Review of Peter J. Williams, The Surprising Genius of Jesus: What the Gospels Reveal About the Greatest Teacher (Wheaton, IL: Crossway, 2023). 113 pages, $14.59 (paperback).

Abstract: Peter Williams, an independent biblical scholar, has written an analysis of the parable of the prodigal son in a fascinating attempt to demonstrate two truths. The first is that one of the most overlooked attributes of the Savior is his brilliant and analytical mind. In the process, Williams reveals many intricacies hidden in the parable. He also reminds readers of the role of the Old Testament in the understanding and appreciation of the teachings of Jesus. These contributions, by themselves, demonstrate the value of the book. The second truth is that Jesus, himself, and not the gospel writers or the Apostle Paul, was the source of his teachings. However, an even greater value (and a third truth, if you will) may be a powerful demonstration of the process of looking deeply at scripture to uncover and “see” easily missed insights.

Every so often, one stumbles upon a truly enjoyable tidbit of new information, and it is only human nature to wish to share it. Such is the case with Peter Williams’s new book, The Surprising Genius of Jesus.¹ Short though it may be, it is long in learning.

Williams is the CEO of Tyndale House, an independent biblical research library located in Cambridge, England. He also serves [Page 404]as a member of the English Standard Version (ESV) Translation Oversight Committee as well as the chair of the International Greek New Testament Project. As such, he is in an excellent position to guide readers, including members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, through various aspects of the New Testament.

The thesis of his delightful little book is best described in Williams’s own words:

Many believers would describe Christ as kind, loving, strong, or powerful. Few would first think of the word genius. When studied in detail, however, Jesus’s teachings and interactions with others reveal a combination of profound wisdom, verbal dexterity, simplicity, and creativity. (back cover)

He adds,

Probably about two billion Christians would claim to follow his teachings, which is more than follow the teachings of any other person in history. But most of the Christians I mix with would be more likely to see Jesus’s intelligence as a necessary corollary of his divine nature than to point to specific things he said as examples of remarkable intellect. (pp. 1–2)

To prove his point, and to demonstrate that the teachings of the Savior really come from Jesus and not from the Gospel writers or from the Apostle Paul, as some have contended,² Williams meticulously dissects Christ’s parable of the prodigal son as found in Luke 15:11–24.

The Amazing Intellect of Jesus

I fully acknowledge that different people will draw different lessons from any given book. For some, the main takeaway will be Williams’s thesis that Christians need to recognize and appreciate more fully the genius of Jesus. Williams demonstrates that genius in a most convincing and enlightening manner. I see this as the first contribution of this book. So, for those happy to add intellect to Christ’s usual repertoire of attributes, this 113-page book is well worth the enjoyable and rewarding read.

However, this lesson, as valuable as it may be, is not the main [Page 405]contribution of the book, at least for me. The genius of Jesus is something that most members of the Church already assume, even if that is not always recognized or discussed as one of his attributes. One quick example of a Latter-day Saint author who does recognize that attribute is Tad Callister. In his widely read book The Infinite Atonement, he writes: “No mortal can cry out, ‘He does not understand my plight, for my trials are unique.’ . . . The Savior knows, understands, and feels every human condition” (emphasis added).³ Although not writing about the Savior’s genius, per se, I and others have also previously written about his omniscience.⁴

As long as Williams is not using the idea that Christ possessed a great intellect as a way of robbing him of his divinity, and he is certainly not doing that, I welcome any emphasis on Christ’s razor-keen mind. His genius was vastly superior to any other thinker. Williams describes Jesus’s intellect as greater than, “Aristotle (384–322 BC), Leonardo da Vinci (1452–1519), Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart (1756–1791), and Albert Einstein (1879–1955),” but many more could be cited (p. 1). I would say that Christ’s intellect was superior to all of them combined. Thus, while I applaud the recognition of his genius, the fact that he has unlimited intellectual capacity is already well established in scripture. Isaiah poetically quotes the Lord as telling us, “My thoughts are not your thoughts . . . for as the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my . . . thoughts than your thoughts” (Isaiah 55:8–9). Restoration scripture concurs but goes even further. King Benjamin admonishes us to “believe that man doth not comprehend all the things which the Lord can comprehend” (Mosiah 4:9). Abraham is told, “These two facts do exist, that there are two spirits, one being more intelligent than the other; there shall be another more intelligent than they; I am the Lord thy God, I am more intelligent than they all.” (Abraham 3:19).

The Close Connection with the Old Testament

A second set of readers may relish the fascinating associations that Williams uncovers between elements of the parable of the prodigal son in the New Testament and various Old Testament stories. [Page 406]These intertextual linkages may resonate with many members who, like me, came to appreciate more fully the incredible value of the Old Testament when the Church’s Come, Follow Me curriculum focused on that holy scripture in 2022. After Williams demonstrates numerous linkages, he concludes with the statement, “We have also seen that Jesus knew and loved the Old Testament, which is a reminder to any who claim to follow him that they need to take the Old Testament seriously” (p. 109). I see this as the second contribution of this book.

The parable of the prodigal son and its connection to the Old Testament was something that I believed I already understood. Peter Williams convinced me that I did not. Throughout Williams’s book, I encountered wave after wave of insights that were entirely new to me. It left me thinking, “Why couldn’t I see any of this?” However, other scholars of the Church have also provided amazing commentaries on this parable. For example, Matthew Linford provides his own masterful discussion of this parable, and I also recommend his analysis to interested readers.⁵ Moss and Moss compare the prodigal Son with Jean Valjean of Les Misérables,⁶ and Elder Jensen highlights how the parable taught of the characteristics of God.⁷ John W. Welch and Jeannie S. Welch point out that, “like so many of the parables, this text so rich in meanings can and must be read in many ways.”⁸ Robert L. Millet’s excellent book Lost and Found: Reflections on the Prodigal Son provides an in-depth discussion of this parable.⁹ Still, there remains more that is left to learn from the story, and Williams’s book is a valuable addition to a complete understanding of Christ’s message in that parable.

[Page 407]Learning to Deeply Look and Spiritually See

For me, though, the overarching value in The Surprising Genius of Jesus lies elsewhere. While I greatly appreciated the insightful details I learned, I was entranced by Williams’s example of how to look. Insights regarding aspects of the parable of the prodigal son, as fascinating as they may be, will soon be lost; but tools of how to look deeply and what to look for are tools that, once learned, will never be lost. I see this as the third and, to me, most important contribution of this little book. As Albert Einstein once noted, the value of education is not the acquisition of information as much as the training of how to look. In his words:

It is not so very important for a person to learn facts. For that he does not really need a college. He can learn them from books. The value of an education in a liberal arts college is not the learning of many facts but the training of the mind to think something that cannot be learned from textbooks.¹⁰

By looking deeply, I obviously do not mean a casual glance or even a reading through on some daily obligatory schedule. I mean what is variously called a “deep dive,” or an “unpacking,” or what Newell Wright calls “reading intentionally”¹¹ for understanding and insight. Arthur Conan Doyle once had the fictitious Sherlock Holmes compare his process of careful deduction with Dr. Watson’s failure of looking without seeing: “I observe . . . I see it, I deduce it. . . . You have not observed. And yet you have seen. . . . I have both seen and observed.”¹²

Let me elaborate with an example of learning to look deeply. This example comes from an entirely different field of endeavor. Realistic portrait painting is one of the most difficult art forms that one can master. That is not to devalue in any way landscape art, abstract art, or any other form of art. It’s just that rendering one tree taller or shorter than another makes little to no difference in a landscape painting of a forest scene. However, a human’s lip that arches too high, even microscopically, can change a smile to a sneer. An eyebrow that is raised even a hair or two too high can change sultriness to suspicion. An iris that [Page 408]extends even a millimeter too far to the side of an eye can distort a likeness. Such miniscule details can even render a face unrecognizable. Artists who shift from landscapes to portraiture seldom need to be taught how to paint; they almost always need to be taught how to look. It is only by looking minutely and critically that an artist can end up with a portrait that truly captures the person being painted. That is what Williams’s book means to me. It exemplifies his tremendous skill of looking deeply, critically, and minutely in order see that which is not apparent to others.

Running as an example of deep looking

Allow me to share one example from The Surprising Genius of Jesus. Most readers are aware that the prodigal son squandered his inheritance, and then repented and returned home. “But when he was yet a great way off, his father saw him, and had compassion, and ran, and fell on his neck, and kissed him” (Luke 15:20). Many commentators have focused on the “great way off” detail. It is a beautiful metaphor showing that a loving Heavenly Father is only looking for the beginning of repentance to embrace us, too. Gerald Lund, for example, notes, “It was not required that the son come all the way back. The father was watching and went out to meet him while he was yet a long way off.”¹³ That is a most encouraging insight, and Williams talks about that, too.

However, who notices the running part? Peter Williams does. He notes that “Abraham is the first person in the Bible recorded as running” (p. 56). Additionally,

Besides the father in Luke 15, Abraham is the Bible’s only other aged figure who runs: “He lifted up his eyes and looked, and behold, three men were standing in front of him. When he saw them, he ran from the tent door to meet them and bowed himself to the earth” (Gen 18:2 ESV): “And Abraham ran to the herd and took a calf, tender and good” (18:7 ESV). Abraham’s running is particularly noteworthy because he seems to have been ninety-nine years old at the time (17:24). (p. 56)

Is “running” a significant element in the parable? Does the Lord run to us? Of course, he does. Christ took on mortality “that he may [Page 409]know according to the flesh how to succor his people according to their infirmities” (Alma 7:12). The word succor comes from the Latin “sub ‘up to’ . . . + currere ‘to run.’”¹⁴ The Greek word boethéo, translated as succor in Hebrews 2:18 (Strongs G997), conveys “run to the cry of.”¹⁵ Jesus Christ’s “running” to us to “lift up” (i.e., redeem us) was God’s greatest gift to his children and illustrates his grace and condescension.¹⁶ Elder Holland writes, “I testify that Christ will run to us, and is running even now, if we will but receive the extended arm of His mercy.”¹⁷ Even though this element of “running to help” is stressed in lessons and sermons that focus on Alma 7, few mention the “running” detail in discussions of the parable of the prodigal son.

In addition to Christ running to us, we are to run to him—as fast as we can—although “all these things are done in wisdom and order; for it is not requisite that a man should run faster than he has strength” (Mosiah 4:27). Paul encourages us: “let us run with patience the race that is set before us” (Hebrews 12:1). Running is symbolic of the earnest and enthusiastic two-way commitment of the Abrahamic Covenant: we choose him to be our God and he chooses us to be his people. Thus, running is an example of a word that we may see—but not see in a deep sense. Like poor Dr. Watson, we “see, but [we] do not observe.”¹⁸ The astounding attention to detail that Peter Williams demonstrates invites readers to also utilize the tool of deeply looking at each and every word, which tool can then be applied to many and varied situations.

Seeing line upon line

I have always been intrigued by the Old Testament story of the servant of Elisha who looked with fear at the overwhelming enemies surrounding the paltry forces of the Israelites. He looked, but he could not [Page 410]truly see. “Alas, my master! how shall we do?” he cried. “And [Elisha] prayed, and said, Lord, I pray thee open his eyes, that he may see. And the Lord opened the eyes of the young man; and he saw: and, behold, the mountain was full of horses and chariots of fire round about Elisha” (2 Kings 6:15, 17). How I long to see more deeply as did Elisha’s servant. Most of us likely long for the same. For most of us, though, learning to see in a spiritual manner is a process that can be frustratingly slow. As Latter-day Saint scholar Newell Wright notes, “Learning how to look is an acquired skill, developed over a lifetime.”¹⁹

For behold, thus saith the Lord God: I will give unto the children of men line upon line, precept upon precept, here a little and there a little; and blessed are those who hearken unto my precepts, and lend an ear unto my counsel, for they shall learn wisdom; for unto him that receiveth I will give more. (2 Nephi 28:30)

How merciful, after all, that it actually is a slow process, because we immediately become accountable for what we see. So, in the end, it is a blessing that we only learn to see more deeply line upon line and precept upon precept. Looking must be a spiritual aspiration on our part; seeing is a spiritual gift on God’s part.

Nephi’s pattern of “Look! . . . And I looked”

Nephi practiced the aspiration and was rewarded with the gift. He initially “desire[d] to behold the things which [his] father saw” (1 Nephi 11:3). Subsequently, he was guided through various stages of vision. It is perhaps revealing that most of the vision elements that Nephi saw were prefaced by the divine command, “Look!” His immediate response was, “And I looked.” This sequence of “Look! . . . And I looked” occurred not once, not twice, but an astonishing thirteen times. And that sequence was supplemented by seven other statements that Nephi “looked” without being commanded to do so. In all, he “looked” twenty-one times in 1 Nephi 11 through 14. Yet, even looking was not enough. He still had to seek understanding. “And [the Spirit] said unto me: What desirest thou? And I said unto him: To know the interpretation thereof” (1 Nephi 11:10–11).

Is there any question that we should also “Look!” and then seek interpretation and understanding through the Spirit?

The Interpreter journal is a place that offers me glasses to look, [Page 411]see, and understand. I am privileged to be an executive editor, and I routinely process articles that see what I do not, at first, see. Working with some of the great scholars of the Church, I sometimes feel like one of the men who accompanied Paul on the road to Damascus. “And the men which journeyed with him stood speechless, hearing a voice, but seeing no man” (Acts 9:7). I had looked; but I had not seen. Happily, though, through the review process, the editors, reviewers, and authors all work together to learn to see even more deeply. The result inevitably helps the readers see more deeply as well.

I must remind the reader of this review that the process of looking deeply is only a secondary goal of The Surprising Genius of Jesus. Consequently, Williams does not provide step-by-step instructions for how to look. There is only his own demonstration of that ability. However, for those who are interested, Newell Wright offers several helpful hints in his article “Reading the Scriptures More Intentionally.”²⁰ And Jensen presents “certain guidelines and . . . helpful rules” in interpreting parables.²¹

The theme of the “two sons”

Let me end this review by sharing one final example of Peter Williams showing us that, as with the servant of Elisha, there is more—much more—to see in the parable of the prodigal son—if we can only look deeply. He carefully considers stories of “two sons” in conflict. He discusses Cain and Abel, Jacob and Esau, Joseph and Judah,²² Moses and Pharoah, and of course the prodigal son and his older jealous brother.

As an interesting aside, Williams also touches very briefly on the parable of another two sons. This latter parable was offered in response to a trick question hurled at Jesus by the chief priests and the elders of the people. The priests had come to Jesus and demanded to know “by what authority doest thou these things? and who gave thee this authority?” Surprisingly, Christ’s response is a refusal to answer directly: “Neither tell I you by what authority I do these things.”

Ahh, he does not tell them; he shows them—if they only had eyes to see. Jesus recounts a parable consisting of less than sixty words (Matthew 21:28–32). Two sons are asked by their father to work in the [Page 412]vineyard. The first son says, “I will not,” but later goes anyway. The second son says, “I go, sir: and went not.” Jesus asks, “Whether of them twain did the will of his father?” and the chief priests rightly answer, “The first.” But why is this parable even here? And what does it reveal about authority? Without Restoration eyes to see, this parable may seem misplaced, even irrelevant, in a context of revealing Christ’s authority and who sent him. It has been interpreted by some commentators as referring to Israel versus the gentiles, but, again, that has little to do with explaining Christ’s authority.

With the benefit of Restoration doctrine, which teaches of a premortal council, John Welch is able to see more—much more. He argues very convincingly that the two sons are Jehovah and Lucifer.²³ Lucifer will go into his Father’s vineyard, yes, but only if he can have all the glory. When he is denied that, he does not go. The other son, however, the one who appears to say, “I will not,” is not actually refusing. Rather, he is saying, “I will it not,” meaning, “I do not will it or desire it.” (Who would?) Still, he goes—in fact, he runs—to succor his people “that he may loose the bands of death . . . [and] take upon him their infirmities” (Alma 7:12). By so doing, he saves mankind and completes his Father’s work and glory (Moses 1:39). What is his authority? He is God the Son. Who sends him? Elohim and the divine council, supported by all of us. Of course, the chief priests see none of this.

Returning to the final example of the theme of the “two sons,” Williams sees clearly that the older brother of the prodigal son is also lost spiritually. Williams’s insight is, “Although we have often thought of only the younger son as lost . . . the question is left open about whether the other one will be found too” (p. 9).²⁴ Elder Jeffrey R. Holland has taught that the older son “has, as yet, been unable to break out of the prison of himself.”²⁵ Matthew Linford words the condition of the older brother as “his salvation is pending.”²⁶

[Page 413]Two sons in the Book of Mormon

In several of the “two sons” stories, the younger son is more righteous than the older and even comes to rule over the older. While Williams obviously does not consider stories from the Book of Mormon, a Latter-day Saint’s thoughts, like mine, might immediately turn to two other sons: the first-born son (Laman) and his much younger brother (Nephi).²⁷ It is beyond the scope of this review to fully trace a comparison between the parable of the prodigal son and the story of Laman and Nephi, but there are similar aspects that readily come to mind.²⁸ I hesitate to scratch the surface of this idea, because it may invite the reader to push back on what is only the sketchiest of musing, but it might serve as an example of applying the deep looking that Williams demonstrates. Here are but a few of the elements in the two stories that students of the Book of Mormon might look at if they undertook such a comparison:

• An emphasis on distance and far-off countries and lands.
• The rejection of what the fathers offer.
• An emphasis on the loss of wealth/inheritance through squandering or theft.
• Hunger as a driving force leading to repentance.
• Complaints of years of work and servitude.
• The deep concern of two fathers who watch for wayward sons in the distance.
• The jealousy of the perceived favoritism of the youngest.
• Music and dancing and “be merry” or “make merry.”
• A possible similarity of some longer phrases. For example, consider Laman’s lament, “Behold, these many years we have suffered in the wilderness, which time we might have enjoyed our possessions . . . yea, and we might have been happy” (1 Nephi 17:21). Now consider the prodigal’s older brother: “Look [ESV], these many years do I serve thee . . . yet thou never gavest me a kid, that I might make merry” (Luke 15:29).

[Page 414]This sketchy comparison might be a stretch that only leads to a dead end. The point is that Williams’s book is yet another way to demonstrate, and therefore teach, the tool of deeper looking. Readers can then apply that refined skill to the story of Laman and Nephi (or other stories) on their own journey of exploration for greater scriptural sight and insight.

Summary and Conclusions

It is indeed rare and most welcome that there are several reasons for enjoying this delightful short book, The Surprising Genius of Jesus. It illustrates the immense value and rewarding role of the Old Testament in the devotional life of Latter-day Saints. It provides insight after insight on several parables, but most notably the parable of the prodigal son, all connected closely with the Old Testament. Finally, it demonstrates the value and benefit of a detailed examination of even the tiniest of phrases in scripture. Truly, this little book is well worth a deep look.