Preface to Jarom


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But perhaps the most remarkable demonstration of literary sensitivity in the entire Book of Mormon can be enjoyed in the seven pages which comprise the books of Enos, Jarom, and Omni. Though these books at first glance seem too short to be very significant, they are actually a tour de force without parallel in Hebraic scripture, illustrating that style is the man.

The headlong impetuosity of Enos is suggested by his rather imprecise, fragmentary opening sentence. You know, as an English teacher this always makes me shiver a little as I read it. “Behold, it came to pass that I, Enos, knowing my father that he was a just man—for he taught me in his language, and also in the nurture and admonition of the Lord—and blessed be the name of my God for it.”

The vitality of this man fairly crackles on the page. Note especially his use of verbs and verb forms: wrestled, sunk, hungered, kneeled, cried, raised, poured out, struggling, swept. Enos simply can’t wait for logic to catch up with him. His words roll forth in an irresistible flood. In describing the Lamanites he pours attitudes on top of environment, adds physical description, then skills, shifts to diet and back to attitudes again. His sentences all have a spoken quality, and their length seems determined only by a need for breath. Listen as you read the following description of his own people: “And there was nothing save it was exceeding harshness, preaching and prophesying of wars, and contentions, and destructions, and continually reminding them of death, and the duration of eternity, and the judgments and the power of God, and all these things—stirring them up continually to keep them in the fear of the Lord.” Just one magnificent sentence—about a deep breath long.

This man wrings meaning from every moment. His concluding words are beautiful in character: “And I rejoice in the day when my mortal shall put on immortality, and shall stand before him; then shall I see his face with pleasure.” It had been suggested in all Western literature there is a singular lack of friendship toward God. Reverence, awe, wonder, transport, even ecstasy we know; but all these have overtures of the supernal. Enos, in the company of the English poet George Herbert, might well make an affectionate call on the Lord.

From Enos to his son Jarom is the shortest of genealogical steps but a gigantic shift in style. Except for the expected, conventional beginning, note the difference: “Now behold, I, Jarom, write a few words according to the commandment of my father, Enos, that our genealogy may be kept.” You are suddenly aware that nothing in the whole book of Enos came to bear on a problem with such crispness. The succeeding verses develop the reasons for the length of his account and the special problems of his day in coherent, beautifully modulated sentences. His diction too is precise. In discussing his people he lets us see their total strength in saying that, “They profaned not, neither did they blaspheme.” This is not merely synonymous parallelism, that standard device of Hebraic positive. This is an incremental repetition in which additional meanings are added within a parallel framework….

From calm, exacting Jarom we come to Omni. At once we are struck by a focus on the first person. There are seven “I”’s in two verses. Omni is a soldier, dutifully carrying out the command of his father but not a bit averse to identifying himself as a wicked man. We soon see what really interests him. He not only lets us know of his valor in battle but describes his times solely in terms of war and peace. “We had many seasons of peace, we had many seasons of serious war and bloodshed.”

That reference to “serious war” gives him away. It suggests the concern of a man to whom war is neither inconsequential nor detestable. It’s simply a vocation. Omni is forthright, not very reflective, and his sentences march briskly but to no great end.

Amaron, Omni’s son, is more like his grandfather, Jarom. He is careful, organized, and in a few verses manages to turn our attention from personalities to issues. Yet Amaron lack’s Jarom’s linguistic sensitivity. His sentences, unlike Omni’s, are neatly balanced, but it is a mechanical neatness. Here is a style which tries to synthesize the no-nonsense approach of his father with the carefully controlled cadence of his grandfather.

If Amaron is not quite successful, what shall we say of Chemish? Poor, dear Chemish! Possibly he didn’t expect to have to take his turn at the records, since they usually went from father to son, but overwhelmed by the responsibility that is suddenly his, he can only belabor the obvious: “They all write in the same book, and they all write with their own hands.” You can just see the half-hopeful, half-relieved smile with which he turns the records over to his son….

I know of no more revealing verse in all scripture. How clearly Chemish is given to us. Not in what is said about him, but in what he says about himself.

Through his style. Just one verse, but in it the whole history of inadequacy….

It’s a relief to pass on to Abinadom. But in reading his account I seem to detect a bit of insecurity. I suspect he’s looked back to see what others have written. There are echoes of Omni and Jarom, but nothing else. At this point we have had four men write in a total of eleven verses. This is all we know of them, yet I feel I might recognize them on the street.

The final nineteen, rather long verses are the breezy contribution of Amaleki. He just loves to write. He mixes exhortation with history in about equal amounts and stops only when he’s used up all the space that remained on the plates.

Joseph Smith’s translation of the small plates concludes here. Not only have we encountered typically Hebraic figures, but they have been presented with undeniable skill. Styles which should have been distinctive have been consistently so. Yet there’s an overall tone which bespeaks a single translator.

We have only to check the markedly different versions of the Bible in English to recognize how much a translator can provide in achieving that integration of nuance and emphasis that turns words into life….

Robert K. Thomas, A Literary Critic Looks At The Book of Mormon, 8th of 12 essays published in TO THE GLORY OF GOD, Dedicated to the life and memory of B. West Belnap, [1972], 156-159. Originally published in The Joseph Smith Memorial Sermons, Twenty-Second Annual, December 6, 1964, LDS Institute of Religion, Logan, Utah

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