Job, Old Testament

Philosophers and scholars have written on the Book of Job for centuries. Part of why this attention continues is that so many questions remain unanswered: Who wrote this book, and why was most of it put into Hebrew verse? Just who was this man Job, whose story seems to read as much like a fable as a factual account? If he was an Israelite, why is his heritage it not mentioned? And just where was this place, Uz ("ooze"), where Job was a prominent citizen?
And there are theological questions as well. Do God and Satan meet from time to time, talking "smack" to one another and throwing out sporting propositions in which people are both the "things" wagered on and the stakes? What are we to make of Job's wife and his friends who can't quite resist the temptation to drag a confession from Job as he lay in cruel pain? And, of course, there's the question "What does this mean to me?"
It's hard to know just where fact and fiction diverge in this book, so unlike the rest of the Bible. Clearly, there is a great deal of poetic license taking place here.
Without going into detail about the misfortunes Job suffered almost simultaneously, he shows himself as a person worthy of respect. He knows somehow that God is involved in his pain, which he accepts without much complaint. What he seems to really want is the answer to the question everyone asks some time in life: "Why me?" Neither his wife, who advises "Curse God and die" nor his empathy-lacking friends are able to offer any help. Almost as puzzling is the final answer implicit in the voice of the Lord: "Don't ask." Finally, Job's blessings are restored. We are not told how the informal wager with Satan is settled.
Not all Bible students would be aware that the Latter Day Saints have something to say on the veracity of this whole matter, though it is somewhat indirect. A book of scripture made up of revelations given to Joseph Smith contains a short passage linking him to the ancient Job. Brother Joseph is counseled during a particularly difficult time in his life. He is imprisoned under dubious charges over several months in a decrepit jail in Liberty, MO. The Lord offers encouragement, then mentions that his situation is better than Job's because his loyal friends still stood with him.
It's possible, of course, to compare real people to fictional ones like Captain Ahab or Romeo and Juliet. But comparing the pain experienced by a person to that of a character would lose all meaning. This alone causes LDS members who think about such things to conclude that Job must have been a real person, whatever the details of his actual life. 

Alma the Elder, The Book of Mormon

As with Moroni, two individuals had the name "Alma", a male name in the Book of Mormon society. These two were father and son, with both making significant contributions to the teachings in the Book of Mormon.
The son's life record is more complete than the father's, but it is the father that illustrates a principle worth remembering: courage involves acting in a way which puts you or something you hold dear in jeopardy.
We don't know how, but Alma (referred to as "the elder" by Latter Day Saints to avoid confusion) works his way into the company of a rather corrupt group of men. These were the priests of  King Noah, the ruler of a Nephite splinter group about 150 years before the birth of Christ. Noah has been mentioned in this space before. He was evidently a corrupt ruler, much more concerned with his own good life than that of the people he ruled.
Into this scene comes a prophet named Abinadi, whose assignment is to call Noah and his people to repentance - something they are not prepared for, nor inclined to do. Abinadi is arrested on trumped up charges, and is brought before the King. Ordered to speak in his own defense, Abinadi does so, recounting for his audience some of the most memorable moments of Israelite history, and urging them to change their ways and earn the right to be preserved as their ancestors had been.
This message is rejected almost completely. The exception is Alma, who sees the entire scene unfold, then witnesses Abinadi's martyrdom, burned at the stake with the words of his message still on his lips. This horrific scene apparently made little impression on those who saw it, but Alma was impressed enough to go off on his own and spend some time recording Abinadi's message.
Then comes the part regarding the quality of courage. Alma began to secretly convene groups of people to repeat Abinadi's message. The group must have been tiny at first, but then others began to attend. Being found out would surely have proved fatal for this small group of believers. They had no plan of escape. In fact, none of the Nephites in the group, believers or not, were really free. Alma had to know that there was great danger in assembling, but he did it anyway, and began to baptize members of the group. They, of course, were equally at risk, forming a kind of internal refugee group with little to look forward to until the end of mortality.
This story, in fact, has a happy ending, with the group escaping to rejoin the main body of Nephites they had left behind two generations before. But that doesn't change the fact that these were courageous people, willing and ready to risk everything in order to gain salvation.           

Paul, New Testament

I was given a book a number of years ago with an unusual premise. The author's purpose was to rank the 100 most influential people in human history. This means, naturally, the use of many criteria, most of them purely subjective. How does one compare, for instance, Genghis Khan to J. S. Bach? It's an interesting book, but it settles very little from a factual basis.
For what it's worth, the Apostle Paul is ranked by the author as the 6th most important person of history, slightly ahead of Columbus, Einstein and Karl Marx.
Paul is ranked so highly because of the success which eventually came from his life's work - the taking of the message of Christianity, at first thought to be simply a branch of Judaism, into some far parts of what then constituted the "known world", where it was recognized as something growing out of, but then transcending the worship of Yahweh, claiming that the Messiah had, indeed, come to earth, and had established his Church upon the earth.
While always a person of great devotion, Paul was not always a devoted Christian. In fact, he played a role in the persecution of these people by the Jewish authorities of his day. The victims were themselves almost all ethnic Jews, but Paul, then known as Saul, saw nothing wrong in trying to keep out new ideas that he could not confirm by revelation, and did not oppose violence against these Jesus followers trying to claim authority for themselves.
This changed as Saul traveled to Damascus on a mission of persecution. An angel appeared to him and told him that his actions were flatly wrong, and that he must reverse them in order to be considered a true servant of God. All this simply overpowered Saul's senses, and he fell to earth, unconscious and speechless.
It took awhile for Paul, as he was now called, to make the change the angel had spoken about, but change he did. It soon became evident that his mission was to go to the great cities of the then known world to preach this new Gospel. He could no longer function as a pharisee, and so he took up the trade of tent making as a way to meet his expenses. Most Christian Bibles devote a page in the Gazeteer to the travels of Paul through several journeys.
The leaders of the infant church were not at first convinced that this message is intended for non-Jews, but then Peter had a dream which lead him to conclude that times had changed, and that ALL people could now be considered as possible new Christians.
Paul becomes a member of the Twelve Apostles and also devotes time to correspond with the congregations he had helped to establish, correcting their misconceptions and encouraging them to persevere in the face of adversity. His epistles take up more pages than any of the Gospels, and form the theology of many Christian denominations today.
We do not have a record of the end of Paul's life, but by tradition it took place in Rome and was probably violent, as the deaths of other apostles had been.
Paul deserves our admiration not just for his works over a long stretch of time, but for resisting any temptation to do or say anything in his own name, always portraying himself as just a man in the service of God and Jesus Christ.        

Joseph, Old Testament

In the Old Testament, stories featuring war, violence and destruction seem more common than stories of redemption, hope and love. If seeking the latter, however, the wonderful account of Joseph and his brothers is found in the latter chapters of Genesis.
Joseph's father, the family patriarch Jacob (whose name is changed to "Israel" is the grandson of Abraham. He enjoys the gifts of the spirit, and is aware of the promises given to Abraham to be the "father of many nations", but that carries no guarantee of an easy life. He fathers ( through four different women) twelve sons and a daughter. Joseph is the 11th son, but it is revealed that he will preside over the entire family some day. This is noted, and resented, by his older brothers.
Young Joseph is, in fact, a thorn in the side of his brothers, for he is not shy about reminding them about his promised status. They conspire to kill Joseph, but, instead, sell him off into slavery, then return to their father with a tall tale of Joseph's death from an animal attack, using his blood-soaked coat "of many colors" as evidence.
Joseph lands in Egypt, where his early life is marked by ups and downs. It would have been easy to simply discard his background and remake himself in the mold of his new masters, but Joseph never forgets who he is, and is finally assigned to serve one of  Pharaoh's high officials, Potiphar. He resists an attempt at seduction by Potiphar's wife, but is consigned to prison.
Josph probably would have stayed locked up, but Pharaoh has a dream which his spititual advisers are unable to comprehend, and someone recalls that young Joseph has correctly interpreted the dreams of others before. Brought before Pharaoh, he not only gives the details of the dream, which the monarch had claimed to have forgotten, but interprets it as pertaining to a future marked with seven good growing years to be followed by seven years of famine.
Convinced, Pharaoh realizes that planning for this disaster will be needed to preserve his nation, and that the man for this huge assignment is Joseph himself. Without any false modesty or hesitation, Joseph assumes powers in Egypt second only to Pharaoh himself - something akin to the Secretary of Agriculture, but much more powerful.
The famine forecast by Joseph occurs as predicted, and Israel and his family are not spared. He sends his sons to Egypt to bargain for food, where they meet the great administrater who had once been their younger brother Joseph. He recognizes them, and after making them sweat through a kind of test, finally reveals himself to them in a spirit of love and forgiveness. The entire family is brought to Egypt to live out the famine under Joseph's care.
While it is true that the Israelites are enslaved in Egypt years later, and that their liberation requires much suffering as recorded in Exodus, Joseph's life lesson for us is clear: in whatever circumstances you may find yourself, hold on to the righteous counsel you've received as a young person. And when it comes time to forgive, do so in sincerity of soul and without reservation.     

Zoram, The Book of Mormon

We don't know the names of every individual who left with Lehi and company, the group which eventually made their way to the Western Hemisphere. There was Lehi, his wife and their sons and daughters, along with Ishmael and his sons and daughters. By the time their ship sailed, the two families had done some blending, and the first of the next generation had already been born..
And there was also Zoram. He is not a person about which much is known. The scripture records that he had been a servant in the house of Laban, and that he was obliged to make an instant choice about his future. The choice he made was to join a group of people he did not know, in a journey and future none of them knew much about. This choice was made as a large young man (Nephi) kept him from escaping, but promised that he would be numbered with Lehi's family and treated as a free man. Something about this promise rang true to Zoram, and he took an oath on the spot. Nephi records that any concerns over Zoram (whom he did not know) vanished when he made this oath to "sign on".
The remainder of Zoram's life is not recorded. It was doubtless filled with hard work, but probably also a feeling of helping start something that would last a long time. Years later, when Lehi nears the end of his life and blesses all the people who had been under his leadership, Zoram is still there. Lehi, perhaps showing his age, refers to Zoram as "the servant of Laban", a status Zoram had left behind many years before. In any case, Zoram and his descendents receive Lehi's blessing and are numbered with Nephi's (that is, the worshipers of the Lord) people.
Making good decisions about both large and small things is undeniably important to happiness in life. Decisions we must make on the spot are usually about small things, and probably are a bit less successful than those that we make after long consideration. Even so, we should be prepared to make decisions quickly when circumstances demand. The scriptures give us examples of both kinds of decision-making, and both can be helped by inspireation.       

Pontius Pilate, New Testament

One must wonder how Pontius Pilate, Rome's local representative charged with ruling Judea during the 1st century AD, saw his job. Did he rise every morning happy to be the most powerful single individual in the area, or was he instead concerned with whatever surprising things might arise from ruling this little remnant of Israel? Was it only important that Rome's investment in occupation paid off  every year, or were other considerations also given weight? And was Pilate's position seen as a stepping stone in the Roman Empire, or a backwater, given little attention by those at the top of the Roman power structure?
It's hard to answer these questions with real authority, but it seems reasonable that even occupying powers favor stability among their subjects, and therefore would have known something about the line between mere exploitation and revolution-producing rebellion.  And the Romans were not new to empire building and maintenance.
In Judea, the matter of religion would be a major factor in deciding just how much occupation would be too much. The matter of Jesus would, to Pilate, have been just one more problem arising from the worship of the Jewish god. It's easy to see his reluctance to make new enemies by using violence against  a new class of victims. On the other hand, it must have become clear as Pilate all but begged the Passover mob for moderation, that the Jewish leaders had somehow convinced their followers that Jesus would have to die.
It wasn't that Pilate wasn't capable of violence, or even reluctant about it. But somewhere in his mind was the thought that one will more likely inflame by acting than by letting things pass with little or no public censure. He had also met and spoke with Jesus, and might have been impressed that this man, despite his tiny following and apparent nonviolent nature was no ordinary person.
But mob rule, though we hate the concept, was more likely to be the determining factor, even in the Roman Empire. Pilate did what he could to avoid responsibility for crucifying this man about whom he probably knew little. But in the end, he folded, choosing to tie himself  more closely to local  pharisees hoping to avoid revolt. Doubtless the crucifixion of Jesus went onto some kind of administrative report duly sent on to Rome, where it was probably marked "case closed" and forgotten.    

Nathan, Joab, Old Testament

We are all familiar with the vision of a person with two tiny visions of him/herself, one perched on each shoulder. One sports wings, while the other has horns and a forked tale. The person in the middle must choose between opposing advice whispered into each ear by this pair.
The life of David seems to be one in which the need to decide is plainly a struggle. On one hand is the advice of Nathan, a prophet given the task of helping David makes wise choices. But his is not the only voice in David's ear. Joab, the captain of the host, doesn't make suggestions himself, but stands ready to carry out the King's orders - no matter what they are or who they might hurt. Having a man like Joab on hand to do the "dirty" work represents a great temptation for David.
On a day when he would have been better off leading his army in battle, David was struck by the sight of Bathsheba bathing on her rooftop. He didn't lack feminine company, but David nevertheless pulled a few strings, paving the way to a sexual affair and an unplanned pregnancy. But there was a problem. Bathsheba was already married to Uriah the Hittite, probably a mid-level mercenary earning a dangerous living in King David's service
When David's attempt to cover his own sin failed, he turned to Joab for a favor. Uriah was simply to be left unprotected on the battlefield in order to become the victim of the opposing Amorites. The plan is a success, with David playing the role of mourning the loss of Uriah. The widow Bathsheba soon becomes David's wife, and no one, to David, is the wiser save Joab, Bathsheba and himself.
But there is no keeping secrets from God. Nathan soon tells David the story of a man who loses his little lamb to a man who takes it simply because he can. This angers David, and he begins to plan heavy punishment for the thief, when Nathan reveals the truth with just four words: "Thou art the man."
This represents a kind of turning point for David. To his credit, he doesn't deny the truth or try to pass the blame to someone else. His punishment is kept internal. He remains king and keeps Bathsheba, who later gives birth to Solomon. His reign, though, is not what it might have been because of God's promise that the remainder of his days would not bring peace, even within his own family. Though his words of sorrow are recorded in many of the Psalms, it is not enough to earn him the divine task of finally replacing the Tabernacle with a temple as a permanent home for the Ark of the Covenant. The job instead falls to Solomon.