Ye Shall Teach Them to Abhor Such Wickedness: Discussing the Topic of Evil in a Latter-day Saint Context, Part 1: Introduction
I’ve been thinking about it a lot. In my youth, as a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, it seems that every few years there was a change in how lessons on the topic of evil were presented. Sometimes, we were warned not to think about it too much. Our leaders seemed worried that we would spend our time dwelling on evil, making it easier for us to be seduced by it. We were often quoted these words from Alexander Pope’s An Essay on Man:
“Vice is a monster of so frightful mien
As to be hated needs but to be seen;
Yet seen too oft, familiar with her face,1
We first endure, then pity, then embrace.”2
We would be cautioned against the very appearance of evil in our actions, and especially in “the media.” There was a common parable told, the truthfulness of which I’ve never verified, about how agents or officers in training to recognize counterfeit money would not be taught about all the ways the currency could be faked, but instead tirelessly studied every detail of authentic coins and bills so that they would recognize even the slightest deviation from the true pattern. The application was obvious. If we filled our lives with goodness, meticulously coming to know the truth of God in every way, we would be able to recognize when we encountered one of Satan’s deceptions, and thus avoid the pitfall.
And then, for whatever reason, we would make almost a complete pivot into a Sun Tzu like phase where we would receive very serious presentations soaked in militaristic language about the importance of understanding the tactics of the enemy in order to avoid his traps and counteract his strategies.
“If you know the enemy and know yourself, you need not fear the result of a hundred battles. If you know yourself but not the enemy, for every victory gained you will also suffer a defeat. If you know neither the enemy nor yourself, you will succumb in every battle.”3
These words from The Art of War may or may not have been directly quoted, but their essence was felt. I say almost a complete pivot because I doubt we were ever fully told to become acquainted with the devil, but we were definitely taught how essential it was to familiarize ourselves with the way he worked. Then we were to clothe ourselves in the armor of God and go forth to battle.
After this, the pattern would repeat, and we’d go back and forth between the two approaches. I’m not trying to be critical of this. The subject of evil is a tricky one to approach. For one thing, while we all agree that evil is bad (truly the hottest of takes, I know) there’s a lot of disagreement about what it actually entails. Things that seem to be obvious evils to some, others will tout as unqualified good, and if you try to bring the scriptures into it, be prepared to have others flung right back at you, sometimes even the selfsame verses, interpreted in unexpected ways. It’s enough to make one despair of ever being able to tell good from evil. Brother Joseph, famously, could relate.
Secondly, each of the approaches I’ve described has weaknesses that are at least somewhat complemented by the strengths of the other. The “know it when you see it” approach has the obvious requirement to be directed at an actually perfect source. For example, existing customs, cultural assumptions, or institutional practices can go unquestioned if they form the basis of the “true pattern” one is supposed to come to know. In other words, it must be directly God that we strive to know, and not any intermediary, be it prophet, church, or body of published work, because all of these can be corrupted by human imperfection. Even with the correct target, any knowledge we do gain is filtered through our human understanding, and is therefore still likely to be imperfect. By showing us some diabolical devices, the Sun Tzu approach helps to fill in gaps that may exist in our aspirations to righteousness. The counterfeit approach also ignores the fact that many significant sections of scripture seem designed to focus our thinking directly on the specific threats and evil tactics we may face, while others lay bare the evil actions of those who are corrupted or deceived, sometimes as part of the rewards of their evil, and also presumably so we can be watchful for those same evils in our world. We are clearly meant to heed these warnings and be watchful, and not just ignore potential evils until they jump up to bite us. Imagine if medical training consisted entirely of studying idealized human physiology, or if social studies education ignored the failings of the past and just focused on the the times and issues societies got right (oh, wait).
On the other hand, despite its strengths, the Sun Tzu approach risks going too far, both in spirit and in application. In spirit, it can make us overly militant or else overwhelm us with a sense that everything around us is a threat. I don't love clothing the gospel in the rhetoric of violence, nor do I think Christ's teachings often take a combative stance by nature, and never against other children of God. For application, I’m thinking of two examples. First, the secret combinations in the Book of Mormon that Helaman was commanded not to reveal the details of, but very much to reveal the fruits of, as a warning of what could come if the people walked in wicked ways. The Lord didn’t want to provide a manual on how to sin, but He did want to show us what to be wary of, and what specifically to avoid. The first part of that impulse (to avoid presenting a manual for would-be sinners) is also part of the rationale behind the motion picture production code of the 1930s, as it has been of many censorship efforts, but the result then was a cinema of missed opportunities. One that could make you feel good, but was limited in its ability to address serious problems, or reach those in the throes of certain kinds of despair. Alma’s more holistic commandment to Helaman avoids some of that, and so we see that the study of virtue and the study of vicious tactics and consequences are handy complements to each other.
Both approaches, however, can lead to intolerance and even cruelty if handled carelessly. The latter approach, by an incorrect designation of the enemy, and the former by suggesting that the uncomfortable feelings we may experience in the presence of those with different beliefs or lifestyles is sufficient grounds for withholding our friendship, charity, or support. Both of these impulses can also translate into feelings of superiority, which leads to even more pitfalls, so obvious that I need not list them here.
So how are we to approach the subject of evil? That’s what I’m hoping to explore in this series of posts here, not by prescribing a formula, but by attempting to work through some problems and questions on the topic myself. First up, I want to ask what we even mean by “evil.” What do the scriptures mean when they use that term, and is it the same as the common, modern usage? Next, I’ll ask where evil comes from. Can all evil be ascribed to Satan personally, or are there a variety of sources? If so, what are they? Finally, with our hopefully improved understanding in hand, I want to consider several defenses against evil, and explore some practical ways of putting them into action. In doing this, I don’t expect to contemplate specific evils in any depth, though I’m sure I’ll use examples. Instead, I’m going to move from abstract and theoretical to concrete and practical, focusing on better understanding the problem of evil (not in the philosophical sense), and encouraging a better life, more full of the virtuous, the praiseworthy, and the good.
1 I want to acknowledge the apparent bias inherent in the use of the female pronoun for vice here. Before I looked up the exact text of the quote, I had remembered the pronoun "its" in this position. I don't really know which way my leaders quoted it to me in my youth, but as far as I can tell, in his poem, Pope uses female pronouns for all of the virtues, vices, and other influences, while male pronouns are reserved for humanity and maybe for God (though I'm not sure of that last). I haven't done an extensive audit of this, but a brief search seems to indicate this as a consistent practice throughout the text.
2 I have not read all of Pope's Essay, but I have read Epistle II, from which the selection above is taken. It's a long, often satirical, sometimes straightforward, and intentionally provocative piece about dualities in human nature, both harmonious and contradictory, and how inextricably interwoven they are. Perhaps the overall statement of the epistle is that God is wise, man is foolish, and we should keep our studies to the realm of which we are a part. Pope discusses self-love and reason as opposing, balancing forces in human nature, then makes a similar claim about virtue and vice. The quoted lines come from a section in which he discusses how virtue and vice blend together confusingly. We each must behave in virtuous and vicious ways, he says, but imperfectly in both cases, because the processing of these forces through the human self results in neither perfect good nor perfect evil. In any case, according to Pope, we can't seem to agree on where the extremities of vice lie, but always seem to be able to point to someone who is worse than we are. He also argues that each vice has a complementary virtue that it makes us more receptive to, even as it precludes us from possessing its opposite. All in all, the piece has some delightful gems, but I'm not sure it's any wiser than the wretched subjects of Pope's scrutiny, nor am I sure it's intended to be.
3 In case you're wondering, yes, I have also read The Art of War, but I'm not about to give it a summary in the footnotes. I assume this quote is straightforward enough to stand on its own in this context.
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