1 Nephi: Headnote, Part VIII
“Their sufferings and afflictions in the wilderness.”
Nephi has already mentioned “sufferings” once in his headnote, with respect to his first trip back to Jerusalem (see 1 Nephi: Headnote, Part V). The sufferings mentioned here are different, though: these are the sufferings of his entire extended family—wife and children, brothers and sisters, nieces and nephews, etc.—while “in the wilderness.” In fact, we know from 1 Nephi 17:4 that they spent “eight years in the wilderness,” so that’s a pretty good chunk of time for some pretty intense “sufferings” to occur.
What happened to the families while in the wilderness? 1 Nephi 16 gives us some clue—hunger and even death were definitely part of their travails—but I suspect it was a lot more than that. Discomfort was probably the rule of the day, even in the city of Jerusalem. They didn’t have climate-controlled homes as do we, nor even electricity. They didn’t have running water in their homes. They didn’t have cars to hop over to Walmart—and even if they had, there wasn’t even a corner store for probably 50 miles. None of this was out of the ordinary for them, but it surely made for a life more rife with suffering than we can begin to imagine.
Despite their obvious Bedouin lifestyle (see Hugh Nibley’s Lehi in the Desert
for an amazing treatment of this), they had been removed from the lands that they knew and were living, as it were, in the wilderness. They had no flocks with them, for they never would have survived the harsher portions of desert. They had no riches, so even the occasional trader that happened along would have had little to do with them. What about illness? Surely people got sick, and who knows what kind of remedies were available “in the wilderness”? What about childbirth? We know that they “bore children in the wilderness (1 Nephi 17:1), but how many of those children lived? (You can bet it wasn’t all of them!)
That Nephi recognizes that all suffered with him is again is testament to his understanding. Every member of that party had faith, to one degree or another; and every member of that party had his or her faith tested, to the very extent that he or she could bear. If, as we so often hear, the “Mormon” pioneers’ nineteenth-century trek to Deseret was “a refiner’s fire” for all those involved, the Lehite party’s trek was no less so for them.
Likening the scriptures unto myself:
I have already pointed out that our current home is somewhat “in the wilderness.” What I neglected to mention are the “afflictions” we have suffered as a result. Working from home is a wonderful blessing, but it also affects both my job and my family in negative ways. The overlap of home/work life is significant, when one’s office is part of his house, and while I love seeing my wife and children throughout the day, it is obvious that both facets of life have effect on the other.
More significantly, I attribute the death of our son Daniel to our living “in the wilderness.” When we were in the suburbs of Indianapolis, we had easy access to some of the best medical professionals we could ask for. It is only through their constant care that our son David arrived safe and sound, and I truly believe that that same level of care could have saved Daniel, as well. What we did get was an obstetrician that basically told us, from day one, that we shouldn’t get our hopes up—and acted accordingly. But that’s another story.
The point remains that life is a series of successes and failures, but many of those failures are a direct result of the decisions we make, even when those decisions are right. In all of my sufferings—in the wilderness or otherwise—what has God wanted me to learn? Have I learned it?
What happened to the families while in the wilderness? 1 Nephi 16 gives us some clue—hunger and even death were definitely part of their travails—but I suspect it was a lot more than that. Discomfort was probably the rule of the day, even in the city of Jerusalem. They didn’t have climate-controlled homes as do we, nor even electricity. They didn’t have running water in their homes. They didn’t have cars to hop over to Walmart—and even if they had, there wasn’t even a corner store for probably 50 miles. None of this was out of the ordinary for them, but it surely made for a life more rife with suffering than we can begin to imagine.
Despite their obvious Bedouin lifestyle (see Hugh Nibley’s Lehi in the Desert
for an amazing treatment of this), they had been removed from the lands that they knew and were living, as it were, in the wilderness. They had no flocks with them, for they never would have survived the harsher portions of desert. They had no riches, so even the occasional trader that happened along would have had little to do with them. What about illness? Surely people got sick, and who knows what kind of remedies were available “in the wilderness”? What about childbirth? We know that they “bore children in the wilderness (1 Nephi 17:1), but how many of those children lived? (You can bet it wasn’t all of them!)That Nephi recognizes that all suffered with him is again is testament to his understanding. Every member of that party had faith, to one degree or another; and every member of that party had his or her faith tested, to the very extent that he or she could bear. If, as we so often hear, the “Mormon” pioneers’ nineteenth-century trek to Deseret was “a refiner’s fire” for all those involved, the Lehite party’s trek was no less so for them.
Likening the scriptures unto myself:
I have already pointed out that our current home is somewhat “in the wilderness.” What I neglected to mention are the “afflictions” we have suffered as a result. Working from home is a wonderful blessing, but it also affects both my job and my family in negative ways. The overlap of home/work life is significant, when one’s office is part of his house, and while I love seeing my wife and children throughout the day, it is obvious that both facets of life have effect on the other.
More significantly, I attribute the death of our son Daniel to our living “in the wilderness.” When we were in the suburbs of Indianapolis, we had easy access to some of the best medical professionals we could ask for. It is only through their constant care that our son David arrived safe and sound, and I truly believe that that same level of care could have saved Daniel, as well. What we did get was an obstetrician that basically told us, from day one, that we shouldn’t get our hopes up—and acted accordingly. But that’s another story.
The point remains that life is a series of successes and failures, but many of those failures are a direct result of the decisions we make, even when those decisions are right. In all of my sufferings—in the wilderness or otherwise—what has God wanted me to learn? Have I learned it?
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