The allegory ends with the destruction of the vineyard after evil again creeps into the vineyard. Clearly, this is a reference to the end of the Millennium when Satan will be loosed briefly and when the earth will end in fire. Does this eschatological burning make sense in the allegory? Why would the Lord, who has resisted destroying the vineyard to this point, suddenly decide to burn the vineyard after it has finally become successful?
The answer lies in understanding the allegory’s botanical basis. First, while the efforts of the Lord clearly take time, this time is part of a season. “Then cometh the season and the end.” Although historical time requires thousands of years, allegorical time is comprised in a single “season.” This allegory demonstrates the efforts of the Lord of the vineyard to produce valuable fruit for the “season.”
At the end of a season, it was part of some ancient practices to burn the stubble from a harvested field, then plant in a newly cultivated area. Such an approach would not be used for anything as long-lived as an olive tree, but the botanical image of fire is one of renewal as much as of destruction. It is through the burning of the fields that nutrients are returned to the soil. Therefore, this burning at the last days is not pictured as devastation, but as transformation. It is a renewal of life rather than a cessation of life.
Literature: Of course the allegory of the olive tree comes to us in written form, and was certainly in written form when Jacob copied it from the brass plates. The structure of the allegory, however, suggests an oral tale. In such forms of literature, structure and, particularly, structured repetition are devices that allow the teller retain the basic structure and improvise certain elements to adapt them to the needs of the audience.
Well-known examples of oral tales are Chicken Little, the Gingerbread Man, and the Little Red Hen. Each tale has a set structure, including set phrases that are repeated at key points. The story is developed by adding episodes with essentially the same outcome, repeating the tale’s basic structure. Of course, the tale ends with a variation on the theme, usually a reversal of the set pieces. The juxtaposition of the unexpected after the establishment of the expected is part of the satisfaction of the ending.
This allegory’s basic structure consists of four easily remembered pieces. First is a single tree, from root to branch. Second, branches are removed and planted in separate locations. Third, wild branches are grafted to the main tree. Fourth, the branches growing far away are regrafted to the original tree. Thus, the narrator need hold only four main elements in his head (presumably most public storytellers in ancient Israel were male, given male dominance in their society).
Within each of these four scenes, the Lord and servant engage in conversation about the behavior of the tree. This dialogue becomes the dynamic that advances the story through discussion, plan, and implementation. In each of the four scenes, the information is virtually identical. Only the context of the plan or implementation phase differs. The storyteller therefore need only remember the crucial conflict of the segment and could expand the tale dramatically by working the language or implementing pieces in various ways.
Zenos may have originated this parable or he may have been only the recorder. If Zenos is the recorder of an oral tale, possibly this same oral tale, drifting through the years as it was told around campfires or in market places also underlies Paul’s allegory using the same themes, explaining how Paul, who knew nothing of farming, would still know an allegory that was botanically correct in its outline. The possibility of finding additional narratives of this allegory in Mediterranean cultures, although none have yet been discovered, may shed more light on this hypothesis.
Narrative: As noted in verse 1, Jacob cites Zenos’s allegory to answer a specific question: “And now, my beloved, how is it possible that these, after having rejected the sure foundation, can ever build upon it, that it may become the head of their corner?” (Jacob 4:17).
Hoskisson provides a personalized and modern interpretation of why Jacob used Zenos’s allegory:
I cannot complete this discussion of the allegory of the olive tree without returning to the beginning, the reason Jacob gave the allegory: How can we be reconciled to God through Jesus Christ? If I were writing in good Hebrew style I would expect the reader at this point to know, from the allegory itself and the above discussion, how reconciliation takes place. But I am not, and I would be untrue to my own heritage if I did not to the best of my ability clearly explain how we can be reconciled to God through Jesus Christ. As the allegory suggests, the process is deceptively simple and easy: Remain attached long enough to our roots, the scriptural heritage revealed by the God of Israel, that the healing influence of divine direction, of a “knowledge of the true Messiah,” our Lord and Redeemer (1 Ne. 10:14), can change us from a twig bearing bitter fruit to a natural twig bearing good fruit. It does not matter whether our scriptural heritage is planted in a good spot on the earth or a bad one, we can bear fruit under the loving and wise care of the Lord of the vineyard.
For the question Hoskisson answers, one cannot improve on his words. However, he answers a different question than the one Jacob actually posed. Hoskisson discusses a personal reconciliation: “How can we be reconciled to God through Jesus Christ?” Though an important question and answer and one which is reinforced by the themes of the allegory, it does not discuss Jacob’s question. Jacob is using the allegory to show how a rejected Messiah can become the “head of their corner.” Jacob had been discussing the Jews as a stiffnecked people who have (and will) reject the words of the prophets, and their Messiah (Jacob 4:14).
The legitimate question arises about how the rejected Messiah will become the Triumphant Messiah, for there are now two roles discussed. The Triumphant Messiah, as described in Isaiah, will come in power and dominion. Jacob has preached of Jesus as the Messiah, but he (like Nephi before him) describes a Messiah engaged in a mortal ministry in a human context who is rejected by his people. This contrast between the Jerusalem Messiah and the eschatological Messiah must have been tremendous to an audience who would have understood and expected the Triumphant Messiah.
Jacob does not explain this problem to a modern audience because he is speaking to an ancient one. To that ancient audience, the question is how to reconcile an Atoning Messiah in Jerusalem who appears to be a failure in that his own people reject and crucify him with the triumphant King who is expected at the end of time?
Jacob’s answer is the scriptural allegory, through which he traces future events. He does not answer the question of the Messiah directly, for the allegory discusses Israel, not the Messiah. Nevertheless, the theme is that of the Lord’s temporal failure but ultimate triumph. Jacob’s answer is to show that Yahweh has plans and powers that extend across time. Although Israel may stray, Yahweh will care for Israel until the final success of the covenant.
Jacob’s answer does not focus on how the Messiah could change, but rather on how the people could change so that they who once rejected their Messiah might be ready for his triumphal entry at the end of time. In this way, Jacob’s message is ultimately comforting, for it shows Yahweh’s great grace in allowing repentance and his great patience toward human beings who need repentance.
Text: This is the end of a chapter in the 1830 edition.