Alma 21

When Ammon and his brothers split up on the borders of Lamaniteland, Aaron headed toward the city Lamanites coyly called Jerusalem, which bordered Mormon (the region, not the guy). Lamanites, Amalekites, and Amulonites had built the city jointly, partly because they were of the same thickheaded, stubborn temperament. (Pardon the editorializing, but trust me, this was the common take.) Indeed, if anything, the latter two “ites” had dragged the Lamanites to a lower level than they already were.

So what did Aaron do when he got there? Preach. He did so mainly in what they brazenly called synagogues, despite their complete ignorance of the synagogue concept the Jews were working up in the Old World. (These synagogues claimed to be based on the traditions of the Nehors.)

Aaron went in to one of these synagogues, started a sermon and immediately got heckled by an Amalekite. “Oh, so you’ve seen an angel, eh? We don’t see angels. Are you saying you’re better than us?”

Aaron didn’t know how to answer that one. Obviously, he thought, he was better.

The heckler went on. “You say we need to change. But what do you know about us? You hardly know how we act, let alone how we think. So how can you say we need to change? Obviously we’re pretty good people. We built this synagogue, didn’t we? In our opinion, by the way, God will save everyone. So even a pretense of righteousness is moot in his eyes.”

“Well, let me ask you this: Do you believe God’s son will come to save people from their sins?”

“Well you might, but we don’t. Tradition. La-di-da. Stupefying, nutcase tradition, based on the self-willed assertions of religious narcissists.”

Aaron reviewed scriptural texts about the Anointed One, the Great Reconciliation, and so forth. Jesus had to die if anyone was to be saved.

This agitated a crowd already on edge. They jeered him, tried to drown him out.

Aaron saw this was a waste of his time. He walked out and went to a nearby village with the quaint name of Ani-Anti. And there were Muloki, Ammah, and his other brothers preaching pretty fiercely to the villagers. Another tough crowd.

And again, this seemed a waste of time. So they all headed to Middoni. More resistance. A mob threw Aaron and a few others into jail. The rest got as far out of town as possible.

The prisoners had a hard time—it was even more cramped than the prison had earlier been. But Lamoni and Ammon talked the guards into letting Aaron and the others out of jail. They even got some decent food and clothing for them.

The preaching resumed. They had no pre-formed agenda, mind you, just followed divine impulses, which led them into every synagogue in the region before it was over. And finally, success. Lots of folks confessed their sins and renounced their odd traditions in favor of God’s odd ones.

In time Ammon and Lamoni returned to the land of Ishmael, though Lamoni refused to let his mentor again be his slave. They jointly planned and contracted the erection of synagogues of their own, meetinghouses for neo-Christians. By now Lamoni liked to preach and teach, which he did in these buildings whenever he could. He got preachy about politics, too, saying that though he was the all-powerful master of their domain, they were still free—free, at least, because he wouldn’t be a tyrant. He was the rightful and undisputed overlord of the whole society, but they were free to worship God—i.e., the God he now believed in—wherever and whenever they wished.

Ammon preached too. He was less visionary in a way. He taught people good daily conduct. And, of course, he had no power to threaten or intimidate the people, except on God’s behalf.