Learning

Mormon faith tradition integrates religious and secular education into a unified pursuit of truth.

The acquisition of knowledge, skill, and understanding through disciplined study and lived experience is a central motif of scriptural theology. It is particularly instructive to observe that in the lexicon of ancient Hebrew, the concepts of the learner and the teacher are intimately intertwined within a single linguistic root. The verb lamad, denoting “to learn,” finds best expression in limmed, meaning “to teach,” while the noun talmid specifically designates a pupil or disciple. Intriguingly, this identical root produces malmad, the ox goad famously wielded by Shamgar when he slew six hundred Philistines⁠—an implement expressly designed to keep a working animal moving persistently within its proper furrow. A parallel dynamic is evident in the Greek text of the New Testament, where manthanō, “to learn,” yields mathētēs, the precise term translated as “disciple.” Thus, every disciple of Jesus Christ is, by definition, a learner, bound by covenant to answer the supernal invitation to “learn of me; for I am meek and lowly in heart” (Matthew 11:29).

Learned and Hearkening

Within the Book of Mormon, we encounter what casual readers frequently misinterpret as a broad condemnation of secular education. The prophet Jacob solemnly laments “the vainness, and the frailties, and the foolishness of men,” observing that “when they are learned they think they are wise, and they hearken not unto the counsel of God.” Yet, the subsequent sentence entirely reframes this apparent hostility: “But to be learned is good if they hearken unto the counsels of God” (2 Nephi 9:28-29). Jacob’s fundamental critique is directed specifically toward intellectual pursuits that have deliberately severed themselves from the anchor of divine revelation, thereby establishing the precise conditions under which mortal scholarship devolves into spiritual arrogance. As esteemed Latter-day Saint scholars such as Hugh Nibley have insightfully articulated, this passage serves as a foundational charter for rigorous intellectual inquiry conducted within a framework of profound humility.

Furthermore, the Epistle to the Hebrews reveals that Christ Himself engaged in a profound process of mortal education: “Though he were a Son, yet learned he obedience by the things which he suffered” (Hebrews 5:8). The Greek text deliberately pairs emathen (“he learned”) with epathen (“he suffered”), a sophisticated paronomasia that would have immediately evoked the classical proverb pathei mathos⁠—learning through suffering⁠—familiar to audiences conversant with the writings of Aeschylus. The Savior's mortal education thus proceeded through experience in the body, and His example suggests that some forms of understanding can be acquired only by passing through the conditions they concern. Learning of this kind cannot be transmitted as information, because it consists in a changed capacity of the learner.

Intelligence That Rises

Restoration theology frames learning as a moral imperative. The early Saints were explicitly enjoined to “seek ye out of the best books words of wisdom; seek learning, even by study and also by faith” (D&C 88:118), a mandate that found practical expression in the School of the Prophets in Kirtland, where theological, linguistic, and secular curricula were integrated into a unified pursuit of truth. A subsequent revelation profoundly declares that “the glory of God is intelligence, or, in other words, light and truth” (D&C 93:36). The Prophet Joseph Smith similarly taught that a person is saved no faster than they acquire knowledge. Within this expansive theological framework, the diligent pursuit of learning is not peripheral but constitutes an essential component of salvation itself, encompassing a curriculum that spans from ancient scripture to the modern sciences.

Perhaps the most rhetorically and doctrinally significant statement regarding this process concerns that which ultimately survives the transition of physical death: “Whatever principle of intelligence we attain unto in this life, it will rise with us in the resurrection. And if a person gains more knowledge and intelligence in this life through his diligence and obedience than another, he will have so much the advantage in the world to come” (D&C 130:18-19). This revelation identifies the required means of acquisition⁠—namely, diligence and obedience⁠—and frames acquired intelligence as an indelible, ontological property of the resurrected being. The Lord’s pedagogical method is consequently incremental and deliberate, dispensing truth “precept upon precept; line upon line” (Isaiah 28:10), perfectly proportioned to the expanding capacity of the learner to receive and integrate divine light.

Machine Learning and the Learner

In our contemporary technological landscape, the phrase “machine learning” designates the sophisticated statistical methodologies by which artificial systems acquire specific operational capacities from vast repositories of data. Such computational systems are already being deployed to tutor students, synthesize academic literature, and generate prose, while certain transhumanist thinkers actively anticipate the development of brain-computer interfaces intended to facilitate the direct neurological uploading of information. Prominent philosophers of cognitive science, such as Andy Clark and David Chalmers, have advanced the thesis that the human mind literally extends into the external tools it reliably utilizes, a framework that would theoretically categorize a well-integrated artificial assistant as a constituent element of the learner’s own cognitive architecture. Viewed this way, the definitive boundary between what an individual intrinsically knows and what they merely have the capacity to access is reduced to a matter of functional convenience.

However, the revelations of the Restoration demand a substantially more rigorous standard for true progression. The intelligence that successfully rises in the resurrection is attained strictly through the crucible of personal diligence and obedience, just as the Savior’s own profound learning required that He personally pass through the very conditions He came to infinitely comprehend. Notably, a 2025 study conducted at the MIT Media Lab documented marked decreases in both neural engagement and subsequent recall among students who relied upon large language models to draft essays⁠—an early empirical indication that the artificial delegation of cognitive effort may ultimately leave the human learner fundamentally unchanged. Therefore, Mormon transhumanists and others who seek to judiciously integrate artificial tutors and cognitive enhancements into their educational pursuits are obligated to employ them precisely as the ancient malmad, or ox goad, was utilized: as an implement designed strictly to keep the learner moving diligently forward within the proper furrow of personal effort. Only through this sustained, embodied engagement can we ensure that the knowledge we acquire becomes an eternal possession that the individual will carry into the world to come.