The Poetic Genius of Alma the Younger
(Part 2 – Virtuosity)

By Doug Talley

We commonly consider a virtuoso in the arts as one with outstanding or brilliant technical skill. Virtuosity in music or in poetry is characterized by an almost relentless combination of multiple technical effects manifesting a high degree of artistry. We might think of Mozart in the Piano Concertos or Shakespeare in the Sonnets and marvel how a single genre can admit to so much variation. In Shakespeare one could begin simply with his language. The literary critic Harold Bloom noted that Shakespeare “had a deep drive to coin new words, and [we are] always astonished that he employed more than twenty-one thousand separate words. Of these, he invented roughly one out of twelve: about eighteen hundred coinages, many of them now in common use.” (Harold Bloom, Genius, New York: Warner Books, Inc., 2002, p. 18). I also like this statement about the abundance of Shakespeare’s genius:

I have never recovered from the initial wound I received when reading [Jorge Luis] Borges’s fictions some forty years ago, but it seems always to be the same wound. Borges would not regard that as his limitation, but Shakespeare wounds us in a thousand different ways. (Id. at p. 682).

Poetic genius of the highest order never seems cramped by limitation. It is marked by continuous artistry that appears inexhaustible. In a word, it is characterized by virtuosity.

The Virtuosity Of Alma’s Writings

Some might contend that Alma’s writings in The Book of Mormon are hardly a proper subject for a paper on artistic virtuosity. Mark Twain, for example, commented that The Book of Mormon was “chloroform in print”. He also believed that if you removed the phrase “and it came to pass” from The Book of Mormon all you had left was a small pamphlet. (Quoted in John W. Welch, Chiasmus in the Book of Mormon, Provo, Utah: FARMS, 1994). What some may see as the plodding, repetitive style of The Book of Mormon stems from the use of an ancient literary device known as parallelism, a term conveniently embracing a vast array of poetic and rhetorical techniques. The previous month’s poetry column examined several examples of Alma’s use of parallelism to create lyrical effects. This column will delve somewhat deeper into Alma’s brilliant mastery of the technique, mastery like that of any virtuoso.

A passage of particular interest, and apt enough in itself to explore the question of virtuosity, is Alma 42:13-25. The passage poses the theological question how God can at the same time prove both merciful and just. Alma states that the mercy of God is only brought about upon condition of individual repentance, otherwise mercy would destroy the demands of justice, and “God would cease to be God.” (Alma 42:13). That is, God, in order to be God, must necessarily be both merciful and just, and if mercy were extended on any principle other than repentance, then God would not be just.

What caught my attention as I read this passage recently was the phrase at the end of verse 13, “Now the work of justice could not be destroyed; if so, God would cease to be God.” The latter half of this phrase appears also in verses 22, 23 and 25 of the same chapter:

v. 13 – “God would cease to be God”
v. 22 – “God would cease to be God”
v. 23 – “God ceaseth not to be God”
v. 25 – “God would cease to be God”

Because the phrase in verse 22 is immediately followed by the same phrase in verse 23, I initially believed I had stumbled upon the central turning point of a chiasm, an ancient literary device quite commonly found in Alma. A chiasm, or chiasmus, is a specific type of parallelism in which words or phrases sequenced initially in a specific order are then repeated in precisely the reverse order. Because the first segment of the sequence must always reverse itself, there is always a turning point in the sequence where the final phrase in the first segment becomes the initial phrase in the reverse segment. Perhaps the finest example of a central turning point in chiasmus is found in Alma 36, the chapter in which he relates to his son Helaman his religious conversion. The turning point of the chiasmus of that chapter is found in verses 17 and 18:

v. 17 – “one Jesus Christ, a Son of God”
v. 18 – “O Jesus, thou Son of God”

(See, John W. Welch, Chiasmus in the Book of Mormon, Provo, Utah: FARMS, 1994, pp. 21-25, for a full exegesis of the chiasmus constituting the entire chapter of Alma 36).

Because in chapter 42 of Alma I had noticed what appeared to be a similar central turning point in verses 22 and 23 in the phrase “God would cease to be God”, I readily concluded some sort of chiastic structure was in play, and therefore, I looked more closely. In doing so, I became increasingly amazed by the intricate and complex interplay of numerous poetic devices beyond mere chiasmus that Alma employed in the passage from verses 13 through 25. The definitions of these literary devices can be found elsewhere, and I will assume the reader will either intuit the nature of these devices or resort to other sources. (See, Donald W. Parry, Poetic Parallelisms of the Book of Mormon, Provo, Utah: FARMS, 1988, or Herbert Smyth, Greek Grammar, Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1973, Appendix pp. 671–683).

Exegesis of Alma 42:13-25

The whole intricate structure begins with the phrase “God would cease to be God” in verse 13. It is immediately followed in verse 14 by what is known as simple synthetic parallelism, a couplet in which the second line adds something to the first line:

“all mankind were fallen . . .
they were in the grasp of justice . . . “

This is immediately followed by a repetition of the word “justice” and a second simple synthetic parallelism:

“yea, the justice of God . . .
forever to be cut off from his presence.”

Conceptually, the last phrase “cut off from his presence” links back to the initial phrase “mankind were fallen”, because the essence of being fallen is to be cut off from the presence of God. The two phrases are further linked by the repetition of the word “justice”. Thus, these two literary techniques additionally comprise a simple chiasmus:

[a] “all mankind were fallen . . .
[b] grasp of justice . . .
[b] justice of God . . .
[a] cut off from his presence.”

This kind of “linkage” abounds as the passage continues. Alma hitches one concept to another by the use of one poetic device after another until an incredibly complex chain of thought is created. The concept of “justice” in verse 14 links to and introduces a second broader chiastic structure in verse 15:

[a] “the grasp of justice . . .
[b] the plan of mercy
[c] could not be brought about
[d] except an atonement . . . be made
[d] therefore, God himself atoneth . . .
[c] to bring about
[b] the plan of mercy
[a] to appease . . . justice”

This chiasmus in verse 15 concludes with another simple synthetic parallelism:

“that God might be a perfect, just God

and a merciful God also.”

Verse 16 then picks up the thread of “repentance”, one of the three central themes along with “justice” and “mercy” introduced in verse 13. What follows is again a combination, or “hybrid”, device in which Alma combines “antimetabole” with a “repeated alternate” parallelism. Antimetabole is a poetic device that contrasts one idea against another. In verse 16 this is the idea of “punishment”, which is “opposite to . . . happiness”. But this contrast is embellished with a repeated alternate parallelism:

“Repentence could not come unto men . . .

[a] except there were a punishment . . .
[b] which also was eternal
[c] as the life of the soul . . .
[a] opposite the plan of happiness
[b] which was eternal also
[c] as the life of the soul.”

Verse 17 introduces a parallelism that ties back to verse 16:

v. 16 “repentance could not come
except there were a punishment

v. 17 could a man repent
except he should sin?”

What follows then is a rather extraordinary poetic device knows as “climax”. Our English word and the poetic device both come from the Greek,  meaning “ladder” or “staircase”. In this device, clauses are arranged in succession so that the last important word of one clause is repeated as the first important word of the next, each clause in turn surpassing its predecessor in importance of thought. (Herbert Smyth, id., at p. 677). The poetic figure is rare in Greek, but not uncommon in The Book of Mormon. In verse 17 the climax appears so:

[a] “How could a man repent
[b] except he should sin?
[b] How could he sin,
[c] if there was no law?
[c] How could there be a law
[d] save there was a punishment?

Note additionally how the word “repent” that initiates the climax and the word ”punishment” that ends it both tie back to the words “repentance” and “punishment” in verse 16, “repentance could not come . . . except there were a punishment”. It’s as though Alma was not content to create the single climatic parallelism, but had to link it back to an earlier statement to create a double parallelism.

The climax in verse 17 then unwinds into yet another chiasmus in verse 18:

[a] “How could he sin
[b] if there was no law . . .
[c] save there was a punishment . . .
[c] there was a punishment . . .
[b] and a just law given,
[a] which brought remorse . . .”

Charms On The Links Of A Bracelet

The next four verses from 19 through 22 are linked by yet another poetic device known as cycloides, a Greek term referring to a circle or a round. In this device a phrase is repeated at intervals, as in a cycle. In this segment of Alma’s discourse the repetition is clear and precise:

v. 19 “if there was no law given . . .”
v. 20 “if there was no law given . . .”
v. 21 “if there was no law given . . .”
v. 22 “there is a law given . . .”

Each of these four verses embodies yet at least one additional poetic device, as though they were charms hanging on separate links of a chain bracelet. Verse 19 creates another chiasmus:

v. 19 “if there was no law given . . .
[a] if a man murdered
[b] he should die
[c] would he be afraid
[b] he would die
[a] if he should murder?”

Verse 20 introduces a simple repetition through a device called polyptoton, which involves pairing cognates of the same root word, such as the verb and noun in the phrase “I have dreamed a dream. In verse 20 the polyptoton occurs in the pairing of the noun “sin” with the verb “sin” :

v. 20 “if there was no law given . . .
[a] against sin . . .
[a] afraid to sin.”

Verse 21 interjects additional simple repetitions in the words “justice” and “mercy” and the first phrase in a device known as epibole, or random repetition. The phrase is seen initially in verse 21 and repeats later:

v. 21 “if there was no law given . . .
no claim upon the creature?”

Verse 22 twice employs a device known as polysyndeton, a Greek word describing repetition created by the use of the word “and”. The same verse also completes the epibole introduced with the phrase in verse 21, “claim upon the creature”:

v. 22 “there is a law given . . .
[a] and a punishment affixed
[a] and a repentance granted . . .
justice claimeth the creature
[b] and executeth the law
[b] and the law inflicteth the punishment . . .

This verse is then capped with the very phrase that introduced the argument in verse 13: “if not so, the works of justice would be destroyed, and God would cease to be God. The argument developed in verses 13 through 22 is labored and complex, and Alma, perhaps realizing this, then summarizes virtually the same argument more concisely and even more powerfully by framing it in virtually the same repeated phrases. The initial argument in ten verses is framed at the beginning and the end with the phrase “God would cease to be God”. Alma then repeats the argument in three verses, again with the same opening in verse 23: “God ceaseth not to be God” and the same closing in verse 25: “God would cease to be God”.

The Climax Of The Argument

Verse 23 then introduces yet another brilliant climax, or “staircase”, beginning and ending with simple parallelisms:

v. 23 “God ceaseth not to be God
[a] and mercy claimeth the penitent
[a] and mercy cometh
[b] because of the atonement
[b] and the atonement bringeth to pass
[c] the resurrection of the dead
[c] and the resurrection of the dead
[d] bringeth . . . into the presence of God
[d] thus . . . restored into his presence.”

What is particularly compelling about the use of climax here to repeat and summarize the argument is the dramatic emphasis created by “climbing” the “staircase” back into the presence of God. The poetic technique of climax seems particularly suited to describe the process by which the lowly penitent ascends into the Lord’s presence. In this instance, Alma fused form and content in the most ingenious and sublime fashion. At least one other Book of Mormon writer recognized the utter mastery of this particular usage, because he imitated it, not just once, but at least twice. In Mormon 9:12-13 the prophet Moroni fashioned a climax that begins with the fall of Adam and concludes with man being “brought back into the presence of the Lord.” Similarly, in Moroni 8:25-26 Moroni fashioned another climax that begins with the principle of repentance and ends “when all the saints shall dwell with God.” One intuits that Moroni kept the plates of Alma close at hand.

The technique here is doubly compelling because not only is there a climax in returning to the presence of God, but Alma is also fashioning a climax to the argument developed in the previous verses beginning with verse 13. In verse 24 he succinctly summarizes the conclusions of his argument with a kind of extended alternate parallelism that echoes verse 13:

[a] “Justice exerciseth all his demands,
[b] and mercy claimeth all which is her own
[c] and thus none but the truly penitent are saved.”

If after all this, the reader still entertains any doubt on the doctrine, Alma in verse 25 asks and answers a simple rhetorical question to cap the climatic build up of his argument and to bring it full circle with an echo of his initial premise:

“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.”

So much could be said about the repetition of this particular poetic figure, “God would cease to be God”. It builds in the mind like a progression of rolling thunder, and in this respect resembles Cicero’s great oration against the conspirator Catiline in which, through the repetition of multiple rhetorical devices, particularly rhetorical questions, he reduced Catiline’s nobility to a mere absurdity, a sham. Interestingly, Alma accomplishes something rather just the opposite here. He establishes the just and merciful nobility of God by alluding to and repeating the absurdity that God would ever cease to be God.

The Artistry Of A Master

Hopefully, this somewhat tedious exegesis demonstrates that the structure of Alma’s argument is incredibly intricate and complex. The poetic parallelisms are so carefully and subtly layered that by the end of the argument virtually every word resonates with, and echoes, a multitude of previous statements. I have read the argument closely and examined the various poetic devices again and again, and yet I am certain I have not captured all of its intricacies. The complex structure itself is built around one central idea, that “God himself atoneth for the sins of the world”, undoubtedly suggesting a complexity and intricacy in the atonement of Christ that is profound beyond any exegesis. Here again, Alma may well have intended to fuse form and content to reflect complexity of subject matter through complexity of style.

While the many poetic devices found in Alma’s writing are ancient and undoubtedly awkward at least initially to the modern mind, nevertheless they are genuine techniques and reflect valid, authentic poetry, not mere rhetoric. Yes, the passage forms part of a discourse, and might easily be deemed a sermon or a patch of oratory. And yes, the passage also does not quite resemble any poetic form the modern Western mind is generally accustomed to, like a lyric or an epic. But the passage does fall readily into the genre of didactic poetry. Didactic poetry, at least in academic circles, has not been very popular for quite some time, perhaps not since the Augustan poets John Dryden and Alexander Pope in the late 17^th and early 18^th centuries. Yet, the current distaste for didactic poetry does not diminish its authenticity as a genre.

Not only in this passage, but also throughout chapters 32 through 42, Alma’s use of various poetic devices admits to so much variation that his artistry would seem inexhaustible. One word alone characterizes it – virtuosity, virtuosity on an order that with repeated reading seems no less impressive in its own realm than that of Mozart in his realm, or of Shakespeare in his. In the world of this poetry, a didactic poetry distinguished by the use of parallelisms, Alma was unquestionably a master.