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Ups. And Downs.

Ups. And Downs.

Last updated on: November 2, 2025 at 5:02 pm by Dan Peterson

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Ups. And Downs. 2025-11-02T17:02:25-07:00 Dan Peterson

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This image alone is enough to take me right back, although we always had much, much better seats, usually along the first- or third-base lines. (Wikimedia Commons public domain photo)

I was born and raised in greater Los Angeles — and as a fan of the Los Angeles Dodgers. Because of business connections, my father was sometimes given excellent seats along the first-base or third-base lines at Dodger Stadium. I was definitely spoiled. (I recall going to a game once with my Boy Scout troop and, for the first time, being seated out in right field. I could barely see what was going on.)

I was in the seats in 1962 when Sandy Koufax pitched his first no-hitter (against the Mets). In 1988, I came back to my parents’ house from giving a fireside down in Southern California to find my father upstairs, watching the first game of the World Series between Los Angeles and Oakland. It was the bottom of the ninth inning. The Dodgers were losing 4-3. They had a runner on base, but there were already two outs. I arrived just at the moment that Kirk Gibson was brought in as a pinch hitter, and I stood there, watching. What the heck, I thought. I might as well see the final out. The count went full, to 3-2. I remember commenting to my father that, if this were a Hollywood movie, the injured, aging slugger would hit a home run and win the game, hobbling in amazed triumph around the bases as the crowd went wild. I was thinking of Roy Hobbs in The Natural. And then Gibson hit the home run and hobbled around the bases as the crowd went wild. It’s a favorite memory of mine with my father. We stood there, speechless.

Dad would have loved the 2025 World Series. It was one of the greats, and the Toronto Blue Jays, even if crushed by unexpected defeat when victory seemed almost assured, can be very proud of their performance in it. But I have to say that, as a life-long Dodger fan, I’m still glowing from last night. Partly for my father, I watched a fair amount of the game, including the last several innings. It was a magnificent game and a magnificent comeback. And we won!

And, oh yes: The University of Utah did really well against Cincinnati last night, too. Since the Utes represent my adopted state, I’m happy when they win — unless, of course, they’re playing against BYU.

“An angel appears to Alma the Younger and the sons of Mosiah”
(Minerva Teichert, ca 1950-51; LDS.org)

Written several hours after the sentences above, as the glow from the World Series has largely faded: When I was young, a piece of vocal music based upon Alma 29:1-2 was extremely popular among Latter-day Saints:

1 O that I were an angel, and could have the wish of mine heart, that I might go forth and speak with the trump of God, with a voice to shake the earth, and cry repentance unto every people!

2 Yea, I would declare unto every soul, as with the voice of thunder, repentance and the plan of redemption, that they should repent and come unto our God, that there might not be more sorrow upon all the face of the earth.

It may still be popular, for all I know. But I myself haven’t heard it for many years now.

Perhaps from overexposure to the song, I came to dislike it and, to some degree, it soured me on the two verses that it had set to music. Quite unjustifiably so. Today, I’ve come to appreciate Oh, that I were angel!, as I remember it, much more than I once did. And I’ve come to share Alma’s sentiment very deeply.

As I encounter distressing stories or am told of very sad situations, I often think how living the principles of Christianity or the Gospel — or even simply practicing kindness and love — might have prevented them, not only on the personal and interpersonal scale but on the international level. We hurt ourselves and each other so very much. And as I’ve careened through life, getting dinged here and there (and, no doubt dinging others) and seeing the wrecks that so many make of themselves and their families and those with whom they associate, I’ve come to wish that I could somehow convince everyone “that they should repent and come unto our God, that there might not be more sorrow upon all the face of the earth.”

3 But behold, I am a man, and do sin in my wish; for I ought to be content with the things which the Lord hath allotted unto me.

Alma came to view his “ambition” as overweening, and perhaps I should, as well. Time and time again in my life, though, I’ve seen others heading toward suffering and disaster — toward a dangerous waterfall, as it were — and have wished that I could help them to see what was before them while it could still be avoided. Usually, alas, it hasn’t worked.

Unfortunately, I have reason again today to feel as the speaker in Alma 29:1-2 did. Of course, some of the sorrows and the trials, the setbacks and tests and injuries and wounds that befall us in mortality are inescapable. But many of them are not. We bring them upon ourselves or upon others by our own poor choices. And, so, the Lord weeps.

[For a more extended reflection upon the passage, see Daniel C. Peterson, “Oh, That I Were an Angel!.” Interpreter: A Journal of Latter-day Saint Faith and Scholarship 48 (2021): vii-xiv, https://journal.interpreterfoundation.org/oh-that-i-were-an-angel/.]

A fairly typical Latter-day Saint meetinghouse — this one located adjacent to the Bismarck North Dakota Temple, which is visible in the background. (Wikimedia Commons public domain image). My Dad would have been amused by the progress of the Church in the heavily Scandinavian and Lutheran state where he was born and raised.

Something else to consider from the Hitchens File: “Opinion: The antidote to political violence lives in our faith communities: The most powerful defense against political violence is not found in civics textbooks, legislative policy or campaign speeches. It resides in our churches, synagogues, temples and mosques”

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