[Page 211]Review of Deidre Nicole Green, Jacob: A Brief Theological Introduction (Provo, UT: The Neal A. Maxwell Institute for Religious Scholarship, 2020). 148 pages. $9.99 (paperback).
Abstract: Deidre Nicole Green, a postdoctoral research fellow at the Neal A. Maxwell Institute for Religious Scholarship, offers an analysis of the theology of the book of Jacob with her new contribution to the Institute’s brief theological introduction series to the Book of Mormon. Green focuses on the theology of social justice in Jacob’s teachings, centering much of her book on how the Nephite prophet framed issues of atonement and salvation on both personal and societal levels. Her volume offers some intriguing new readings of otherwise familiar Book of Mormon passages.
Deidre Nicole Green is a postdoctoral research fellow at the Neal A. Maxwell Institute for Religious Scholarship and is the author of the institute’s volume on the book of Jacob in its series of brief theological introductions to the Book of Mormon.1 Green brings with her a PhD in Religion from Claremont Graduate University, a Master of Arts in Religion from Yale Divinity School, and a Bachelor of Arts in Philosophy from Brigham Young University. Besides these impressive credentials, as a specialist on the Danish philosopher Søren Kierkegaard — one of the [Page 212]most influential and important Christian philosophers of the modern age — Green is well equipped to provide theological analysis.2
Although it is a relatively short book in the Book of Mormon, the book of Jacob is nevertheless theologically dense. Not only does it feature Jacob’s important temple sermon (Jacob 2–3) but also Zenos’s allegory of the olive tree (Jacob 5) and the confrontation with Sherem (Jacob 7). The prophet providing us this content was the “firstborn in the days of [Lehi’s] tribulation in the wilderness” (2 Nephi 2:1). As Green observes in her introductory remarks, this makes Jacob a “unique voice in the Book of Mormon” who offers a “rare and distinct perspective” on account of his vulnerable upbringing. “Jacob concerns himself largely with issues of social justice,” she writes, “demonstrating that religious life and social life should not be separated into distinct spheres. Jacob’s personal experience of suffering, his compassion for those on the margins of society, his concern for equality, and his commitment to forming a faithful and just community inform his testimony of Jesus Christ in a way that highlights many of the salient issues of the twenty-first century” (2).
After her introduction (2–5), Green structures her theological analysis of the book of Jacob as follows: a brief biography of Jacob (8–15), a look at Jacob’s theodicy and theology of holy suffering (18–28), Jacob’s teachings on building a sacred society (30–57), the temple sermon (60–93), the allegory of the olive tree (96–107), and final thoughts and conclusion (110–121). The theological stream Green identifies running through the book of Jacob is summarized in her conclusion: “[Jacob] invites all people to view the death of Christ and, I believe, to view every aspect of reality through the lens of reconciliation that it affords. In this way, we are reminded of God’s infinite and ever available love. … This love shows us the way through to flourishing and fruitfulness, reminding us that all objectives worth seeking ultimately rely upon faithful communities who strive to reach back in love toward the divine for their attainment” (120). As would befit a social justice prophet like Jacob, Green emphasizes that the “communal and faithful” love of God “requires us to see all human beings as equals, a vision that is facilitated by viewing one another through the lens of the death of Christ: we are all equally in need of reconciliation to God and all equally loved by both God and Christ, a truth attested by Christ’s willingness to suffer and make the atonement equally available to all” (120).
[Page 213]There was much that I appreciated about Green’s analysis of the book of Jacob. I was particularly interested in her reading of the allegory of the olive tree as more than just pertaining to the scattering and gathering of Israel. While this is certainly the primary intent of the allegory, Jacob 5 can also, as Green shows, be fruitfully read as touching on the atonement of Jesus Christ and the reconciliation of humanity with God. “Jacob senses deeply his responsibility to teach that the atonement is universally accessible, necessary, and efficacious and that it not only restores individuals and societies torn apart by trauma and sin to wholeness but also seals relationships with the divine and with others” (99–100). Green’s Christological and soteriological reading of Zenos’s allegory was a new, invigorating way of approaching the text I had never before considered and found most welcome. Indeed, although it should have been more obvious, it had never before occurred to me that the eschatological restoration of Israel and the infinite atonement of Israel’s Messiah are two theological matters that are deeply intertwined. As such, reading them together simultaneously in Jacob 5 strikes me as entirely appropriate. As Green writes,
This allegory is most often understood in terms of the scattering and gathering of Israel as an integral part of divine covenant. It can also be read in more expansive terms, with the restored vineyard representing the integration, reconciliation, and wholeness possible only through the atonement of Jesus Christ for both individuals and societies who have been fragmented and disintegrated through traumatic experience or sin. This reading amplifies the breadth and profundity of God’s love for humanity. (100)
True to the theme of the book, Green couches this soteriology in the context of social justice. “Just as Jacob has shown us that all suffering and sin are inherently social, so too is the work of redemption. In Jacob 5 we read an elaboration of how it is that communities are healed and reconciled, and we avail ourselves of a greater appreciation and understanding concerning the fact that atonement operates on every level of existence, reconciling individuals to themselves, to God, and with their communities” (100–101). While I found her analysis insightful overall, I was disappointed that Green does not appear to draw from or otherwise alert her readers to the significant 1994 volume The Allegory [Page 214]of the Olive Tree: The Olive, the Bible, and Jacob 5.3 Not only is this landmark publication on Jacob 5 essential reading on Zenos’s allegory, but it also extends theological insights into this chapter that would have nicely complimented Green’s own reading.4
I was likewise underwhelmed somewhat by Green’s reading of the temple sermon in Jacob 2–3. Green correctly identifies the three cardinal sins in Nephite society of his time that Jacob singles out and condemns (namely: classism, sexual immorality, and racial prejudice) and articulates some important theological points that can be drawn from the temple sermon in addressing these systemic problems that sadly still haunt us today (60–93). However, Green’s examination and the points she draws out from Jacob’s sermon, while helpful, could have been strengthened with some historicized perspective such as is offered by Brant A. Gardner. As Gardner explores at length, Jacob’s conceptual linkage (and subsequent condemnation) of seeking riches and unauthorized polygamy becomes more intelligible when his sermon is placed in an ancient Mesoamerican and biblical background.5 Gardner’s historicized reading, I feel, offers a more grounded context for making sense of a number of the features in Jacob’s condemnation of unauthorized, exploitative polygamy. This includes why Jacob singled out David and Solomon (Jacob 2:24) as unrighteous polygamists worthy of condemnation but not Abraham and his own ancestral namesake (cf. Genesis 16:1–3; 29:21–30; 30:1–4, 9), and also why Jacob allows for plural marriages to be contracted under specific circumstances [Page 215](Jacob 2:30).6 The issue for Jacob is not that plural marriage is inherently sinful or exploitative, only that it can be if improperly practiced.
Green is right that the problem was that the form of polygamy being practiced by the Nephites in Jacob’s day was turning women into sexual commodities that robbed them of their agency (80–85). But she could have taken her reading further by exploring, as Gardner does, how the specific historical and social circumstances of the early Nephite colony in the New World affected the content of Jacob’s temple sermon.7 As a text deriving from the ancient world (both the ancient biblical world and ancient America), at least some effort should be made on the part of the exegete to situate the Book of Mormon’s theological teachings in their ancient context before bringing other potentially useful modern interpretive paradigms into the discussion. This is not to say that Green’s reading of Jacob 2:23–35 is necessarily wrong, only that I felt it could have been stronger.
Other interesting insights Green provides in her study include her view of Sherem as a sort of ironic, unintended witness for Christ (49–57). “Jacob’s treatment of Sherem is unique in the Book of Mormon because, rather than silencing him, Jacob gives Sherem the opportunity to repent and to influence the Nephites for good by testifying of Christ and the atonement. It is Jacob’s humility and love for his neighbor that makes it possible for Sherem to be an instrument of God” (49). As with her treatment of Jacob 5, this is a noteworthy way to look at Jacob 7 I had not heretofore considered. Sure enough, the ironic outcome at Jacob 7:17–21 would seem to reinforce Green’s intriguing reading of the showdown [Page 216]between Jacob and Sherem that doesn’t strike me as being too clever for its own good (as some other recent treatments of Jacob 7 have been8).
Whatever diverging views I may have with Green on this or that point throughout her volume,9 I ultimately appreciate her sensitivity to the Book of Mormon’s emphasis on equality, which Green underscores as “a fundamental ethos” of the record. “Calling out pride, greed, and violations of the law of chastity, Jacob’s unrelenting critique of Nephite society also decries attitudes and practices that oppress based on differences in wealth, skin color, and gender” (32). In Green’s recasting, Jacob is the prophet of social justice par excellence who, mindful of his own vulnerable and marginalized origins as Lehi’s “firstborn in the wilderness” who “suffered afflictions and much sorrow” (2 Nephi 2:2– 3), boldly proclaims that love and equity towards all men and women is “required of followers of Christ” (32, emphasis in original). As with his brother Nephi who declared that “all are alike unto God” (2 Nephi 26:33), Jacob joins the chorus of ancient and modern prophets who stress that being truly reconciled through Christ can only come when the children of [Page 217]God work together “to build bridges of understanding rather than create walls of segregation.”10 Green’s brief theological introduction to Jacob’s teachings helpfully explores ways that readers of the Book of Mormon can appreciate and work toward this prophetically-mandated ideal.
Stephen O. Smoot is a doctoral student in Semitic and Egyptian Languages and Literature at the Catholic University of America. He previously earned a Master's degree in Near and Middle Eastern Civilizations from the University of Toronto and Bachelor's degrees in Ancient Near Eastern Studies and German Studies from Brigham Young University.
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5 Comment(s)
Raymond Takashi Swenson, 10-11-2021 at 7:24 pm
I am disappointed to learn that a book that is meant to introduce Latter-day Saints to an informed, scholarly illumination of the Book of Jacob does not point the reader to the many additional.insights into the olive tree parable that have been painstakingly produced and published by other LDS scholars. In a way, it is the kind of omission that some disaffected members have accused the Church of committing in its curriculum materials.
I have the Olive Tree Parable book. It is an extremely interesting expansion of olive trees and olive oil and their symbolism throughout scripture, including in the parable of the 10 virgins, and Christ’s reference to the light that came from olive oil lamps and ties to the Holy Spirit, as well the healing associated with anointing, and the connection to the Messiah/Christ and charism.
Even that comprehensive compilation does not mention a concept that I learned during my mission in Japan.. During an apostolic visit by Joseph Fielding Smith in the 1960s, he suggested that one of the alternative sites in the.parable’s vineyard where a branch of Israel was planted, referred to Japan and Korea. There are numerous real parallels between ritual practices in traditional Japanese religion and in Israel, and the lack of written history in Japan before 400 AD makes the possibility of a distantly planted branch of Israel a possibility not precluded by archeology. The legendary treasures of the Japanese imperial family, whose possession denotes the succession, are a sword, a metal mirror, and a jewel. The parallels to the Sword of Laban, the priestly breastplate, and the Urim and Thummim, are intriguing.
Erik S., 12-15-2020 at 2:38 pm
A short drive from my home is a beautiful mountain which overlooks a beautiful town at the mouth of a beautiful lake. At the top of that mountain is an overlook. Positioned around that overlook are coin-operated stationary binoculars, attached to a mounting pole, that tourists can rotate in almost any direction. From that position, and through those binoculars, a tourist can gaze down upon pretty vistas of the town, surrounding mountains, and the lake.
There are several of these mounted binoculars there, each positioned to allow the viewer a bit of freedom to rotate and angle the binoculars, and they each have a very deliberate object or vista toward which they have been generally positioned. Some are pointed at the lake, some at the town below, and some at the adjacent mountaintops.
One does not have completely free reign to spin the binoculars in all directions or angles, or point them at whatever one may like. Some vistas lie very obviously outside of the possible range of a particular viewfinder. For one pointed at a mountain, you can choose which part of that mountain to view, for example, but you can’t see (or claim to see) the town or lake through those particular binoculars. There are obvious limits to what that instrument can, and should, do.
An individual’s perspective is quite similar to those binoculars, as it happens. One cannot wrench a perspective out of its own context, nor contort it in such a way that it sees whatever is desired by the one doing the yanking. At some point, it stops becoming their perspective entirely. When we reduce theology to an intellectual sandbox wherein we twist perspectives and wring from them our chosen interpretations, we delve into mere creative writing or playful literary exploration, at best.
This installment of the “Brief Theological Introductions” series was a remarkably underwhelming read. It mistakes the mountain for the binoculars. It is certainly the weakest and least compelling of the lot, thus far (I’ve got them up to Alma pt. 1 at the time of writing). It reads like a diary, and it smacks of Green’s particular, predictable scholarly axe to grind: “womanist theology” and post-structuralist interpretation of text and narrative. In her hands, Jacob in this BTI sounds conveniently similar to Kierkegaard in her “Works of Love in a World of Violence.” Neither Jacob nor Kierkegaard seem to much resemble themselves when taken at their own word rather than at hers.
This BTI installment is hardly a serious look into the book of Jacob. Apart from a brilliant take on “embodied knowledge” (pgs. 26-27) and a genuinely ingenious application of “love as a matter of the mind” (pgs 37-38), there is nothing of any worth whatsoever for the average, non-ideologically progressive layperson in the Church. If the average layperson in the Church, though, actually now is ideologically (not merely politically) progressive, then I suppose they are in good hands with Dr. Green, even if the Church as a whole wouldn’t therefore be so.
It is a lamentable volume and is a step back for the series so early on, but I suppose it does present a different theological perspective, one that is perhaps alluded to on page vii of each book wherein it states:
“…All the rooms in this mansion [the Book of Mormon] need to be explored, whether by valued traditional scholars or by those at the cutting edge, and one LDS scholar cannot say to the other, ‘I have no need of thee.”
Dr. Green’s work certainly would not qualify as being that of a “valued traditional scholar,” and I maintain that her work is more on the “fringe” than “at the cutting edge” of LDS scholarship as aforementioned.
To this particular work, as one who is certainly not a self-proclaimed scholar by any stretch, I feel that I may freely say “I have no need of thee.”
Of course, not all books on a scriptural topic need to follow the same formats (historical insights, philosophical insights, catchy check-lists, scriptures-made-easier, popular apologetics, fun-fact styles, etc.). There should be, however, great care taken to distinguish robust scholarship (whatever that may be argued to mean in the final accounting) from the faddish tangents of the self-conscious scholarship produced by those in the various liberal arts in the modern University, who have sought novelty in thought for the sake of novelty since the late 50’s.
The BTI on Jacob is a rather squinted look, albeit technically through the eponymous prophet’s writings, out onto the wide open vista of what can be labeled “Critical Theory” as it relates to Mormonism. Luckily, Critical Theory and its frenzied offshoots haven’t yet had much place in the popularized study of Mormonism, though the field is white (very white, ironically, for some of its aims) and ready to harvest.
John Sandorf, 12-15-2020 at 6:15 am
It is always interesting to read or hear someone’s unique perspectives on well known and lesser known scriptural accounts. For that reason, Deidre Nicole Green’s interpretation of the writings of Jacob as found in the Book of Mormon is welcome. Based on this review, however, I have some concerns.
The first involves the use of the term “social justice” which, in our day, carries with it a lot of baggage. Employed in many contexts, it can be alienating. I’d much rather a treatise evaluate elements of the scriptural text without using such a loaded descriptor.
The second concern is related to the statement that Jacob’s concern with social justice demonstrates “that religious life and social life should not be separated into distinct spheres. Jacob’s personal experience of suffering, his compassion for those on the margins of society, his concern for equality, and his commitment to forming a faithful and just community inform his testimony of Jesus Christ….”
I rather view elements of the above statement inversely to how Green does. Her conclusion seems to be that social issues should inform our religious life and our testimonies of Jesus Christ whereas I see my testimony of Jesus Christ informing my perspective on and involvement with social issues. Giving social issues, or any outside influence, such a preeminence in our religious life can present a danger. When the social issue cannot be adequately addressed by one’s religious life – which one wins out? When others in our local ward or stake do not incorporate social justice platforms to the same extent as we, or perhaps not at all, does estrangement result?
Admittedly, there is a fine line between “likening the scriptures” to ourselves and “wresting the scriptures” to support a pre-existing worldview. We all tend to engage in both to a certain extent even as we try to avoid “wresting”.
I hope I have not been too harsh in my comments. To use another popular term related to social justice, perhaps there were some “triggering” words in the review that caused red flags to be raised in my mind. It will take reading Deidre Nicole Green’s work for myself to get the proper context of her thoughts.
Cheers.
Dennis Horne, 12-11-2020 at 8:19 pm
I am highly skeptical of any attempt to impose a contemporary definition of so-called “social justice” onto Jacob’s book or onto Zenos’s allegory. Jacob says nothing about dispensing doctrine so all Nephites will feel or be “equal”; he never heard of social justice. He does emphatically state that his purpose is to teach and warn the people according to what God tells him to say by the power of the Holy Spirit, so he can be rid of their sins. The alleged insight that the atonement is for all equally is nothing new and has been taught since the church was organized. It is obvious.
I do not want my understanding of scripture melded with the feminist or equality or social justice views of a graduate of a modern divinity school steeped in philosophy. Rhetorically speaking, I ask: What compliments and informs her understanding of the text?–Kierkegaard or prophets and apostles? Where are we warned about mingling the two?
Replies
Erik, 11-02-2021 at 11:21 am
She may be using the words of Kierkegaard, but she is speaking in the languages of Critical Theory. I assure you that Kierkegaard is as much of a “victim” in this tiff as is Jacob. The problem is not “philosophy” per se, as many apprehensive Saints from the McConkie/Fielding/Kimball “era” have let themselves be led to believe. The problem is bad philosophy, and Green’s edition to the BTI series is rife with it.