Ah, the stately cedars of Lebanon. They are celebrated in the Bible as the tree of choice for the great Jerusalem temple built by Solomon with the help of his Phoenician friend Hiram, the king of Tyre. Solomon’s own palace complex included “The House of the Forest of Lebanon” (1 Kings 7:2-5). So grand, these trees were the metaphor of choice to describe an indomitable king of Israel compared to his “thornbush” rival (2 Kings 14:9), the illustrious fate of a righteous person (Psalm 92:12), and the haughty might of Assyria at the peak of its power (Ezekiel 31:3). A generation after the great Babylonian war machine had razed Solomon’s glorious temple, and the people could rebuild, it was to the cedars of Lebanon that they looked for the strength and grandeur that would grace their second temple (Ezra 3:7).
Too big to fail? An article recently published in my hometown newspaper noted that global warming is jeopardizing these storied trees.
They like the cold. They need it. Without a few weeks under the snow, the seed cones won’t germinate. Plus, the warmer temps have encouraged damaging pests such as ravenous sawflies to take up fatal residence in the trees.
Truth is, the dying trees and the biblical cedars may not be exactly the same thing. The Cedrus libani, the iconic cedar that marks Lebanon’s flag, its currency, and its airplanes (not to mention countless postcards, t-shirts, and tea cups), doesn’t grow straight and tall. It branches out, majestically, yes; but not in a way conducive for use in building large structures. The Abies cilicica, also native to the northeastern coast of the Mediterranean is a more likely candidate for the structural uses and impressive height of the cedars described in the Bible.
But does it matter? For sentimental reasons, maybe, but not for deeper, theological ones. Jews and Christians for whom those biblical texts cited above are sacred scripture are waking up to the idea that they have a biblical responsibility to care for all of creation — that the same human choices and behavior that contribute to the climate change adversely affecting Lebanon’s cedars also affect polar bears, hummingbirds, and the crops that sustain people in Africa’s Sahel. Although the Bible reflects contexts and challenges very different from ours today, the texts’ warnings against arrogance, greed, and entitlement are timeless reminders of the impact people can have, for good or ill, on their communities and the world around.
When the anonymous prophet, “Second Isaiah,” emboldened the exiled peoples in Babylon to return and rebuild in Jerusalem, he declared, “You will go out in joy and be lead back in peace. The mountains and the hills will burst into song before you, and all the trees of the field shall clap their hands” (Isaiah 55:12). Sure, it’s metaphorical language, but the imagery is apt — the non-human natural world of mountains and trees, birds and bees, has a stake in our decisions. Let’s make them happy.
