The following two chapters were prepared for special
occasions commemorative of typical California
life. The one on "The Olive in Biblical History" was
written by the author in compliance to a request from
"The California Ripe Olive Day Association" to be
used in the observance of the first California Ripe
Olive Day, March 31st, 1915, at the Panama-Pacific
International Exposition.
The chapter on "The Modern Parable of the Orange
Tree" was delivered as a special address at Porterville,
California, just previous to the beginning of the
harvesting of the golden fruit in that section, and is
in keeping with "Orange Day" as observed at the Exposition.
And it is well for us to close the book with these
chapters for the world view only helps us to appreciate
the inland beauty more, and the valleys with
their restricted vision only prepare us in return for
the world enterprises again.
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.
It is most appropriate at this season when California
is just beginning to harvest its "golden
crop" to open wide our eyes and find the message of
these beautiful fruit bearing trees. For the Christ,
who's mind was quick to pronounce a curse on idleness
in the parable of the barren fig tree, would no
doubt have been just as alert to have emphasized
worthy success by speaking a parable of the orange
tree, had there been orange groves in Palistine then
as there are today.
But there were no citrus trees in the Holy Land
when He walked its highways and crossed through
its orchards. Hence the religious worker of today
has the advantage over the founder of our faith of a
visual acquaintance with this luxuriant tree. Indeed
this fruit has, because of its color, become the most
attractive of all fruits in modern life, so universally
in demand that it seems to me that the orange itself
has and is still seeking interpreters. So if, with
Ruskin, we can only "open our eyes and see things"—see
through and back of things, I am sure that we will
clarify the vision of our souls and find emphasized
some abiding truths in a new parable of the orange
tree.
It would be informing to speak of the first orange
fruit found in America—to tell in detail how the
Spanish explorers gave the citrus fruit to the Indians
of Florida, who in eating it dropped the seeds in the
soil, making possible the wild orange groves now
beautifying the valley of the Indian river. For this
is the romantic story of the origin of the orange tree
in America.
Or it would be keenly interesting to every Californian
to read about the arrival of the Franciscans in
the southern part of our State, who established twenty
missions in the rear of each of which was a garden
where the orange, olive and fig were planted and bore
fruit. Because this explains the inception of the industry
in our great commonwealth and puts into our
hand the key which unlocks the entrance to these
modern gardens of Hesperides—these orange belts
now scattered throughout our State.
Or in this day when scholars are feverish to learn
the origin of things, we could speak of the world's
first orange trees which were found in India. From
the two original spices—the bitter and sweet—which
were first discovered there, we could trace the evolution
of the one hundred different varieties of the citrus
fruit which are found in the world today, the
original fruit being imported by merchants from India
into China in the ninth century and into Europe
in the fifteenth century, and then finding its way to
America during the period of Spanish exploration.
But we prefer to be interpretive, to come closer home
than this. We prefer to consider these fruit bearing
orchards as an object lesson immediately at hand
and to think of the labor and activity of the people
co-operating with nature's forces that have made this
golden crop about to be harvested possible. Thus
recognizing at once the suggestion coming so
eloquently from these trees that, the fundamental secret
of all growth in character as well as in nature is
adaption to environment and service, not the passive
submission of Calvinism alone, nor the uncontrollable
egotism of an unrestrained Arminianism, but the
union of both, the working of God with man—spiritual
co-operation, the most helpful phrase in modern
religious thought. So with this primary principle as a
premise let us try to interpret in detail the new parable
of the orange tree. For the man that has learned
its parable has found, as Dr. McClaren would say, the
secret of a fine soul culture.
Some days past as I stood upon an elevation commanding
a view of that great area of eight thousand
acres of orange groves, spreading off into the distance
with its wide expanse of tree tops blended into
a continuous luxuriant green and its myriads of ripening
oranges nestling in the deep green back ground,
like countless numbers of gold fish at the surface of a
sea or like circular stars in some new sky, these were
the three suggestions that came to me as I tried to
learn its beautiful parable.
First, the secret of a refined Christian character is
an abiding sense of the reality of God, as revealed in
Christ. For the finest spirits, the deepest minds and
the most arresting personalities from Gladstone and
Lincoln down to the ordinary citizen, have been those
that have drawn their inspiration and thought from
hidden sources. Just as the fruit and leaves of these
trees receive their rich color from the sunbeams and
absorb their health from the moisture coming from
the heart of God's hills, so the cultured souls of history
have received their winsome illumination of personality
from a light that shineth neither by land nor
sea.
We realize that these trees could not grow where
there is limited sunshine and a restricted water supply.
Neither can men find moral maturity and health
until they possess that type of mind which is characterized
by spiritual reality. We know that California's
far-famed orange orchards would not be possible
without incessant sunlight; and that our golden
fruit would never again pass through the Golden Gate
to the markets of the world, if the sun did not appear
to shower down upon our orchards its magic beauty
gathered in its own paradise beyond the gates of the
morning. But Tennyson, who had a sane knowledge
and appreciation of the Sun of Righteousness, was also
well aware of the secret of a beautiful life when he
said of those who had not discovered it,
""For what are men better than sheep or goats
"That nourish a blind life within the brain,
"If, knowing God, they lift not bands of prayer
"Both for themselves and those who call them friend?"
At first I could not understand why the owners
cultivated their orchards so incessantly. But when I
was told by one of the experts that continual pulverizing
of the soil made the moisture more accessible
to the roots, permitted the oxygen of the air to find its
way to the tree, and liberated the nitrogen in the soil
so that it would be absorbed, then I saw clearly that
there was a scientific reason for the constant harrowing;
and felt that it might be very practical to demand
that we deepen our convictions so that we can
go into the fields of human life equipped with the
mighty contagion of something to say that will go
deeper than the ears, to harrow the inner life of patronizing
listeners. For without the prophet whose
harrowing words opens up a way to the nerve of conscience
and quickens the deeper emotions of the soul
men will not become eager to receive truth and the
masses will remain proselytes of mammon and low
ideals. Indeed the irresistible characters in religious
service like the great singers are those who have had
their hearts broken; but at the same time and as a
result, their interest in righteousness deepened and
their wills nourished and strengthened.
These trees are peculiarly beautiful and strong because
they send their roots into a well prepared soil
thrilling with the liberated elements of life and their
branches into God's air to woo the purity of the sunlight.
And the young who are to lead us safely in
the future are those whose souls have been cultured
by helpful and trying experiences—those who have
been taught to think deeply, to see far in vision and
to act bravely because the conviction of truth and
experience has liberated from the subconscious mind—or
the subsoil of their lives—those elements which
send through the whole man the iron of the prophet
and the revealed wisdom of the apostle.
One of the strange characteristics about the orange
is that the tree is unusually sensitive and the fruit
very hardy. Indeed the tree can be blighted by a
frost that will not injure deciduous fruits so that it
must be planted in localities protected by a warm
climate and God's hills, and often watched and tended
like an infant child. But the orange itself, which is
so hardy, has an advantage over many other varieties
of fruits and can be shipped into any market in the
world. For the citrus fruit is not perishable in the
same sense that the plums and peaches are and after
being removed from the trees may be kept for weeks
with advantage without being destroyed by decay or
losing its beauty.
I say this is rather unusual. But, to mention the second
lesson of the parable, it is no stranger than the
guiding of youth through the formative years into a
maturity, morally beautiful and capable of vision. And
it is only as the home and school, the church and
state watch over these sensitive periods, protecting
the young from the blights of the frosts of skepticism
and sensuality that their lives will mature into characters
as golden and hardy as our native fruit. Sane,
honorable evangelism never excludes Christian nurture
any more than the sunlight obviates the necessity
of soil cultivation.
The orange tree, it is true, does not tower in height
and conspicuous leadership like the giant Sequoias and
Redwoods—although it is said that the bitter specie
of the tree occasionally acquires considerable diameter
and that the trunk of one near Nice still standing in
1789 became so large that two men could scarcely
embrace it. The citrus tree does not tower like Babel.
But better yet, it simply bears fruit for food—which
the giants of the forest fail to do—like the strong men
who prefer only to be reliably useful.
And this third thought suggested by our object lesson
is most apparent. For with the instinct of good
Americans we hasten to declare that the sight of
these trees all comparatively of the same height and
vibrant with the same beauty and glow of health
does not suggest a monarchy, an aristocracy or even
a plutocracy but rather a successful democracy; not
only one of an equality of rights, because they all
have access to the same sunlight and soil, but also an
equality of duty because they all seek to bear fruit—a
commonwealth in which every private citizen is capable
of being an uncrowned king. This must have
been the lesson that Ruskin interpreted from nature
when he said: "A forest of all manner of trees is poor,
if not disagreeable in effect, a mass of one species of
trees is sublime."
And thus as I stood on the highest foothill overlooking
these valleys, these were the most important
thoughts that were suggested to me by what I saw—the
necessity of these three qualities in the forming of
mature character, faith in God, the guidance and protection
of friendship and education for youth, and
useful service, all of which condensed into a single
phrase means the co-operation of God with man in
producing the beautiful fruit of a refined, symmetrical
life.
And then it dawned upon me that a number of other
men had also learned parables from the trees. For
as I looked over that great expanse of orchards to the
south, detecting the irrigating streams flowing among
the trees, with patches of the barren desert appearing
here and there in striking contrast, the results of an
abiding faith in God came to me in the words of
David:
"Blessed is the man that walked not in the counsel
of the ungodly, nor standeth in the way of sinners,
nor sitteth in the seat of the scornful.
"He shall be like a tree planted by the rivers of
water, that bringeth forth his fruit in his season, his
leaf also shall not wither, and whatsoever he doeth
shall prosper."
And finally as I descended the foothill and came
long side of an orchard and saw a barren, scrubby
trunk next to a splendid orange tree vigorous and
laden down with fruit, the words of Christ pressed to
my lips for utterance: "By their fruit ye shall know
them. * * * A good tree cannot bear evil fruit,
neither can an evil tree bear good fruit."
It was then that I said to myself, why should not
all men observe and find the helpful parable in this
favorite California tree. Because we are more than
mere animals we should rebel against hearing the terrible
parable of a barren fig tree pronounced on
our lives. But if we profit by the thoughts suggested
by a modern parable of the orange tree, then our
spirit will be as beautiful and wholesome as the
eternal green of its leaves, our character as golden as
its fruit and our deeds as numerous as its blossoms,
for often the new blossoms appear before the ripe
fruit has been picked from the branches.
Punctuation has been standardised. Asterisms retained as in the original text. All other
errors and inconsistencies have been retained
except as follows; (the first line is the original text, the second
the passage as currently stands):
-
decipher tendencies and tenencies are prophetic.
decipher tendencies and tendencies are prophetic.
- will be another similiar to it in
will be another similar to it in
- Nor the sordid traffickers in human fllesh,
Nor the sordid traffickers in human flesh,
- That the tumultous Atlantean stalwart,
That the tumultuous Atlantean stalwart,
- The raging of of our sea!
The raging of our sea!
- Aristotle, Palto, Hegel, Kant and Eucken.
Aristotle, Plato, Hegel, Kant and Eucken.
- man was worthy of a crown of olives unles
man was worthy of a crown of olives unless
- and that the fullness of the worlds life
and that the fullness of the world's life
- the torch of enlightenment and fulfilll today's
the torch of enlightenment and fulfill today's
- in the hour of perplexity, redicule and hardship
in the hour of perplexity, ridicule and hardship
- the God who sheperds us with His love
the God who shepherds us with His love
- Earger--so providenced--to carry to all pagan shores,
Eager--so providenced--to carry to all pagan shores,
- I thorougly believe that those beautiful
I thoroughly believe that those beautiful
- Jerulsalem to regain calm and self-control
Jerusalem to regain calm and self-control
- Or, as He walked though the orchards,
Or, as He walked through the orchards,
- the two original spicies--the bitter and sweet
the two original spices--the bitter and sweet
- has an adavantage over many other varieties
has an advantage over many other varieties