. It happens all the time. You know, too much rejoicing."

Rejoicing?

It wasn't until the local news broadcast I found out the Cougars were ahead by a touchdown before Washington ran the ball into the end zone with two seconds remaining. Lucky for BYU the referee awarded a penalty when the quarterback threw the ball in celebration. The call pushed the point after kick back to the 35 yard line where the Cougars managed to block the Huskie's P.A.T. attempt and preserve a 28-27 win.

The nightly news had all the facts straight, but I prefer Mom's post game. It adds a softer touch to a sport that has little. If you hear any Huskie fans complaining about the Cougar's lucky win, tell 'em their blouses stink. You can also tell 'em sour grapes. Its on the books. Just ask my mom. NCAA rule 9, section 2, article 1:

Unsportsmanlike rejoicing.

__________________________
Join author David G. Woolley at his Promised Land Website.

Border Update

2008-09-06T07:00:00.004-06:00

Photo: Borders of the Waters of Mormon/Lake Atitlan Guatemala

*Notes from the Top of the Morning Staff:

In order to help you visualize the Borders post we've added some video footage from Journey of Faith, The New World produced by the Foundation for Ancient Research and Mormon Studies (F.A.R.M.S.). You can view the nearly four minute presentation by returning to the Borders post where this footage is tied to the interactive maps.

There's some spectacular cinematic views of the west coast border where Lehi and his family landed and where centuries later the Lamanites attempt to bypass the mountain borders along the coast and attack the Nephites from the north. The Sidon/Grijalva River and the Mountain borders separating Zarahemla/Central Depression from the City of Nephi/Guatemala City are also featured in the video clip. There's also a view of the vast lowland plains north of the City of Nephi which were part of Lamanite coastal territories. We hope you enjoy the updated video links.

Top of the Morning to all
__________________________
Join author David G. Woolley at his Promised Land Website.

The Secret To Happiness...

2008-09-04T07:00:00.021-06:00

by David G. Woolley

...Its hidden in the most unusual places.

If there were a pecking order to death, if the best of us got to stay a little longer, I never would have made it past my tenth birthday. Earth life is a reverse discrimination law suit waiting to happen. It seems those of us who don't get it right the first time are awarded a little extra time. Once again, life isn't fair.

So many good people have gotten up and left this week. Javier and Walfred Rabanales, two kind, gifted, humanitarians took their leave last week in the skies above eastern Guatemala. Over the weekend a Bishop in a neighboring Latter Day Saint congregation returned home from his medical practice, sat down on the front porch and complained to one of his seven children he didn't feel well. A few minutes later he was gone. My brother-in-laws father ran into complications with his asthma. The funeral was Tuesday.

I got a call from a former soccer player yesterday. He was distraught. His father, Craig, an engineering professor at Brigham Young University, lost Monday after a painful battle with cancer. The three of us used to talk soccer and engineering. I was better talking soccer. Free kicks. Referees. Manchester United. I knew just enough engineering to stay in the conversation. Righty tighty, lefty loosy. Its highly technical phraseology for nuts and bolts. Clockwise to tighten, counterclockwise to loosen.

When they came out with those funky reverse threaded screws I was no longer on the engineering cutting edge. Righty was no longer tighty. We had to find something else to talk about.

Craig loved fiction. We talked plots and characters into the wee hours. Thanks Craig. Some of your ingenuity, not to mention your passion for the Book of Mormon, is preserved in the pages of the Promised Land Series. You are missed. Never forgotten.

There's a pop culture poem titled the Man in the Mirror. The opening lines go something like this:

When you get all you want in your struggle for self, and the world makes you king for a day, then go to the mirror and look at yourself and see what that man has to say.

The poem's author remains anonymous. That's unfortunate. I like to know which oyster is responsible for the pearls of wisdom before I buy the necklace. The poem continues:

You've passed your most difficult test if the man in the glass is your friend.

I don't doubt that making peace with yourself has merit. If you can't live with yourself, who can? But when did looking in the mirror become the secret to happiness? The Jews who heard Christ deliver the Sermon on the Mount didn't run to the reflective waters of the Galilee for a therapy session. No encounter groups. No psycho analysis.

If you're looking for some peace of mind, if you're searching for the meaning of life, if, by your toil, you're building a memorial for future generations, the instructions are pretty clear. Lose yourself in service to others and you'll find the secret.

To those who passed from this life during the week, thanks for reminding us mortals. Less looking in the mirror. More looking out for each other.

Happiness, it turns out, has always been a vicarious undertaking.

__________________________
Join author David G. Woolley at his Promised Land Website.

Whose Image?

2008-09-02T07:00:00.025-06:00

*Notes from the Top of the Morning staff:

Thanks for joining us this week after the terrible loss of Javier and Walfred Rabanales in the Guatemalan plane crash.

We hope we didn't start this week off with a far too geo-technical post. We know our readers. They're a pretty smart bunch. Borders touches lightly on the work of nearly thirty Book of Mormon scholars. We didn't do a lot of depth on any specific Book of Mormon location, but there is lots of width. Wasn't Alma the intrepid hiker/traveler/missionary? We hope you glean some introductory insights from Borders. We're sure we'll revist each of those locations in detail over the coming years.

We have a host of other posts coming at you this week including an enjoyable one titled Unsportsmanlike Rejoicing. And we're planning a video link update to the Borders post you won't want to miss. Also this week a bonus Promised Land post titled: Ancient Pottery Points to Christ. Next up is a post titled The Secret to Happiness.

And next week, taking a lead from this week's Secret to Happiness post, its another Promised Land series post titled Whose Image? where author David G. Woolley takes a look at this jade Mayan mask and how it may be related to Alma's question: Have ye received his image in your countenances? (Alma 5:14)

Until then, Top of the Morning to all.

__________________________
Join author David G. Woolley at his Promised Land Website.

Borders

2008-09-01T07:00:00.017-06:00

by David G. Woolley

*Editor's Note: This post is part of a weekly series titled the Promised Land where author David G. Woolley sheds his bloggish sensibilities and delves into the research and inspiration behind the characters and story lines of his Book of Mormon Promised Land Historical Fiction Series. This week it's ancient borders.

The Northern Hejaz. That's what Arabs call these towering peaks and deep gorge-like valleys. For centuries nomadic kin-group tribes carved out their sheikdoms here. We call them mountains. Ancient sheiks called them Borders. Nephi was even more distinguishing, calling them Borders near the Red Sea and Borders nearer the Red Sea. It was a word so descriptive of the territorial nature of geographic landmarks that it endured for millenia. An elegant word choice by Book of Mormon scribes born of the dual nature of these mountains. They were the dominating feature of the land. They were also the territorial boundaries of nomadic kingdoms.

Hejaz translates literally as partition or barrier, but since sheiks in these mountains determined the limits of their kingdoms by claiming territory that fell within view, the word Borders is the preferred translation. The lands as far as a sheik could see from one ridge to the next became soverign territory. The lands beyond view were left to the claims of neighboring sheiks. (Joseph Catafago, “Arabic-English Dictionary.” See also: The New Roget’s Thesaurus, Revised Edition, ed. Norman Lewis, “Boundary,” 49).

In this interactive topographical map you can see the split nature of the Northern Hejaz. At the top of the map near the city of Aquaba the coastal mountain chain and the inland mountain chain appear as one. Zoom in a little closer and you'll see a fairly distinct separation of the two chains where the ancient trade route once ran and where a modern highway runs today between Al-Humaydah and Al-Bad. The coastal chain runs along the east shores of the Gulf of Aquaba before ending near the southern extreme of the gulf. The inland chain continues further south, veering eastward and mixing into the brownish yellow desert sands of central Saudi Arabia.

View Larger Map

Nephi was likely referring to these border mountains when detailing the route his family followed to the Valley of Lemuel:

And he came down by the borders near the shore of the Red Sea; and he traveled in the wilderness in the borders which are nearer the Red Sea; and he did travel in the wilderness with his family, which consisted of my mother, Sariah, and my elder brothers, who were Laman, Lemuel, and Sam (1 Nephi 2:5).

Right here in a previous post titled An Ancient Setting for the Tree of Life you can read about the Valley of Lemuel in the Northern Hejaz pictured below. A river runs through the wadi known as Tyib al Ism, cutting a deep canyon through the Hejaz and emptying into the Gulf of Aquaba.

Nephi recorded that they called the name of the river, Laman, and it emptied into the Red Sea; and the valley was in the borders near the mouth thereof (1 Nephi 2:8). Go back and take a look at the interactive map and you'll notice that the southern half of the coastal chain of the Hejaz drops directly into the gulf waters just as Nephi described. Wadi Tayib al Isam is located directly east across the gulf from the Wadi Dahab (Click in a little closer to find the present day names).

The British explorer David Hogarth wrote that "During the British occupation of these territories, military mapmakers used the name Northern Hejaz in their maps, journals, and geogrpahic explorations as the proper name for the range (David George Hogarth, “Hejaz before World War I, a Handbook”). Its no wonder that scholar Hugh Nibley complained that somewhere between Joseph Smith's dictation of the proper name for these mountains to his scribes, Oliver Cowdery and Emma Smith, and the subsequent editing by the printer of the Book of Mormon, E.B. Grandin, the name was reduced to a lower case noun. The uppercase usage of Borders implies the proper name for this mountain range, while the lowercase usage connotes any geographic boundary, desert, plateau, or wadi. Who in 19th century Palmyra knew?

Hejaz are not limited to only mountains. Any geographic barrier or partition that acts as a boundary between different geographic climes, establishes territorial rights, or separates people of different languages or cultures acts as a Hejaz. The wide sweeping deserts of central and southern Saudi Arabia separating the inland cities of Mecca and Medina from the Red Sea. The Judean Wilderness. The Andes. The Colorado River's Grand Canyon. The Sahara Desert. The Mississippi River. The Gulf coast. The Himalayas. The Florida Everglades. These are only a few of the world's notable Borders.

The Book of Mormon is filled with Borders, all of them notable Nephite landmarks. based on my research, it appears that Nephi and his descendants in the New World continued using the term as it was used in the Old World.

The following three and a half minute video clip begins with an aerial view of the south west coast of Guatemala, the location where Lehi and his family likely made their landing in the New World. They called this coastal area the Land of First Inheritance. It was also along this coast where Lamanites attempted to circumvent the inland border mountain chains surrounding the Chiapas Central Depression and attack Nephite lands from a northly position. This introductory video clip from Journey of Faith, The New World produced by the Neal A. Maxwell institute's Foundation for Ancient Research and Mormon Studies, provides excellent footage of mountain, river, sea and swamp borders in northern Guatemala and southern Mexico along with commentary by LDS scholars about Lehi's arrival to Mesoamerican and the geography they likely encountered.

This interactive map of southern Mexico and Northern Guatemala below details what scholars call the Chiapas Central Depression. Its that light green area in the center of the map with a long finger-like body of water behind the Angostura Dam. This depression is what scholars believe is the most likely location of the Land of Zarahemla and the mountains surrounding the Central Depression are the Borders of the Land of Zarahemla.

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During Alma's missionary circuit of the greater Land of Zarahemla's Central Depression (Alma 6-16), he ascended the slopes near the headwaters of the Sidon River in the south east Borders to Gideon somewhere near present day Guadalupe (click in closer to find Guadalupe on your map). Next he headed north west through the higher elevations of the Borders to avoid the deep gorges at lower elevations and preached in the Land of Melek located in the Central Depression's south west coastal mountains near present day Sierra Madre de Chiapas (two clicks gets you close enough to find the present day location).

Alma left Melek and traveled to the most storied city of his mission excursion, the Northern Borders of the infamous city of Amonihah near present day Las Mercedes, the city where he befriended Amulek. He finished his approximately 6 month mission by heading through the upper mountain elevations of the Central Depression's extreme north west borders to Noah. He never reached Aaron located somewhere in the mountains further north of Noah as he had planned. Alma then descended the slopes to Sidom in the Sidon River Valley near present day Tuxtla Gutierez. Instead of returning home along the Sidon River through difficult-to-traverse cross canyons and gorges, he headed up into the mountains along the north east Borders of the Central Depression following the ancient trade route of his day before descending to Zarahemla near the head waters of the Sidon.

Beneath the waters of the Angostura Dam lay the ancient ruins of Santa Rosa, the most likely site for the City of Zarahemla. Before it was covered with water, archeologists determined that the city was home to two different kin groups. One group migrated up stream into the Central Depression Borders from the gulf coast some time between 550 B.C. and 300 B.C., bringing with them their customs and their Zoquen language--a language that survived from the Olmec/Jaradite tradition and influenced languages along the same gulf coast borders until the arrival of the Spanish armies. Moroni is a Zoquen/Jaradite name meaning "one from Moron", the Jaredite capital.

The second language group populating Zarahemla migrated there from Guatemala City, the most likely site for the City of Nephi, entering the Central Depression near the headwaters of the Sidon River south eastern Border mountains. This group spoke one of the ancient Mayan dialects and brought with them their highland Guatemalan customs and religious beliefs. These two groups joined together, sharing government power and religious practices. A plaza stands in the temple center of Santa Rosa where ancient inhabitants laid down two distinct types of gravel with a line down the center in remembrance of the coming together of these two distinct language groups. Scholars believe these groups are the ancient Mulekites and Nephites mentioned in the Book of Mormon.

The headwaters of this major river, the Grijalva, gathers in the Borrder mountains in the south east quarter of the Central Depression, flowing north east past the ruins of Santa Rosa. At about the 2:47 minute mark in the video featured above you get a bird's eye view of the Grijavla/Sidon river. The main branch continues north east out of the Central Depression and runs through swampy coastal plain Borders in lands the Book of Mormon calls the most principal parts of Nephite territory where major Nephite cities were located before emptying into the Gulf of Mexico. In the above photo you're in the middle portion of the river, leaving the Central Depression and heading through the difficult-to-traverse gorges near Tuxtla Gutierrez/Sidom on the way down river to the swamp infested coastal regions of Nephite territory.

At Guatemala City scholars have uncovered these ruins known as Kaminaljuyu, the most likely location for the City of Nephi.

In the interactive map below you can find Guatemala City/Nephi in the lower right hand corner. Notice the nearly two hundred miles of difficult-to-travel Borders separating the City of Nephi from the Central Depression/Land of Zarahemla in the upper left hand corner of the map. It took Mosiah and his people about twenty one days to negotiate the 225 miles of this mountain wilderness. Book of Mormon authors referred to these mountains as wilderness and also as the Borders of the Land of Zarahemla and the Borders of the Land of Nephi depending upon how close you are to Nephite or Lamanite territory. Only a single known route in the higher elevations allowed for unhindered northward-southward travel and the modern Guatemalan highway CA1 follows that ancient route. No wonder this mountainous Border wilderness served as an excellent barrier between ancient Nephite and Lamanite civilizations.

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Moroni hid his spies and positioned his forces in these mountain Borders . Alma built the city of Helam here. The preists of King Noah escaped into these Borders. Outside of Helam, there was little arable land capable of supporting a sizable population. Small nomadic groups and warrior bands roamed these Borders, hunting and eating off the land, but large populations and armies could not survive in these mountains without food supplies.

The Lamanites twice attempted to surprise the Nephites by travelng along this west coast Border beach and attacking the Nephites from the north by way of the northern coastal mountain borders. This video clip begins with a view of this west coast border shoreline running from Gautemala into southern Mexico. The Lamanites were never able to penetrate Nephite territory beyond Amonihah. They likely ran out of food supplies.

Converts were baptized in the shadow of these volcanic Borders on Lake Atitlan. I, Alma, having been consecrated by my father, Alma, to be a high priest over the church of God, he having power and authority from God to do these things, behold, I say unto you that he began to establish a church in the land which was in the Borders of Nephi; yea, the land which was called the land of Mormon; yea, and he did baptize his brethren in the waters of Mormon (Alma 5:3).

In this interactive map below you'll find that south of Guatemala City (the City of Nephi) you descend onto the plains of Shemlon and Shilom before arriving at Lake Atitlan, the most likely candidate for the Waters of Mormon and the adjacent Land of Mormon. King Noah built a tower to see down through these descending valleys.

If you examine the map closely, you'll find a flood plain across the lake from Durazno at the base of a volcano. The ruins on this plain are the most likely site for the City of Jerusalem. The plains were flooded and abandoned about the time of Christ's coming to America and the Book of Mormon records that waters came up into the City of Jerusalem, likely due to the underground aquifers tied to the volanic activity at this site. The lake is known to rise over 16 feet during volcanic activity. From the map you can see why the mountain range running along the north side of Lake Atitlan would prompt Alma to write that the land of Jerusalem on the south east flood plain and the Land of Mormon on the north west side of the lake shared a common mountain range, likely volcanic based on the description of destruction given in Third Nephi. These volcanoes were impressive Borders to ancient Nephites carrying powerful religious symbolism.

Book of Mormon authors viewed their Borders, the mountains, rivers, and sea coasts in their lands, as both territorial boundaries and physcial geographic land marks. The land of Lehi and neighboring Morianton were bounded on everyside by these swamp infested Borders--gulf coast estuaries which limited travel to a single inland north south trail or along the beaches of the gulf coast.

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The land of Melek was nestled in the Borders of these west coast mountains. They were imprssive barriers and provided Nephite territories with protection from invasion throughout six hundred years of occupation of the Central Depression.

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The City of Sidom, one of the largest trade and commercial centers among the Nephites along with the City of Nephihah further down stream on flat coastal land, was located down river from Zarahemla, set among the Borders of steep canyon gorges of the middle elevations of the Sidon river. The photo of the Grijalva River/Sidon River above was taken near this Sidom location.

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The Land of Bountiful stood on the narrow neck Border of the Isthmus of Teutantipec. If you pull back a few clicks from this view you can see the entire isthmus of the narrow neck zone. The narrow pass where Moroni headed off Morinaton's attempt to relocate his people to the Land of Many Waters north of this isthmas is a high ridge plateau with a single narrow V-shaped canyon. The only north south route that is passable in both the wet and dry seasons of the year leads through this north south Border. It is a narrow border pass that is located along the north gulf shore of this isthmus of Teutantipec.

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The Hill Cumorah is located in this small gulf coast chain known as the Tuxtla Mountians. After Lamanite invaders drove the Nephites from their cities in the Central Depression and the lower coastal regions around 375 A.D., through a series of military advances and withdrawals they eventually evacuted to these mountains. Scholars believe they were traped here between Lamanite agressors from the south and Lamanite trading and miliatry allies, the people of Teotihuacan, from the lands northward. Without a means of escape, the final Nephite battles, as well as the final Jaradite battles, took place in these Borders. The Nephite records were buried here along with the Gold plate record of the Book of Mormon until Moroni removed it from among the vast collection and carried it north to what would one day be 19th century Palmyra New York. Cumorah was a little further north west up the gulf coast from Bountiful and south of the lake Border region known as the Land of Many Waters.

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The Land of Zarahmela, though not located near the principal territories under Nephite control, was the crown jewel of the kingdom. The seat of government power and home of religious worship was located in what the Book of Mormon calls the heart of Nephite lands and it was protected from invasion high in these Chiapas Mountains near the headwaters of the Sidon.

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At first reading the use of the word Borders in the Book of Mormon appears awkward. But a short lesson in ancient Book of Mormon geography provides a clearer picture of the Nephite geographic point of view. Once you begin to understand how river, swamp and ocean Borders defined the different climactic elevations and territories of the Nephite Kingdom, how montain Borders protected the Nephites from invading armies, or why Nephites described nomadic hunter Lamanites living in the mountain Borders as idle covenant breakers for rejecting the dietary restrictions of the Law of Moses, you begin to understand the Nephite perspective that permeates the Book of Mormon. You gain a sense of place, a sense of culture and a sense of civilization. That the events of the Book of Mormon actually occured somewhere in real time involving real people descends on your understanding. You're also better able to do what Nephi did.

Liken the scriptures unto yourself (1 Nephi 19:23).

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Join author David G. Woolley at his Promised Land Website.