In a recent episode of the Mormon Stories Podcast, host John Dehlin interviews Dr. John Lundwall, who presents a sweeping critique of the Book of Mormon. His central claim is that the text is fundamentally anachronistic—not just in specific details, but in its entire worldview—because it reflects a highly literate, text-centered religious culture that supposedly could not have existed in the ancient world.
At first glance, this framework appears compelling. It draws on real distinctions in anthropology between oral and literate societies and raises legitimate questions about historical plausibility. However, when examined closely, the argument suffers from a series of logical missteps, definitional inconsistencies, and overgeneralizations that significantly weaken its conclusions.
The core of Dr. Lundwall’s argument is that ancient societies, particularly those in the ancient Near East and pre-Columbian Americas, were primarily oral. Religion, therefore, was practiced through ritual, myth, and performance—not through texts. Because the Book of Mormon presents a world where religion is mediated through reading, writing, and scripture, he concludes that it reflects a much later, modern worldview.
This starting point has some merit. Oral transmission was indeed dominant in many ancient societies, and literacy rates were generally low. But the argument quickly moves beyond these reasonable observations into much more rigid—and problematic—territory.
One of the most significant issues is how the argument handles the concept of a “book.” Throughout the discussion, the term shifts in meaning. At times, it refers specifically to a modern bound codex. At other times, it is used more broadly to mean any written record. This is a classic case of equivocation—using the same term with different meanings without acknowledging the shift.
Ancient societies may not have had modern books, but they absolutely had written records. Scrolls were common in the Mediterranean and Near East. Clay tablets were used extensively in Mesopotamia. Most importantly, Mesoamerican civilizations developed codices—folded, screen-like documents that functioned as portable repositories of religious, calendrical, and historical knowledge. These codices are, functionally speaking, books.
Closely related is a broader structural problem in the argument: the framing of orality and literacy as mutually exclusive categories. Dr. Lundwall presents oral cultures as ritual-based and non-textual, and literate cultures as text-based and abstract. But this binary does not reflect historical reality. Most societies operate on a spectrum where oral and written systems coexist and reinforce each other.
Ancient Israel, for example, combined temple rituals with written traditions. Egypt maintained elaborate ritual systems alongside extensive textual corpora. The Maya preserved religious and historical knowledge both through ritual performance and through written codices. The presence of ritual does not imply the absence of texts. These are overlapping systems, not opposing ones.
This leads to a deeper conceptual issue: a category error in how “textual religion” is defined. The argument assumes that for a religion to be considered textual, it must be primarily practiced through reading. But even if ritual is the dominant mode of practice, texts can still play a central role in preserving doctrine, standardizing rituals, and legitimizing authority. The existence of ritual does not negate the importance of texts.
A recurring pattern in the reasoning further weakens the argument. It often proceeds as follows: ancient societies relied on ritual and cosmology; therefore, they did not use texts; therefore, any text-centered narrative is anachronistic. The second step simply does not follow from the first. This is a non sequitur. The prominence of ritual does not logically exclude the use of written records.
Another issue is the tendency to generalize from specific anthropological examples to all ancient societies. Dr. Lundwall draws heavily on data from particular cultures, such as the Fremont people, and applies those patterns broadly across vastly different civilizations. This is an overgeneralization. Societies differ widely in complexity, technological development, and use of writing. A small-scale, non-literate culture cannot serve as a universal model for all ancient peoples.
The argument also frequently escalates claims from improbability to impossibility. Statements about the nonexistence of certain materials, writing systems, or practices are often presented as definitive, when they are better understood as unlikely or debated. This shift from “improbable” to “impossible” is a logical error that overstates the strength of the evidence.
The archaeological argument presented in the podcast is one of the stronger elements of the critique. It is reasonable to expect that a large, literate civilization would leave some identifiable traces. However, even here the argument is presented with more certainty than the data supports. It assumes that we know what evidence should look like, that it would be preserved, and that it would be clearly identifiable. Archaeology is inherently incomplete, and preservation is uneven. While the lack of evidence raises important questions, it does not conclusively resolve them.
Another point raised concerns the physical feasibility of fitting the Book of Mormon text onto the described plates. This argument assumes that the length of the English translation reflects the original text and that writing systems would require similar space. It also assumes no compression or abbreviation techniques. These assumptions are speculative. Without knowing the original encoding system, claims of impossibility are not well supported.
Finally, the argument relies on an outdated view of human cognition. It suggests that oral cultures think primarily in concrete, analogical terms, while literate cultures think abstractly. Modern anthropology rejects this sharp division. Oral societies are fully capable of complex and abstract thought; they simply encode and transmit knowledge differently. Reducing them to a fundamentally different or inferior mode of thinking weakens the overall analysis.
The most significant logical leap comes at the conclusion. After identifying various tensions and inconsistencies, the argument asserts that the entire Book of Mormon is therefore anachronistic and non-historical. This is a composition fallacy. Problems in specific elements do not automatically invalidate the whole. Even strong critiques require careful, proportional conclusions.
In the end, Dr. Lundwall’s argument on the Mormon Stories Podcast raises an important and worthwhile question about the role of literacy and textuality in ancient societies. However, the force of that question is diminished by inconsistent definitions, false dichotomies, overgeneralizations, and overstated conclusions. A more careful and nuanced approach would preserve the strength of the critique while avoiding these logical pitfalls.
