Episode 10: The Allegory of the Olive Tree (Jacob 5)

Olive trees

This is the mother of all chapters in the Book of Mormon.  A lot of people have a hard time reading through Jacob 5, but a speedy, cursory pass-through will miss a lot of the beautiful symbolism.  I'm going to do something different with this post, though.  I'm going to post other people's stuff more than my own.  I think with something like the Allegory of the Olive Tree, it helps to have visual aids, and there are a decent number of them already out there, so...why reinvent the wheel?

Here's a video that CES produced for seminary students back in the early '90s.  If you get past the hair and the clothes, you'll be able to get a fantastic understanding of the allegory:

http://www.lds.org/media-library/video/book-of-mormon?lang=eng&id=2012-08-1680-the-olive-tree#2012-08-1680-the-olive-tree


Here's a drawing of the process of grafting in a new branch:

This picture makes more sense after you've watched the video linked above.

Here is a diagram I found of the symbols and their historical counterparts:

And here's another diagram.  This one is from the Book of Mormon Student Manual:

These pictures are probably still not big enough to be read on this blog; I would apologize for that except, maybe it's good that the reader be forced to search out these things on his/her own.  Like I mentioned a couple posts ago, I've learned a lot from making my own visual aids.

That being said, here are just a few thoughts of my own:

The question that the lord of the vineyard asks throughout the allegory is, "What more could I have done for my vineyard?"  Obviously the prophet Jacob took this [rhetorical] question to heart, for he says of himself and his brother Joseph:

"And we did magnify our office unto the Lord, taking upon us the responsibility, answering the sins of the people upon our own heads if we did not teach them the word of God with all diligence; wherefore, by laboring with our might their blood might not come upon our garments, and we would not be found spotless at the last day" (Jac. 1:19)

Jacob mentions that he "labored diligently" several other times in his account.  When he asked himself, "What more could I have done?", he didn't want the answer to be: "A lot."

This reminds me of one of my favorite talks given in General Conference.  Henry B. Eyring gave a talk in the Priesthood Session of the April 2010 General Conference entitled, Act In All Diligence.  Near the opening of his talk, he quotes Brigham Young, who said of the priesthood:

"An individual who holds a share in the Priesthood, and continues faithful to his calling, who delights himself continually in doing the things God requires at his hands, and continues through life in the performance of every duty will secure to himself not only the privilege of receiving, but the knowledge [of] how to receive the things of God, that he may know the mind of God continually" (emphasis added).

One of the examples that Pres. Eyring gave to illustrate this sort of diligence was of an older man who had served in his ward as a bishop--twice.  This brother's "increasing physical limitations made any priesthood service very difficult."  But then Pres. Eyring points out something very important about this man's service:

"Yet he had a plan to act in diligence.  He sat every Sunday he could get to church near the row nearest the door where most of the people would enter for the sacrament meeting.  He got there early to be sure a seat was vacant.  Each person arriving could see his look of love and welcome, just as they did when he sat on the stand as their bishop.  His influence warmed and lifted us because we knew something of the price he paid to serve.  His task as a bishop was finished; his priesthood service did not end."

This quote immediately brought someone to mind in my own ward who is very similar.  This brother in my ward is also in his "golden years," has served as bishop in the past (along with countless other time-consuming callings), and still sits near the entrance to our chapel every Sunday in order to greet everyone as they enter.  He always has a smile on his face; he always has kind words to share.  He is also always ready to step in and serve, even when not asked.  An example of this has to do with the little number-cards at the front of the chapel for the hymns that will be sung during the service.  One of my callings is that of Ward Music Director, which means I pick the music for sacrament meeting, and it's also technically my job to slide those little cards into the slots at the front of the chapel each week.  However, I'm also the Ward Choir Director and Choir Pianist (I lead like a Jazz director, throwing ambiguous hand signals from where I sit at the piano; our choir still somehow understands me--they rock).  We have choir rehearsal in the morning before church starts, which means I'm usually rushing into the chapel just in time for choir practice, kids in tow, with nothing but choir stuff on my mind; when first called, I tended to forget about posting the hymn numbers for sacrament meeting.  But this good brother noticed my unspoken need for help and, on his own, began posting the hymn numbers for sacrament meeting each week.  He still does it to this day: he gets a hold of the program, checks out the hymn numbers, and posts them up front.  It's not a big thing--sliding little number-cards into slots at the front of the chapel--but it's been a great help to me every week.  More than that, it's taught me something about being aware of the needs around oneself.  This brother knew of my "plethora" of callings, recognized that it's not always easy to get to church early when you have small children, and he lent a hand.  What a huge lesson learned from such a small thing!

When you add to this the fact that just about every other time I attend the temple I also see him serving there in one capacity or another, you have for yourself a living lesson of diligence--of someone who is constantly asking himself: "What more [can] I do for [the Lord's] vineyard?"

I've tried asking myself that question with more frequency; I can do better, though.  We can always do better.  I'm just thankful that the Lord has blessed me with examples in my life of what that sort of diligence looks and acts like.  This is no abstract idea for me: it's a real, sought-after way of life.