Title: Psalm and Selah: A Poetic Journey Through the Book of Mormon
Author: Mark D. Bennion
Publisher: Parables
Genre: Poetry
Year Published: 2009
Number of Pages: 109
Binding: Paperback
ISBN10: n/a
ISBN13: 978-1-61539-804-1
Price: $6.99
Reviewed by Jeffrey Needle
Every trip to Salt Lake City is marked by meetings with remarkable
people. This last trip is no exception. Spending my days at LDS
Booksellers is always an adventure, even if the law of diminishing
returns applies. I always end up meeting someone I’ve reviewed, someone
I’ve critiqued, and the meetings are always pleasant. My chat with
Gerald Lund was delightful, even if I’ve been critical of “The Work and
the Glory.” It’s clear that authors don’t need my approval, a feeling
with which I heartily agree.
I met Mark Bennion as I prepared to give my talk at the Eborn Book
Event, titled “Reading Mormon Literature Through Jewish Eyes.” As a
grandson of Lowell Bennion, one of my great folk-heroes of Mormonism, I
was delighted to meet Mark and to share some thoughts with him. Turns
out he’s written a book. He presented me with a copy, and I’m sure by
now thinks I’ve forgotten all about it. Ha! No such luck.
Presenting the Book of Mormon in poetic form is not new. I’ve seen at
least one (titled something like, “Oh Remember, Oh Remember”) and have
never been impressed with any of them. It’s a hard job, telling the
Book of Mormon story in poetic form. I began to wonder why anyone would
bother.
Bennion has put together a small series of poems, written by him, that
express not just the story of the Book of Mormon, but how those stories
have affected him over the years. As such, it is a deeply personal
reflection, almost a meditation, on that book so familiar to all of us.
I’m going to reproduce one of these poems. It’s titled “Chemish
Explains Himself”:
I gave up the plates
because sometimes it’s okay
to offer a verse, hand over the chisel,
and continue on. I know
what I have written has been too small,
too little for the whiplash of history
and the future’s promising sun.
I just keep my distance, unsure
of what to add if the record returns,
august and redolent
of visions or earthquakes to come.
Sometimes it’s better to live outside
your posterity’s verdict, to let them
stride over speculation or a gist of story.
They’ll know soon enough
the mind-drumming madness
of what most of us ignore or regret:
spilt blood, pestilence, sin.
(p. 37)
I don’t know about you, but phrases like “mind-numbing madness” and “the
whiplash of history” tend to distract me from the poem itself, forcing
my feeble mind to go into corners it’s better off avoiding. But what
makes me like this little book so much is that it makes me think. I can
imagine no higher praise.
Perhaps some can hear echoes of Lowell Bennion in this poetry. Those of
us who have read “The Things That Matter Most” will recall the wonderful
way in which Bennion was able to teach us about ultimate truth would
being preachy or common. Mark Bennion seems to have something of this
talent, and we can only be grateful for that.
Mark currently teaches at BYU-Idaho. It’s a great day when a man of
academia can produce such a readable and moving volume as this is. When
he handed me the book, he modestly described it as nothing much, just
something I might want to read. On the contrary, this is one of the
nicest reads I’ve encountered in a while.
Bennion is to be congratulated for his good work. Here’s hoping we see
more from him in the future.
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