In the Old Testament times the olive was recognized as the "fruit of
fruits." But during the hurry and rush of Western progress a gross
oversight has been committed, especially on the part of the American
people, in failing to fully appreciate its value; and as a result the
olive has not as yet gained its true leadership here among the elect of
the trees, composed of the orange, pear, apple, pomegranate, fig, and
date.
But the oversight has been discovered by the pioneers of the olive
industry in America, and the signs of the time indicate that the olive
will be known here as it was in the Holy Land. And, with the
unprecedented developments in the ripe olive industry, it has an
opportunity of becoming even more favorably known than ever before.
By a careful study, recall the place that the olive held in the old
Promised Land and you will get a faint idea of what we mean by the
rediscovery of the olive in this new Promised Land situated here on the
coast of our Western empire.
Where the olive originated, we do not know. Some think in Syria. Others
are not afraid to say that it is as old as man himself. For not only did
it grow previous to the flood, as is indicated by the dove bringing an
olive leaf to the ark. But some actually maintain that it was one of the
trees that grew in the Garden of Eden, wherever that may have been. And
whether such an assertion is far-fetched or not, there is absolutely no
reason why this wonderfully fruitful tree should not have been one of
the very first trees appearing on the globe for the sustenance of human
life.
But wherever it came from, of this Bible students are absolutely
certain--that it was the most popular tree in the Promised Land.
Indeed, it seems to have been one of the inducements that led the
children of Israel escaping from Egyptian captivity to move toward
Canaan, the Land of Promise with an irresistible expectancy. For the
Promised Land that they were to enter is described--a description which
would most accurately apply to our own California--vividly in the Bible
as follows:
"For the Lord thy God bringeth them into a good land, a land of
brooks and water, of fountains and depths that spring out of valleys
and hills. A land of vines and fig trees and pomegranates, of olive
and honey."
And not only were these freemen from Egypt encouraged by the fact that
they would find the olive with other trees flourishing in the Promised
Land; but they were also commanded, according to the author of
Deuteronomy, to recognize its superior importance and cultivate it
everywhere, in these clearly put words: "Thou shalt have olive trees
through all thy coasts." And today the very names of different
localities in Palestine, such as the Mount of Olives and
Gethsemane--that is, Gath-Semen, which means the "oil press"--indicates
the love of those people for the beautiful olive groves, which gently
nodded at each other across roads and lanes when wooed by the winds,
even as they do in California, this newer Land of Promise.
No one saw how conspicuously and romantically the olive was associated
with the early Bible history of these people, as well as the prophet
Jotham, who spoke the famous fable of the olive--in which he
unmistakably infers that people should recognize it as the most
important of the fruits--in these striking and beautiful words, found in
the book of Judges:
"And Jotham went and stood on the top of Mount Gerizim and lifted up
his voice and said, 'Hearken unto me, ye men of Shechem. * * * The
trees went forth on a time to anoint a king over them and they said
unto the olive tree, "Reign over us" (or, as one of the versions so
suggestively translates the Hebrew, "Wave your branches over us").'"
The olive also held a most conspicuous place in the religious life of
the peoples of the Promised Land. Indeed, in the building of Solomon's
temple 480 years after the Babylonian captivity, the olive wood was
honored by being used in completing the most sacred parts of the
edifice. The cherubims, the sacred symbols of Divine wisdom, one on each
side of the oracle and each with wings five feet long extending over the
temple walls, were made of the olive tree.
In fact, the book of First Kings shows that the olive wood was built
into most of the conspicuous parts of the temple, in these definite
words:
"And for the entering of the oracle, be made doors of the olive
tree; the lintel and side posts were a fifth part of the wall. So
was also made for the door of the temple posts of the olive tree, a
fourth part of the wall."
Not only was the olive given a primary place industrially and
religiously; but it was also pressed into service on festive occasions
of joy, commemorating historic events. It was used at the great feast of
the Tabernacles, in constructing the booths, made principally of olive
branches, intermingled with branches from other trees. And when spring
hangs her infant blossoms on California's thousands of olive trees,
rocked in the cradle of the western breeze, we will not fail to
understand why Nehemiah reminds us of the early Jews' deep appreciation
of the olive branch as a symbol of joy, in these words:
"So the people went forth and brought them olive branches (with pine
and myrtle) and made themselves booths, every one upon the roof of
his house, and in their courts. And all the congregation of them
that were come again out of the captivity made booths and sat under
booths, and there was very great gladness."
And the Psalmist himself must have been inspired by the joy that came
from the prosperity of these olive groves, when he wrote, in the one
hundred and twenty-eighth Psalm:
"For thou shalt eat the labor of thine hands, happy shalt thou be,
and it shall be well with thee. Thy children shall be like olive
plants round about thy table."
Indeed, with the Greeks and Romans, the Israelites found that there was
no tree that could be used for so many purposes as the olive--its fruit
for food, its wood for costly decorations, its branches and blossoms for
festive occasions, and its oil for medicine and light. For not only was
the olive itself used, but the oil was also used for the anointing of
the bodies of the sick, the captive and the dead. And the oil was
likewise valued for illuminating purposes in the lamps and vessels in
the tabernacle. And how highly they regarded it, we can fully understand
by reading these words from Leviticus:
"Command the children of Israel that they bring in to thee pure oil
of olive beaten for the light to cause the lamps to burn
continually."
There was no spot in all of Palestine that Christ loved to frequent more
than the Mount of Olives, to which he retired for meditation and rest.
And why was this? It may have been because of the general outlook that
he gained upon nature; which is doubtless true in part. But it was not
the primary nor exclusive reason why He resorted to the Mount of Olives.
For if there are tongues in trees, as well as sermons in stones, I
thoroughly believe that those beautiful olive groves must have said
something to His observing mind. What was it? Why did He go to the
Mount of Olives?
Perhaps it was because the olive is the symbol of peace. As Ovid said,
"In war the olive branch of peace is in use." So the olive groves which
the poet Browning says "have the fittest foliage for dreams," may have
helped Him in coming from the turmoil of Jerusalem to regain calm and
self-control for a warring soul.
Or, as He walked through the orchards, noticing that each tree was
sympathetic to the rest and that each appeared to be a neighbor to the
rest, He may have been inspired by thoughts similar to those of the
eloquent naturalist who said, "The trees live but to love and in all the
groves the happy trees love each his neighbor." And as a result He found
it more possible to return to His work with a quickened love for His
fellow-men.
Or perhaps suggestions for chivalrous meekness came to Him as He
observed the gray foliage of the trees modestly glistening in the
sunlight. It might have helped Him to say, "Blessed are the meek."
It may have been that the inspiration of timeless time, the power of
eternal years, was awakened in His thought by the knowledge of the
marvelous age of those trees. He may have known that well cared for
trees will live for three hundred years and even longer. For so great is
the olive's hold on life that even when a dying tree is cut down close
to the ground, its vigorous root will give birth to still another tree.
Or it may have been that the Mount of Olives, clothed with green beauty,
like many of our own olive-planted foothills, helped Him more to find
the spiritual inspiration of nature than a trip to some other, bald and
naked, mountain; helped Him to say:
"All are but parts of one stupendous whole
Whose body Nature is, and God the soul;
Great in the earth as in the ethereal frame;
Warms in the sun, refreshes in the breeze,
Glows in the stars and blossoms in the trees."
All these inferences may be true and doubtless are in part. But--if I
dare say it--it seems to me that the primary lesson that Christ learned
in frequenting the Mount of Olives was the importance of fruitfulness of
life. For the predominant characteristic of the olive is fruitfulness.
So much so that Spencer in his "Faerie Queen" speaks of the warlike
birch--"the beech for shafts," "the ash for nothing ill," "the willow
for forlorn paramours;" but always and every time, he speaks of the
olive as the "fruitful olive."
And this is the reason why the olive should wave its branches over the
other trees. For, like manna, it is a composite growth--a food, a fruit,
a medicine. Always fruitful for a three-fold end; and never failing to
be prolific, the trees bearing even for centuries.
And this is why the prophet Jotham reports the trees as first urging the
olive to become king; and why he felt disappointed when the olive tree,
in the beginning, refused, saying:
"Should I leave my fatness, wherewith by me they honor God and man,
and go to be promoted over the trees?"
For, according to the fable, the trees after consulting the fig and vine
were finally compelled to temporarily enthrone the worthless bramble as
king, even as Israel had selected the most incompetent man for ruler,
instead of choosing the most efficient statesman who was available.
But justice and good judgment would not long tolerate the rule of a
worthless potentate. So they ultimately succeeded in enthroning a worthy
king, in throwing away the bramble and finally crowning the olive to
wave its branches modestly but worthily over the other fruit-bearing
trees.