Noah's Olive Leaf.
PRECIOUS little leaf, symbol of hope and of peace; well worthy art thou of being thus preserved for thousands of years, to be viewed by generation after generation of the sons of men as a pledge of God's lovingkindness! Far more valuable art thou, leaflet once borne in the bill of a bird, than the glittering diadem worn by Solomon in all his glory. With what delight wert thou once hailed by all that survived of mankind, by the whole Church enclosed in the ark; and we can well believe that even in Paradise the spirit of Noah dwells with pleasure on the recollection of that moment when he first looked upon thee!
To conceive what must have been the joy felt by the patriarchs at the sight of the first leaf from a renovated world, let us try to realize their position when the dove flew back with that leaf in its bill.
When Noah and his family first took refuge in the ark, and the windows of heaven were opened, and the fountains of the great deep broken up, their emotions were doubtless those of thankfulness for deliverance and safety, when the great judgment, so long threatened, so long expected, had come at length on the earth. While the storm raged around them, they were secure; the waves that swept over a guilty world could but lift their floating home nearer to heaven! With their emotions of thankfulness would be mixed those of sorrow, pity, regret, for neighbours, perhaps friends and relatives, who had been warned in vain, then perishing beneath the terrible flood. Had not God Himself shut him in, how often would Noah have thrown wide open the door of the ark to receive the poor struggling, drowning wretches, whose dying eyes would be turned to that refuge which they had rejected and despised until it was too late to seek it.
But when the flood had fulfilled its terrible mission; when no cries of the drowning were borne on the blast; when the cataract of rain had ceased, and the dashing of waters was heard no more; then the excitement, the strong emotions of the family in the ark must also have sunk into comparative rest. As the wild raging of the tempest was exchanged for the stillness of death, and the great vessel floated tranquilly over placid waters, and week after week, month after month passed, without bringing a change, great and probably wearisome monotony would pervade the life of the inmates of the ark. That which they had at first rejoiced in as a refuge, would gradually, but increasingly, become to them like a prison. How long were they to be confined within its narrow bounds; when would they be permitted again freely to tread the earth, and partake once more of its fresh produce?
If the Israelites bitterly recalled to memory the riches of the gardens of Egypt—the cucumbers, the melons, the leeks and the onions—would no such regrets be felt by the family of Noah? Would not woman sigh for the flowers that she had been wont to cherish, and an inexpressible yearning oppress all, a yearning to look once more on the green, smiling face of nature? For how many more months, or years, were weary eyes to rest on the same objects, counting the beams above or the planks below of the now familiar prison? A fear might even arise that the supply of provisions, however large at first, might fail, and privation and want ensue. The venerable Noah may have waited with unshaken faith and calm submission for the hour of freedom, but it is more than probable that the younger members of his family grew impatient under the restraint of lengthened confinement.
At last Noah opened the window of the ark and sent forth a raven. In the monotonous routine of the life which he led, this was an event thought worthy of record; the creature appears to have been sent as a messenger, and its return must have been anxiously awaited. But never again did the dark bird re-enter the ark which he once had quitted.
Again Noah sent forth a bird, a dove; but in the beautiful language of Scripture, "the dove found no rest for the sole of her foot, and she returned unto him into the ark, for the waters were on the face of the whole earth: then he put forth his hand, and took her, and pulled her in unto him into the ark."
Not yet had come the signal for release; patience had not yet had its perfect work; the fathers of mankind, the inheritors of the world, must wait longer ere entering into possession. Seven times the sun rose and set ere the dove was sent forth again by Noah. But this time the gleam of the silver wing was to bring joy to the waiting patriarch: "The dove came in to him in the evening; and, lo, in her mouth was an olive leaf pluckt off: so Noah knew that the waters were abated from off the earth." When was earthly treasure ever received with the rapturous welcome given to that leaf; the first brought from a world new-born, as it were, from the dead!
If we regard the Church of Christ as the ark floating now on the troublous waters of the world, the story of Noah's olive leaf becomes a beautiful parable. "How long, Lord, how long," has been for ages the weary cry of the people of God, waiting and watching for the final deliverance and restitution of all things. They are "safe," for they rest in Christ, but the heirs of the new heaven and the new earth may seem to wait in vain. Unbelief suggests the discouraging thought, "since the fathers fell asleep all things continue as they were from the beginning of the creation." Virtue still suffers; evil still spreads; sin and sorrow, like the waters of the flood, are covering the face of the earth.