Mosiah 2

People came for what was probably the weightiest public event of their lives. Multitudes. No one could count them. People shook their heads at how big the populace had grown.

Most of them had brought prize lambs to sacrifice at this temple event. Whether Mosiah had that in mind was only a guess. But it seemed good to be on the safe side. Besides, people needed a religion break. A kind of thanksgiving day for the new land they’d found, the rebuff of their enemies, good leaders, and quiet solitude.

Family by family they pitched tents around the temple,

flaps facing the building so they could sit inside and protect their skin from the sun. Meanwhile, Benjamin built a tower so people could hear and see him better. Nice idea but it didn’t quite work. People could barely hear him in the open air. Good thing he had a scribe there to write it down. This sermon would make a nice parting gift to the people as he left office.

Here’s a copy of that transcript:

I haven’t called you here for sport. This is serious. You should listen hard. Because today I’m going to teach you some of the mysteries of God. I’m going to try to unfold them like a napkin.

Now, though this is serious, I’m not trying to badger you or lord my thoughts over you. I’m no stronger or better than you. I get sick, I make mistakes, and, like all of you, I will die. But I am king. You chose me, coronated me and, most important, trusted me to give you my all. I have not used you to get rich. I have not thrown you into dungeons. Most important, I have not encouraged, condoned, or exemplified bad behavior, whether slavery, adultery, theft, or any of the other common sins of politicians.

I’ve even done manual labor to offset your taxes. Self-sacrifice that you just don’t see anymore. But you’ve seen it in me.

I haven’t done such things for territorial bragging rights. And I don’t bring them up to point the finger. I’m just saying that my political conscience is clear. You know it, I know it, God knows it. Indeed, serving you is really my way of serving God. It’s a personal confession in the form of a motto: What I do for you is merely to serve him.

You call me a king, but I didn’t act like what you think a king should be. So if I act like servant-class to you, shouldn’t you act like that toward one another? And if you thank me for what I’ve done, shouldn’t you thank God, who’s done, literally, infinitely more for you? He’s the real King and yet the greatest servant. He brings you breath itself, keeps you alive. That heart in your chest—what keeps it beating? That brain in your skull—how does it work? Every epistemological question has him as the answer.

So if you served and thanked him all your lives with all your strength, you could never repay him. And you certainly wouldn’t be doing him any favors.

But consider: all he asks is that you follow his laws. And more, if you do so he blesses you, gives you more than you already have. A pretty amazing, cosmically disproportionate, generous deal, I’d say. You already owe him for every moment of your life, then if you follow his ways he immediately improves that life. He basically pays you to receive his gifts with gratitude.

So much for anyone’s bragging rights. Folks, we’re all made of molecules, on which he owns the patent. So, me, “king”—what’s that? Better molecules? I don’t think so. And at my age I’m getting ready for those molecules to disengage and recombine. So I’m not bragging about anything.

But, as I say, I’ve lived it right and I called you here today to make sure my conscience is immaculate. My spirit is in line to meet God. And I don’t want that great event to be marred by vicarious guilt. When I sing with heaven’s choirs, I don’t want to be the guy singing every high note flat.

As I move ahead in that line, I have some bad news: I’m abdicating the throne today. My body is aching so bad just to shout from this tower at you. God told me this would be my last hurrah. He also told me that I not only could, but should, put Mosiah into my office as king.

I know you feel in your hearts that you have chosen me and my father and my grandfather before me as your one-man rulers. I think we’ve all acted in ways that respect that feeling. But kingship is hereditary. That’s the nature of monarchy. You can read about it amply in the brass plates. So please, no uprisings or plotting in response to my announcement. No coups, obviously. Whatever you might say about monarchial systems, coups are simply demonic. They have no place in governance.

Meanwhile, selfish scheming has no place in good citizenship. If you promiscuously violate God’s laws of generosity and mutual service it’s like drinking soul-poison every day. Your body might live on but your spirit will die and fester in your body. Imagine when your molecules disengage and you get in line to meet God as a rotting spiritual corpse.

Except for infants and toddlers, every last one of you knows these things. You’ve been taught at every stage. No pleas for ignorance will wash. So if you defy God’s laws you push back against his wisdom as well. His Spirit, which should guide you, will only perplex you. God’s spirit looks for human temples. Resist him and he’ll move on.

But in the end, we all have to meet God. If you die as his enemy, don’t expect to meet him as a friend. And how would you feel if the only clothing you had in front of him was guilt? You’d be more embarrassed than if you were naked. Embarrassment burns inside you. That’s why we blush. When your soul’s embarrassed it burns. And if the embarrassment never ends, so does the burning. That’s what we mean by hell.

To old men, young men, kids, my message is the same: think of how awful hell is, then think of how happy its opposite must be. People who determine to live God’s law and hold on till they die have a happiness whose quality and quantity we can’t imagine. We can imagine lots of things. But some things are so much better than our brains can even conceive. That’s what I’m talking about for those who live God’s laws. And God is who I’m talking for.