The Book of Mosiah, though rich in sermons, simultaneously tells a rich and complicated story. Or, more accurately, three stories (or arguably more than three), beginning with King Benjamin’s long political/philosophical speech, but then going back in time, with various flashbacks. The principle narratives deal with Alma, and his church of religious separatists, who break away from the people of wicked King Noah, Limhi, and his leadership, trying to carve out a space for Nephites under Lamanite rule, and a group of emissaries from King Mosiah. Reading it, I get a distinct feeling of ‘meanwhile, back at the ranch.’

Noah is the king who initially causes all the trouble, leading to these miniature diasporas. And, yes, for most of us, the word ‘wicked’ is always appended before his name. It’s essentially not possible for Mormons of a certain generation to visualize King Noah without his leopards. In the iconic Arnold Friberg painting of his confrontation with Abinadi–which appeared in all those blue paperback Books of Mormon we remember from seminary–Noah is rich and short and fat and has a black beard. More memorably, he’s guarded by two snarling chained pet leopards straining to get at the prophet, who is old and in rags but still ripped. (Friberg loved drawing muscular guys, in common with Cecil B. DeMille, who Friberg worked closely with). Noah is surrounded by mysteriously Middle-eastern looking priests–we can see seven of them–who sycophantly make their complaint against Abinadi, in what has always struck me as a singularly strange way: by quoting Isaiah 52 at him. “How beautiful upon the mountains are the feet of him that bringeth good tidings; that publisheth peace; that bringeth good tidings of good; that publisheth salvation.” That’s their coup de grace, their knockout punch. But it’s really important. Their theology is repeated endlessly by various Book of Mormon bad guys. Priests–or really authority figures generally, are specifically and richly blessed, by God, regardless of what they do. See, it says right there, in the scriptures, that priests–messengers from God–have particularly beautiful feet. That becomes a repeated theme; priests or kings or aristocracies should be popularly and financially supported. There’s no such thing as a bad leader. (“If the President does it, it’s not against the law.”) Abinadi has hurt their feelings, by pointing out how rich those same priests have become, and how far they’ve strayed from Biblical teachings. To Abinadi, holding priestly (or governmental) office carries with it responsibilities and obligations. If you don’t perform, you aren’t blessed all. (As Joseph Smith put it in another context: “when we . . . gratify our pride, or . . . exercise control  or dominion . . . in any degree of unrighteousness . . . amen to the priesthood or authority of that man,”) And Noah’s priests are bad at their jobs. Abinadi is quite specific, describing the duties they’ve neglected, the sins of which they’re guilty. Specifically, they abuse women.  Mosiah chapter 11 repeatedly points out the sexual dynamic of Noah’s court, with the king and his priests enjoying the favors of multiple wives, court prostitutes and concubines.

The court culture of Noah’s entourage is best described as one of toxic masculinity; sexually charged, contemptuous of moral norms, and violent. And boy, did they think they were hot stuff. Bigger, badder, tougher, stronger. After a military victory:

And now, because of this great victory they were lifted up in the pride of their hearts; they did boast in their own strength, saying that their fifty could stand against thousands of the Lamanites; and thus they did boast, and did delight in blood, and the shedding of the blood of their brethren, and this because of the wickedness of their king and priests. (Mosiah 11:19}

Abinadi’s sermon is interesting, and weird. It reads like what would become a standard Pauline understanding of the relationship between the law of Moses and the atonement of Jesus Christ, who hadn’t been born yet, but would be and who would, in time, redeem mankind. It’s like a simplified version of the Epistle to the Romans. The Book of Mormon does that repeatedly, of course; describes pre-Christ Christians living in the Americas. I’m not going to deal with the historicity angle; you either buy it as genuinely ancient or you don’t. My larger point, though, my political point, is that the specific condemnation of the priests of Noah is about their conduct, their ‘whoredoms,’ by which we mean an overall atmosphere of extreme misogyny, and their violent aggressiveness. Even when Abinadi warns of them of their impending destruction, these priests posture menacingly in response. ‘We’re strong, we’re tough guys. And we’re rich. No one’s going to destroy us!’ (Paraphrasing Mosiah 12: 15).

After Abinadi’s death, and after Alma’s departure to the Waters of Mormon, the priests of Noah become massive troublemakers for the Nephites. For one thing, they’re rapists. They find a favorite women’s refuge, a place where Lamanite girls gather to sing and dance, a recreation spot. They kidnap the girls, and that starts a war between the Lamanites and Nephites. They ‘marry’ the young women, have children by them, and become a group of people called the Amulonites. And stay trouble-makers for a good long time.

It’s worth pointing out that the Amulonites eventually join forces with the Nephites, which, of course, complicates the whole Nephite/light skin/good vs. Lamanite/dark skin/evil dynamic. Fourth Nephi couldn’t be clearer–“Lamanite” and “Nephite” were cultural constructions. That’s true generally; what we call ‘race’ is cultural, not biological. To the extent that racial differences exist in the Book of Mormon, they were essentially exploited as war-time propaganda. By both sides.

Anyway, that’s Noah’s priests, that’s what they stood for. Toxic, violent, hyper-masculinity. And that is quite specifically what Alma barely escapes, and what he creates his own society in opposition to.

So by the end of Mosiah, the people of King Limhi–Noah’s repentant son and heir–the people of Alma and the people of Mosiah have all gathered together. Limhi–who we sense never really wanted to be king all that much anyway–abdicates, and his people join Mosiah’s people. And we’re immediately introduced to another Korihor precursor, a guy named Nehor. We don’t learn much about him; his story takes up about half of Alma Chapter 1, but he comes across as similar to the Noah priests. He’s a big guy, ‘exceeding large,’ and with a nasty temper.

Nehor’s message is the same as Noah’s priests. (In fact, that’s probably where he learned of it). He preaches the ultimate in moral relativism: universal salvation. He wants priests to be paid, and for their message to be a lot more positive:

And he also testified unto the people that all mankind should be saved at the last day, and that they need not fear nor tremble, but that they might lift up their heads and rejoice; for the Lord had created all men, and had also redeemed all men; and, in the end, all men should have eternal life.

There’s not such thing as sin, no such thing, therefore, as repentance or an atonement.  Everyone’s saved, without effort or difficulty. It is moral relativism writ large, or universalism in a new context. But note the undergirding of violence. Nehor gets good and rich. Starts his own church. And enters into a theological dispute with an older, revered member of the community, Gideon, loses his temper, and murders him. He’s caught, brought before the chief judge, Alma, condemned to death, and executed.

We do have to read between the lines a bit, but it appears that the popularity of Nehor’s message corresponds with a rise in income inequality. Nehor’s ministry is of necessity short-lived, but Alma’s response to it is suggestive; he sends out missionaries with a mandate to alleviate poverty. As for Nehor’s universalism, it might appear superficially attractive, to say that everyone will be saved, no harm and no fuss. And we Mormons don’t, in fact, believe in hell. Our theology posits multiple kingdoms of glory, not some dank eternal torture regimen. But moral relativism, on this scale, ends up excusing and rewarding violence. If nothing anyone does is bad, then why not lie, cheat, steal, rape and murder? Isn’t that the great secret of Cain, who became Master Mahan? “That a man may murder and get gain?” (Moses 5:31). And does this not suggest that income inequality is by its very nature violent? Isn’t that the “secret” of slavery, for example?

And, again, we see two schools of thought; one concerned with poor people, and helping those who were struggling to rise, and the other side getting good and rich through violence. And the Nephite cycle continues. Immediately after dealing with Nehor, Alma gets to deal with Amlici, and the Amlicites. A group of wealthy guys who wanted a monarchy, with Amlici as king, and who, after losing a national referendum, started a civil war. Which Alma was able to defeat. More wealth and more violence. And that’s my final point. When we talk about the Nephite cycle, poverty-righteousness-wealth-collapse-poverty and so on, we often leave out one of the most important factors: violence. Wealth does not always require violence–it’s possible to get rich non-violently. But it’s easier, and faster, if you’re essentially indifferent to the welfare of those you exploit. Nehor was violent, Amlici was violent, the priests of King Noah were rapists, the various Nephite Quislings who incited war with the Lamanites were men of violence. The Book of Mormon’s patterns of wickedness always include outbursts of what can only be called toxic masculinity. And it’s often directed towards women.

Next up: Korihor himself.