Book of Mormon

The Reviews

After a few attempts from young men to visit, The Book of Mormon showed up in my mail box.  Then I did what I infer that the Mormon wards and their publishers do not expect anyone to do:  I read the Book of Mormon.

And now I’m going to review it.

Joseph Smith’s Book of Mormon reads like the author was out to make a name for himself.  And so he did — by re-inventing the Christian wheel and starting a new religion.

My thinking has always been this.  If something isn’t broken, why would you want to fix it?  In the final sentences of the Book of Revelation, Saint John the Divine wrote that no man should add to or take away from anything that was written in his book.

So here comes Smith with a penchant for writing long and winding roads.  He lifts text out of the King James Bible (almost to the letter in many places) from Isaiah, Malachi and Matthew, and couches it in a long, untenable saga.  Smith’s story is so far-fetched and absurd that only a man could have written it.  And just a man.  The Word of God has a distinct signature.  Smith’s writing does not have it.

I cannot accept the story about brass plates and gold plates.  Which is it, Mr. Smith?  Brass or gold?  Nor can I accept the hokey, fabricated-looking names for men and cities in his tale.  None of it reads real.  Where are the back-of-the-book maps that show the travels of these characters?  My Bible sure has them.  Along with names, places and corroborating histories.

Lehi’s people traveled from Jerusalem to somewhere in the new world we now call “The Americas.”  Smith’s book never tells us exactly where.  Nor does it tell us how the Nephite tribe makes it to New England where one of them (Moroni) buries the gold plates for the future Joseph Smith to conveniently find.

Wouldn’t you know that after Smith digs the golden plates up and transposes a language that the text calls “New Egyptian,” that an angel takes the plates away.  How convenient again.  Now Smith doesn’t have to produce tangible evidence of his find.  In lieu of that he gets a bunch of his relatives to sign an oath that they all saw the plates.  This is published in the introduction to the Book of Mormon, which is curious.  Because God’s Word requires neither an introduction nor footnotes.  His Word is as bright as the light of day.  When it hits you – there is no question of what it is or where it’s from.

Why did Smith need metal plates to base his story on?  I think it is because he didn’t get any telepathic downloads.  I think he made up the text as he went along.

In the introduction to the Book of Mormon, one gets the feeling that somebody is bending over backwards to sell you a story.  They leave out the biographical bit, however, about how Joseph Smith’s life ended.  Convenient yet again.  Because according to my extra-scriptural studies, Smith was killed by brother Masons who were angry with him for having married some of their wives.  (Joseph Smith:  Rough Stone Rolling by Richard Lyman Bushman,  http://video.google.com/videoplay?docid=7536721816080207172# )

The part of this rambling yarn that I find most ridiculous is how Smith puts words into the mouth of Jesus Christ.  Smith wrote some loblolly attributed to Jesus in Ether 3:9.  An omnipotent spirit would not need to ask a man what the man had seen.  Because omnipotence already knows.  Smith copy-cats the story of Salame’s dance in Ether 8:10.  There are many such Biblical echo’s throughout his text.

Smith’s writing is lurid and sensational in places.  Some of it reads like pulp fiction.  He goes on for pages about blood-bath battles and forced cannibalism, torture and mass killings.  The Lamanites and Nephites are ever at war.  The text claims that they had built many great cities in the new world.  Yet I have read of no archeological evidence of these places.  According to the Book of Mormon, Lehi and his family sailed to the new world around 600 B.C.

The telling wall for me was how Smith never mentions the OBE (out of body experience).  This is what St. Paul and St. John call “being in the spirit.”  In this disembodied state, they received communication from The Chief.  “I was in the Spirit on the Lord’s day, and heard behind me a great voice…” wrote Saint John the Divine in Revelation 1:10.

There is a similitude between the Bible and Qur’an, for example.  A signature Authority governs both texts.  Any deviation from it in translation is glaringly obvious.  That is because God’s Word, like truth, has a flavor.  It cannot be counterfeited.

Upon turning the last page of the Book of Mormon, I wanted to give Joseph Smith a good, tight slap.

*******************************************************************************

Open Letter to Bill McKeever

Dear Mr. McKeever,

Today while researching the death of Joseph Smith, I chanced across you giving an interview about the incident.  I was impressed with your lecture and found it supportive of my findings.

My encounter with Mormonism happened only last year.  My husband had been called away to Iraq for a year and I was left alone to read more than I would normally read.  During his absence I was visited repeatedly by Mormon Missionaries who tried to get into my house to “talk with me” about their religion.  I rejected all these visits due to my being alone.  They were young men and I felt awkward about having them in the house.  So I opted for “some time in the future.”

In the mean time The Book of Mormon showed up in my mail box.   I read it cover to cover, slog that it was.  Many questions about the text arose as I read.  As they surfaced, I jotted them down for a future meeting with the handsome, neck-tied boys who kept ringing my door bell and calling my phone.

The Book of Mormon did not read to me like the Word of God.  I was raised on the King James Bible and believe that it is the Word without flaw —  not because my elders told me so, but because that’s what it reads like to me.  When you see the truth in print, after having read as many lies as they fed me in college, you see truth ascending  from a flock of crows like the snowy dove that God made it.  There is no confusion about it.  Truth has a distinct flavor.  And God’s Word has a voice.  He gave us a mind to discern truth from falsehood.

The Book of Mormon read to me like a plagiarism of the King James couched in bad fiction.  The Lamanites and Nephites seemed like a saga hatched by Smith.  The text was tiresome in its fictive tone.  The story was geographically untenable and riddled with “made-up-sounding” names for people and places.

God’s Word flows like a symphony that He alone inspires.  That is why satanic people cannot make art.  That is how God sets them apart.  The Word tells us, “By their fruits you will know them.”  So art is one example.  They cannot hide behind their ugly art.  It glares at us like sculpture in danger-orange being foisted from college campuses as modern art.  When clearly it is just an ugly chunk of spray-painted metal.

Such to me is the Book of Mormon. When my husband returned from Iraq, we took the Mormon “elders” to lunch.  Over dessert I began reading them my list of questions.  Their erudite spokesman answered many of these eloquently (boy have they been schooled).  But he couldn’t get off the ground with “where did Nephi and his family strike land?”  How did Smith translate “New Egyptian?”  Where did that language come from?  Didn’t Nephi speak Hebrew or Aramaic?  What happened to those brass (or gold) plates?  Why would an angel take them away?  Why not leave them to posterity?  How did the gold plates get from Central or South America to New England to be buried?  Where are the maps in the back of the book?

Yesterday I came across how Joseph Smith was a freemason.  This triggered a deeper probe into Mormonism.  Masons are notorious for their unGodly ways.  How could a man like this be a Prophet of God?  I had to learn more.  Enter Bill McKeever.

Thanks for the lecture.  It corroborates my findings 100%.  Impressive web site.  We need it out here.  The Mormon Church is spreading their unwholesome cult like a fungus.  I went to their church to wrap up my studies and give their people a chance to voice their version of the Word of God.

I was left with an empty feeling.  There was no sermon.  There was no message.  Just a bunch of teenage girls giving nervous testimony about personal stories up on the stage.  If they did have a sermon, what would  they preach about?  The outlandish, fabricated fables of Joseph Smith the masonic wife-collector?  And the ridiculous words he tried to put into the mouth of Christ?

No wonder their “pastor” dodged me later that morning.  He went into his office and locked the door.  I stood at the door and knocked a while, being full of questions about their ways.  The door was never opened. Then I went to another door and knocked.  It was the “admin” room.  A man let me in.  It took less than five seconds for me to catch him in the first lie.  His credibility is now toast.  A telling wall?

Before that I was in “Sunday School” for a mixed company of adults.  That day’s subject was The Law of Chastity.  A handsome young man was the speaker/teacher of our group.  He immediately lapsed into a zesty discussion of heavy petting.  Some of the middle-aged men were taking too much pleasure asking questions about something that happens to teenagers in the back seat of cars.  They were acting as though it was a great matter of interest.  It seemed to me that these adults were getting their jollies talking about teenage foreplay.  There was no person in the room who needed to hear any of that.  We were all in our 30’s and 40’s.  The talk was foisted from a parenting platform.  I was not a parent and I did not need to learn how to make out in the back seat.  Sounds like something they could have saved for the same-sex groups.  Even then it would have been tacky.  I saw an easy out and excused myself, announcing, “you are making me uncomfortable.”

And that was my experience at the local Mormon Ward/Stake.  Not impressed.  Not going back.  No wonder they call them stakes.  How can they call it a church? *******/////end of text

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