A Review through the Lens of Torat Edom
Originally published in 2003 as part of the New Studies in Biblical Theology series (edited by D.A. Carson), Stephen G. Dempster’s Dominion and Dynasty has quietly become a foundational text in evangelical biblical theology. It has stood the test of time—not simply as a thematic overview, but as a structurally sound attempt to let the Tanakh speak in its own canonical voice. Its inclusion in platforms like Logos Bible Software and its continued academic citation confirm its place as more than a passing commentary. It is a sustained effort to read the Hebrew Bible as a coherent narrative—one that many pastors, teachers, and theologians now take for granted.
And yet, over two decades later, the task is not finished. If anything, a book like this shows just how far we’ve come—and how far we still need to go. The recovery of the biblical story is not merely literary or theological; it is covenantal and eschatological.
Re-reading Dominion and Dynasty through the lens of a reading from Judaism that helps us ask deeper questions: Who carries the testimony? What of the excluded lineages—Dan, Edom, the ger? What lies beyond dominion and dynasty?
This is more than literary elegance; it is a theological act. Dempster is pushing back against atomized Bible reading and calling the Church to reckon with the drama of Scripture. And yet, while he restores much that has been lost, he stops short of seeing the full picture—what Torat Edom calls the testimony of the remnant, the edim or congregation, who carry the oracles beyond the collapse of kingdom and temple.
Narrative Strengths: Seed, Land, and Story
Dempster’s central claim is that the Hebrew Bible is a unified story, anchored in two interwoven threads:
His attention to literary seams and genealogical structures reveals a beautiful coherence in the text—especially his insights into the ending of Chronicles as a final “open door” for return and restoration. He also resists the temptation to systematize, choosing instead to trace the storyline as it flows through narrative and poetry, judgment and hope.
Canonical Fidelity: Respecting the Tanakh’s Order
Perhaps Dempster’s most important contribution is his insistence on reading the Hebrew Bible in its own order. Unlike the Christian Old Testament, which ends with the prophetic books (e.g., Malachi), the Jewish canon ends with Chronicles, a theological retelling of Israel’s history that ends with a decree for return. That ending matters. It shapes how we view God’s story—whether it’s about winding down or being prepared for something new.
Toral Edom argues that these ruptures are not marginal—they are central. They are the test cases of God’s covenantal justice. Dempster treats them as footnotes to the main narrative. That’s the Reformed instinct still speaking—quietly, but clearly.
Supersessionism by Silence?
To his credit, Dempster never explicitly says that the Church replaces Israel. But by focusing on literary fulfillment rather than ongoing testimony, he risks absorbing Israel’s story into a Christological abstraction. The oracles are treated as fulfilled rather than guarded, and the witnesses who preserved them in exile are barely mentioned.
Torat Edom takes a different approach and is a paradigm shift for our theology. It insists that the story is not about fulfillment replacing Israel, but about Edomite captivity, the distortion of covenant through empire and abstraction. Dempster does not critique Christendom, Rome, or theological imperialism. His vision is beautiful—but it lacks blood. It lacks exile. It lacks the remnant’s voice.
Conclusion: A Step Toward the Witnesses, but Not with Them
Stephen Dempster’s Dominion and Dynasty is a bold and noble work. It clears the clutter of systematics to let the Bible breathe again. For that, it deserves high praise. It helps modern readers rediscover the shape of the story—but not yet its full weight.
For those reading with Torat Edom in mind, Dempster is a necessary guide, but not a final voice. He shows us the map, but the oracles still buried in exile speak a deeper truth. Their witness is not found in dominion or dynasty, but in tears, tables, and the long road of return.
This review is not a dismissal of Dempster’s work, but a response to it—a respectful engagement that honors the scaffolding he provided while pressing deeper into the heart of the remnant: the edim (עדים), the witnesses. While related to edah (עדה), the term for a covenantal assembly or community, edim refers specifically to the individuals who bear testimony—those entrusted with the oracles. It is this witness-bearing community, and the prophetic testimony they continue to carry, that still waits to be fully recognized and heard.
A Noble Attempt to Read the Bible as a Story
Dominion and Dynasty is a rare kind of biblical theology: one that honors the Jewish shape of Scripture. By arranging the narrative according to the Tanakh order (Torah, Prophets, Writings), Dempster refuses to treat the Hebrew Bible as a theological appetizer for the New Testament. Instead, he invites us to read it as a story in its own right—structured around seed and land, two central themes of covenantal identity.
Dominion and Dynasty is a rare kind of biblical theology: one that honors the Jewish shape of Scripture. By arranging the narrative according to the Tanakh order (Torah, Prophets, Writings), Dempster refuses to treat the Hebrew Bible as a theological appetizer for the New Testament. Instead, he invites us to read it as a story in its own right—structured around seed and land, two central themes of covenantal identity.
This is more than literary elegance; it is a theological act. Dempster is pushing back against atomized Bible reading and calling the Church to reckon with the drama of Scripture. And yet, while he restores much that has been lost, he stops short of seeing the full picture—what Torat Edom calls the testimony of the remnant, the edim or congregation, who carry the oracles beyond the collapse of kingdom and temple.
What is Torat Edom?
Torat Edom—literally “the Teaching of Edom”—is a term I use to describe a theological pattern that emerges when covenantal truth is distorted, inheritance is reversed, and spiritual power is severed from its source. In Scripture, Edom often represents the estranged brother, the rival kingdom, the one who knows the covenant but twists it for control, merit, or empire. Torat Edom is not merely about Esau—it is about what happens when sacred teaching becomes abstract, institutionalized, or cut off from its Jewish root. It is the counterfeit covenant that mimics the structure of Torah but lacks the fire of revelation. Recognizing Torat Edom is not about condemnation—it’s about recovering what has been lost: the living voice of God, the witness-bearing remnant, and the sanctifying power of the Spirit that marks true inclusion into the covenant.
Torat Edom—literally “the Teaching of Edom”—is a term I use to describe a theological pattern that emerges when covenantal truth is distorted, inheritance is reversed, and spiritual power is severed from its source. In Scripture, Edom often represents the estranged brother, the rival kingdom, the one who knows the covenant but twists it for control, merit, or empire. Torat Edom is not merely about Esau—it is about what happens when sacred teaching becomes abstract, institutionalized, or cut off from its Jewish root. It is the counterfeit covenant that mimics the structure of Torah but lacks the fire of revelation. Recognizing Torat Edom is not about condemnation—it’s about recovering what has been lost: the living voice of God, the witness-bearing remnant, and the sanctifying power of the Spirit that marks true inclusion into the covenant.
Dempster’s central claim is that the Hebrew Bible is a unified story, anchored in two interwoven threads:
- Seed (zera) — the line of promise stretching from Adam to Abraham, through David, and into the exilic longings of Israel.
- Land (eretz) — the divine gift that shapes covenantal responsibility, identity, and exile.
His attention to literary seams and genealogical structures reveals a beautiful coherence in the text—especially his insights into the ending of Chronicles as a final “open door” for return and restoration. He also resists the temptation to systematize, choosing instead to trace the storyline as it flows through narrative and poetry, judgment and hope.
Canonical Fidelity: Respecting the Tanakh’s Order
Perhaps Dempster’s most important contribution is his insistence on reading the Hebrew Bible in its own order. Unlike the Christian Old Testament, which ends with the prophetic books (e.g., Malachi), the Jewish canon ends with Chronicles, a theological retelling of Israel’s history that ends with a decree for return. That ending matters. It shapes how we view God’s story—whether it’s about winding down or being prepared for something new.
Torat Edom takes this further by asking: who returns? Who is still holding the oracles when the temple is destroyed, when the seed appears to fail, when the land is desecrated? Dempster gestures toward these questions but does not walk the path. His canon theology sets the stage but does not spotlight the true witnesses in exile—those who carry Torah through suffering, silence, and marginalization.
Where it Falls Short
This is where Torat Edom parts ways. Dempster’s focus on dominion and dynasty, while valuable, leaves little room for those who are disinherited but not forgotten. What about Dan and Edom, whose roles in the biblical story become apocalyptic ciphers for distorted power? What about Hagar and Ruth, outsiders whose stories threaten to unravel the clean lines of “seed”?
Where it Falls Short
This is where Torat Edom parts ways. Dempster’s focus on dominion and dynasty, while valuable, leaves little room for those who are disinherited but not forgotten. What about Dan and Edom, whose roles in the biblical story become apocalyptic ciphers for distorted power? What about Hagar and Ruth, outsiders whose stories threaten to unravel the clean lines of “seed”?
Toral Edom argues that these ruptures are not marginal—they are central. They are the test cases of God’s covenantal justice. Dempster treats them as footnotes to the main narrative. That’s the Reformed instinct still speaking—quietly, but clearly.
Supersessionism by Silence?
To his credit, Dempster never explicitly says that the Church replaces Israel. But by focusing on literary fulfillment rather than ongoing testimony, he risks absorbing Israel’s story into a Christological abstraction. The oracles are treated as fulfilled rather than guarded, and the witnesses who preserved them in exile are barely mentioned.
Torat Edom takes a different approach and is a paradigm shift for our theology. It insists that the story is not about fulfillment replacing Israel, but about Edomite captivity, the distortion of covenant through empire and abstraction. Dempster does not critique Christendom, Rome, or theological imperialism. His vision is beautiful—but it lacks blood. It lacks exile. It lacks the remnant’s voice.
Conclusion: A Step Toward the Witnesses, but Not with Them
Stephen Dempster’s Dominion and Dynasty is a bold and noble work. It clears the clutter of systematics to let the Bible breathe again. For that, it deserves high praise. It helps modern readers rediscover the shape of the story—but not yet its full weight.
For those reading with Torat Edom in mind, Dempster is a necessary guide, but not a final voice. He shows us the map, but the oracles still buried in exile speak a deeper truth. Their witness is not found in dominion or dynasty, but in tears, tables, and the long road of return.
You can purchase the book from the following retailers
- Amazon: Available in paperback and Kindle editions. View on Amazon
- InterVarsity Press: The publisher’s website offers the book in paperback. View on IVP
- Logos Bible Software: For a digital edition compatible with Logos Bible Software. View on Logos
