JERUSALEM AND THE SACRED OLIVE TREE

Jerusalem meaning ‘habitation of peace’ is one of the world’s oldest cities, and one of the most fraught. That it relates to ‘peace’ seems like an extreme contradiction given the conflicted nature of the city. To seek an answer, I have ventured into its deep mythological beginnings. But first, the outer history.

The Hebrew Bible was until recent centuries the main source of Jerusalem’s history. We know a lot more through modern archaeological, anthropological and linguistic research. The Amana letters are one rediscovered source, diplomatic communications between the Egyptian pharaoh Akhenaten (c.1353–1336 BCE) and the local Canaanite Jebusite rulers.

From its origins around 3000 BCE as a settlement near the Gihon Spring between protective hills, the site would grow into a fortified city. It was on an important trade route and Jerusalem’s long story is one of local rulers being controlled by more powerful states. These include Egyptians, Hittites, Neo-Babylonians, Persians, Alexandrian Greeks, Ptolemies and Seleucids, Romans, Byzantine Christians, Muslim Arabs, European Crusaders, Ottoman Turks, as a British Protectorate and now contested by Israelis and Palestinians.

The city’s strategic situation meant plenty of foreign influence. Diverse conquering peoples migrated and settled there. Jerusalem’s indigenous Judahites were exiled to Babylon eventually to return carrying new influences. All this has resulted in a cultural mix way beyond most cities, with people living cooperatively much of the time.  Pilgrims too have journeyed far to reach Jerusalem. For it is a holy city, which became sacred to three major world religions, Judaism, Christianity, and Islam. 

For Jews Jerusalem was promised. In 2 Chronicles 6:6 King Solomon declares that the Lord said, ‘I have chosen Jerusalem that my name shall be there.’ For Christians it is the site of Jesus Christ’s crucifixion and resurrection. And for Moslems the place from where Mohammed ascended to heaven on his Night Journey.    

The Holy City also lives as a vision of hope. In some legends this was the site of the Garden of Eden, the Paradise Garden and gift of divine Creative powers – an image of a pure primal age, long awaiting its renewal. And John’s final vision in the Book of Revelation is of a spiritual Jerusalem built from the most precious jewels through which flows ‘the river of the water of life, bright as crystal, flowing from the throne of God and of the Lamb, through the middle of the street of the city; also on either side of the river the tree of life, with its twelve kinds of fruit, yielding its fruit each month; and the leaves of the tree were for the healing of the nations. (Rev. 22:2)

Reality lives behind the visions. Jerusalem, habitation of peace, is a name that belongs to the spiritual realms. No human being of whatever faith named her.

This memory was vitally alive in the long-ago days when religion was matriarchal and polytheistic, a characteristic in most of the region of Canaan. But the name ‘habitation of peace’ meant Jerusalem was unique in that no living creature was killed as a sacrifice. Waving grain gave sustenance. Its sacred tree was the olive, with its vital rich oil and its holy vine was the grape. And their fruits were offered to the divine beings.

But the sacred city could only thrive as a place of peace and harmony because opposites came together in the rites of the mystical marriage, the heiros gamos. Bread and wine were at the heart of the marriage feast which took place on the ‘threshing floor of Araunah’. This is where the patriarchal temples and mosque would be built. But that was after union was broken, as it would be, and peace could no longer hold. 

What follows is Jerusalem’s story from that ancient time, as the picture came to me in the rhythms of poetry.

On Jerusalem’s hills with a valley between,

See there the sanctuaries of wonder and peace.

Long before blood was shed, and lives sacrificed,

On a plateau below, only Nature’s fine fruits

Were set down as a sacred love offering.

On one hill, midst olive groves bathed in soft moonlight

The Priestess-Queen waited in her gown pale as snow.

On the other hill, rocky and brightened by sunlight

Priest-King, in robes of the warmest blood hue,

Walked resplendent there, even in shadow.

In the valley, the threshing floor rang loud with singing

Of people bringing in all the harvested grain

For threshing and grinding, to prepare with hearts longing

For the bread-baking day, and the glorious rite –

Look now, for no creature was slain.

The shining Queen descended to the plateau below her,

Bearing oil pressed from olives plucked ripe from her tree.

And the King made the journey down dry stony pathways,

Bringing good wine fermented from grapes of the vine,

Transformed to full sweet potency.

The King and Queen met, and the people sang louder,

For all had come gladly to celebrate love;

Through the royal sacred marriage, and a mystery unfolding,

You would see sun and moon join as one in a dance –

A vision in the heavens above.

As priestess, the Queen then anointed her Priest-King;

She blessed him with oil from her holiest tree.

Many lovers’ hearts opened in the peace of that evening,

And souls wracked by conflict, as they shared bread wine,

Found quiet and inward unity –

O, that Jerusalem’s hills with a valley between

Would again become sanctuaries of wonder and peace.

When no more blood is shed, no lives sacrificed,

Then the whole land will sing, and Nature’s fine fruits

We shall know as love’s sacred peace offering.

This of course is an imagination. In the opposition and hatred dominating the so-called Holy Land now, solutions seem impossible, with Jerusalem and the sacred olive tree never again to be worthy of her name. Yet true peace can come about when enough human beings find the sacred marriage within. We know that. And hope lives in the many souls striving for this reality, and who with love in their hearts reach out to offer the ‘olive branch’ of peace.