Divine Love and Divine Law: A Framework for Justice and Mercy

"What, do ye suppose that mercy can rob justice? I say unto you, Nay; not one whit. If so, God would cease to be God." 

Alma 42:25

"And again, verily I say unto you, that which is governed by law is also preserved by law and perfected and sanctified by the same." 

Doctrine and Covenants 88:34

"He that loveth not knoweth not God; for God is love." 

1 John 4:8

It seems a bold claim that Alma makes to his son Corianton in the above mentioned verse from the Book of Mormon-- a casual reading would suggest that Alma asserts that Deity might somehow lose His Divine Authority if He strays one inch from the exacting, inert, and un-embodied law of Justice. I do not think this is Alma's assertion; rather, the Book of Mormon prophet uses this strong language to underscore the degree to which justice-- the adherence to and impartial application of Divinely appointed law--is an inherent element of the God's nature. Both ancient and modern prophets have made it clear that God has instituted laws to govern how His universe will operate; through the Prophet Joseph Smith the Lord declared that "all kingdoms have a law given; and there are many kingdoms; for there is no space in the which there is no kingdom; and there is no kingdom in which there is no space," (Doctrine and Covenants 88:36-37); the Psalmist wrote that "the Law of the Lord is perfect, converting the soul...the statutes of the Lord are right, rejoicing the heart." Clearly, God intends His creations to operate within a system of laws--a divinely appointed order through which each creature may "fill the measure of its creation" (D&C 88:25).

We also read, as in the First Epistle of John, chapter 4 verse 8, that God is a being of love; "shewing mercy," as the Book of Deuteronomy declares, "unto thousands that love [Him]" (Deuteronomy 5:10). The Apostle Paul testified that "neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor principalities, nor powers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor height, nor depth, nor any other creature, shall be able to separate us from the love of God." (Romans 8:38-39) This Divine love for is most surely demonstrated  in the gift of His Only Begotten Son, the Savior Jesus Christ (see John 3:16). Indeed, both the New Testament and the Book of Mormon seem to reveal a God of Love, Mercy, and Compassion. 

Some perceive a seemingly insurmountable contradiction between these two elements of the Divine Nature--Divine Justice, or impartial adherence to Law, and Perfect, Compassionate, Divine Love. One argument suggests that while "Divine Law" ruled in Old Testament times, with the coming of Christ and the fulfillment of the Mosaic Law, "Divine Love" took over--Christ satisfied the demands of justice, and so with a slight twisting of Paul's words, the Law was dead. What follows from this, either implicitly or explicitly, is that a truly loving God would neither allow pain nor prohibit that which we perceive in the moment as happiness. It is far to easy to see how such a train of though may culminate in hedonism or an abandonment of faith--or both. However, such a conflict between God's love and His law is a false dichotomy; Christ made it abundantly clear in His Sermon on the Mount that He did not come "to destroy the law, or the prophets: [He was] not come to destroy, but to fulfill." (Matthew 5:17). Indeed, Jesus Christ did fulfill the Law of Moses, but He replaced it with a Higher Law, articulated in that same Mountaintop Sermon--prohibitions against adultery and murder, for example, superseded by prohibitions against lust and anger. Again, He underscored the importance of obedience to Divine Law with His declaration that "Not every one that saith unto me, Lord, Lord, shall enter into the Kingdom of Heaven; but he that doeth the will of my Father which is in Heaven." (Matthew 7:21). Thus, as Elder Dallin H. Oaks of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles states, "if a person understands the teachings of Jesus, he or she cannot reasonably conclude that our loving Heavenly Father or His Divine Son believes that Their love supersedes Their commandments." (Dallin H. Oaks, "Love and Law," Ensign November, 2009). 

How, then, do these two principles co-exist in the Great Plan of Happiness, and in God's dealings with His children? To answer, we must understand the nature of God's Love, and the purpose of His laws--two elements of the Divine Nature that are, in fact, inseparably connected. In a discourse give in Nauvoo in the spring of 1844, Joseph Smith taught that in the earliest of all primordial Beginnings, "God himself, finding He was in the midst of spirits and glory, because He was more intelligent, saw proper to institute laws whereby the rest could have a privilege to advance like Himself." (Joseph Smith, Teachings of the Prophet Joseph Smith, Joseph Fielding Smith, ed., Covenant Communications, Inc.,  p.367). Thus, Divine law is in fact a manifestation of Divine Love--God Loved us in our most primitive, fundamental, and pre-mortal state, and so He instituted a system of laws that would allow us to become partakers of His Divine Nature, thereby gaining the capacity for Eternal Joy. As Elder Oaks stated, "God's love is so perfect that He lovingly requires us to obey His commandments because He knows that only through obedience to His laws can we become perfect, as He is. For this reason, God's anger and His wrath are not contradictions of His love but an evidence of his love." (Elder Oaks, "Love and Law," Ensign, November 2009). The Apostle Paul develops this theme further in his Epistle to the Hebrews, teaching that "whom the Lord loveth, he chasteneth," to the end that "we might be partakers of his holiness." (Hebrews 12:6,10) 

Such an argument, of course, requires the acceptance of certain paradigmatic assumptions. First, we must accept that God does in fact have a plan for us, and that the plan is in fact feasible--in other words, we must accept the notion of a Supreme Being who knows what He is doing. From this assumption, it follows that He would be capable of instituting just such laws as would be necessary to bring about our Eternal happiness, and no others. The second assumption relates to the idea that the aforementioned happiness is, in fact, eternal and not temporal; we must accept that the things that seem to bring us pleasure in the moment are not always the same things that will bring us true joy in eternity. Really, this is simply another iteration of the first assumption--we must be willing to trust that God knows what He is doing, and that an Eternal Being has a better concept than we do of what brings Eternal happiness. Finally, we must accept the idea that we are in fact moral agents, capable of choosing between good and evil, but also that we exist as agents, independent of our actions. In other words, my choices need not necessarily define me, at least not in totality. To be sure, a pattern of choices repeated over a lifetime will slowly shape a character, but we must accept the possibility that no matter how entrenched we are in any habit, lifestyle, or character trait, we still have possibilities--we can still make choices. If this is true, then it is possible to conceive of a God who loves me unconditionally, but still cannot and will not look upon my sins and misdeeds "with the least degree of allowance" (Alma 45:16). Indeed, He cannot allow my sin for the very fact that He does love me unconditionally, and He does not want me to take any course of action that might preclude me from any opportunity for future happiness. 

There is, of course, one key Piece missing from this puzzle. To find it, we return to where we began--the forty-second chapter of Alma, as the prophet teaches his once-wayward son of Mercy and Justice. These two eternal principles, Divine Love and Divine Law, can only be completely reconciled through the Great Reconciliation--the Infinite Atonement of Jesus Christ. As Alma taught, "the plan of mercy could not be brought about except an atonement should be made; therefore God himself atoneth for the sins of the world, to bring about the plan of mercy, to appease the demands of justice, that God might be a perfect, just God, and a merciful God also," (Alma 42:15) but, as Alma later clarifies, "mercy claimeth the penitent," (ibid, v.23). Thus, though we all fall short of perfection each day of our lives, we may be reconciled to Divine Law through the operation of Divine Love, as we exercise faith in Jesus Christ, allow that faith to work in us to the point of repentance for our offenses against Divine Law, covenant through baptism to do all we can to follow Jesus Christ, and receive the companionship of the Holy Ghost to both sanctify us, and empower us to continue upward on our path towards the Eternal Happiness God intends for us. 

Knowledge and Suffering: Easter Reflections

"Verily, verily, I say unto you, Except a corn of wheat fall into the ground and die, it abideth alone: but if it die, it bringeth forth much fruit." 

-John 12:24

"It is by suffering that God has most nearly approached to man; it is by suffering that man draws most nearly to God." 

-Inscription under the pulpit of the Memorial Church at Stanford University

Much has been written, both within the Christian tradition and without, of the redemptive power of suffering; as during the Easter season we reflect on the suffering, death, and resurrection of the Son of God, I would like to consider suffering as a pathway to greater knowledge. I speak primarily of social or relational knowledge--awareness of and connection to others and to God--rather than propositional knowledge, though perhaps both are possible. As suggested by the above quoted inscription, suffering brings God and man into closer proximity with one another.

"...that He may know according to the flesh how to succor His people..."

When Alma, the Book of Mormon prophet, taught the people of Gideon of the coming mission and ministry of the Christ, he explained  "And he shall go forth, suffering pains and afflictions and temptations of every kind; and this that the word might be fulfilled which saith he will take upon him the pains and the sicknesses of his people.

 And he will take upon him death, that he may loose the bands of death which bind his people; and he will take upon him their infirmities, that his bowels may be filled with mercy, according to the flesh, that he may know according to the flesh how to succor his people according to their infirmities." (Alma 7:11-12) I find it interesting that, apparently, part of the purpose of the Savior's suffering was that He might better understand how to succor, or help (literally, "run to") us in our times of need. The Old Testament prophet Isaiah suggests something similar when, after describing the future suffering of the Man of Sorrows, he relays to us the declaration of Jehovah that "by his knowledge shall my righteous servant justify many; for he shall bear their iniquities." (Isaiah 53:11)

 In the restored Gospel of Jesus Christ, we understand Christ's atoning sacrifice to be an incredibly individual and personal matter--He knows each of us, our sins, our weaknesses, our private sufferings, and He is perfectly equipped to lift us out of them (or in many cases, carry us through them) because of His own suffering in our behalf. The word empathy doesn't quite seem to capture what I'm talking about here--compassion comes closer, meaning literally "to feel with" or "to suffer with". Jesus Christ is uniquely able to stand by and suffer with us as we face the vicissitudes of life because He knows our suffering in a very real way--not simply conceptually or theoretically, but through agonizing personal experience, "which suffering caused...God, the greatest of all, to tremble because of pain, and to bleed at every pore, and to suffer both body an spirit..." (Doctrine and Covenants 19:18). This suffering provides the foundation for Christ's Redeeming power, and His personal knowledge of each one of us.

Broken Things

Of the many lessons we may learn from Jesus Christ's experience in Gethsemane and on Golgotha, and in the Garden Tomb, one is certainly the degree to which our Father in Heaven is willing, and even anxious, to take broken things and make them whole. The Apostle Paul taught the Romans that tribulation would ultimately build within us experience and hope, borne of our faith in Jesus Christ and the efficacy of God's promises (see Romans 5:3-4). Our suffering can bring us to a greater knowledge of ourselves, of others, and of God. 

I often think of Abraham's climb up Mount Moriah to sacrifice Isaac as a journey toward greater self-awareness. President Hugh B. Brown, formerly of the First Presidency, explained that the Lord gave Abraham this task because "Abraham needed to learn something about Abraham." (Quoted in "The Law of Sacrifice" M. Russell Ballard, Ensign, October, 1998) Once atop Mount Moriah, with his son on the alter, Abraham had no doubts as to his own willingness to follow God's command at any cost. Sometimes such trials give us the clarity to see on whose side we stand. I can hardly claim to have been asked to make sacrifices of Abrahamic proportions, but certainly I too have stood on my own personal, much smaller Mount Moriah, and felt compelled to say to the Lord, with the Apostle Peter "to whom shall [I] go? thou hast the words of eternal life." (John 6:68). When the Lord requires us to make difficult choices, we come to more fully understand the degree to which we are willing to commit and submit ourselves to Him. 

Perhaps more important than self-knowledge is the knowledge suffering brings us of others--our brothers and sisters in the family of Adam and Eve. Enduring suffering well equips us to show compassion for our fellow beings. The Book of Mormon Prophet-King Benjamin appealed to this principle when he asked his people "are we not all beggars? Do we not depend upon the same Being, even God, for all the substance which we have?...even at this time, ye have been calling on his name and begging for a remission of your sins. And has He suffered that ye have begged in vain?" (Mosiah 4:19-20) We are all in this together, and there is no amount of jealousy, anger, resentment, or contention that will make our own trials any easier to bear. Instead, just as the Son of God suffered in order to better have compassion on us, we may use our own suffering to develop compassion for those who suffer. I find this possibility most beautifully expressed in the closing pages of Chaim Potok's The Chosen, as Rev Saunders, the seemingly austere and silent Hasidic tzaddik, explains to young Reuven Malter why he has raised his son Danny in silence: "He was bewildered and hurt. The nightmares he began to have....But he learned to find answers for himself. He suffered and learned to listen to the sufferings of others. In the silence between us, he began to hear the world crying."  (Chaim Potok, The Chosen, p.267). Perhaps the relationship between Danny and his father the tzaddik is a metaphor for the relationship God's chosen people often feel with their Maker--suffering, and wondering when relief will come from the silent heavens. But perhaps at times the heavens remain silent so that we can hear our brothers and sisters, also crying. 

Finally, our suffering gives us greater knowledge of our Father in Heaven. Certainly trials require us to rely more completely on God, if we are willing, thereby increasing in our knowledge of Him. However, I suggest that suffering the natural trials of life also helps us better understand the nature of God, in that it allows us to learn to accept the brokenness that occurs within the inevitable cycles of mortal life. Such acceptance requires perfect faith, as when we take our last grain of wheat, and cast it into the ground to die, believing that the broken earth and broken grain will produce for us greater nourishment than our single grain might have afforded.  Jeffrey R. Holland once expressed this concept with poetic clarity: "It takes broken clouds to nourish the earth, it takes broken earth to grow grain, it takes broken grain to make bread, it takes broken bread to nourish us--these are the cycles of life." (Jeffrey R. Holland, March 22, 2013, at a Single Adult Conference in Menlo Park, CA). Through these cycles--night and day, planting and harvest, death and resurrection, we come to know our Maker more perfectly. 

So it is that on this Easter Sunday, as I contemplate the Resurrection of the Son of God some 1,980 years ago, the future resurrection of grandparents, uncle, cousins, and even my on Resurrection, I am thankful for broken things, and the knowledge God grants me through the process of mending.