02. CHAPTER II CLIMATE, SEASONS, SCENERY, AND WEATHER
CHAPTER II CLIMATE, SEASONS, SCENERY, AND WEATHER Custom is the fifth element in the universe. — Syrian Proverb.
Life in Palestine while it was largely affected by its industries and institutions, also stood closely related to natural conditions that were beyond the control of man, such as climate, seasons, and weather. The Arabs of to-day recognize this when they say that the Universe is composed of earth, air, fire, water, — and custom. As the Bible often refers to the climate and scenery of Palestine, an acquaintance with these gives interest and exactness to its meaning.
1. Climate. — Palestine is a land of sunshine and outdoor life. Although the familiar term “ from Dan to Beersheba “ indicates quite a small area, about the size of Wales, there is considerable variety of temperature, owing to difference of elevation; Mount Hermon, with streaks of snow in midsummer, being 9000 feet above the sea, and the Dead Sea 1292 feet below it. Yet, over all, it is characteristically a land of blue skies and sunny warmth. Snow does not fall on the plain along the coast, and there is uninterrupted sunshine from the beginning of May to the end of September. This made it possible for vast numbers to congregate at Jerusalem at the different Feasts, and for large multitudes to remain for several days with Christ in desert places.
2, Seasons. — In the circle of the year, the successive months have much the same relationship to heat and cold as in Great Britain, except that in Palestine it is always considerably warmer. The four seasons are not so distinctly marked as in more northern countries. The leading features of the year are those indicated in the promise to Noah — “seed-time and harvest, cold and heat, summer and winter” (Genesis 8:22). The rainless period makes a natural division of five and seven months, and the Arabs usually speak of the year as summer and winter. Spring is referred to by its special name as Growing-time, but autumn loses some of the meaning that it has at home, owing to the fact that, while grapes, olives, and other fruits mature then, the important grain harvest is earlier in May and June. This is the time of harvest referred to in Joshua 3:15, 1 Samuel 12:17. In the same way, alluding to the grain harvest, the prophet follows the natural course of events when he says, “The harvest is past, the summer is ended “ (Jeremiah 8:20).
3. Months. — A short account of the months will show what the year brings to young and old in Palestine.
(1) January. — This is the month of severest cold, darkest days, and heaviest rain. Snow falls on Lebanon and highest ridges, and is preserved there until the warm weather of March and April melts it to supply the fountains for summer use.
(2) February. — Showers and sunshine rapidly alternate. The Arabs call it “ the one-eyed “ — a face dark on one side and bright on the other. They also say of it “ February has no rules,’’ and “ Though February storms and blusters, it has the smell of summer in it.” Almond-trees blossom, late barley is sown.
(3) March. — High winds, but more sunshine. The showers of March and April are “the latter rain” of Scripture, not usually affecting the deep roots of the fruittrees, but refreshing the standing crops of barley and wheat before they whiten to the harvest. Sometimes, however, the heaviest rainfall of the year occurs at this time. Apricot-trees join the almond in white array, like the hawthorn hedges at home.
(4) April. — This is the month of flowers, and the land looks more green and beautiful than at any other season of the year. Now and then hot, dry winds from the Syrian desert blow for three days at a time, melting the snow and hastening all forms of vegetation. Harvesting begins in the Jordan valley and in early parts of the seaside plain. Fruit-trees generally — peach, pomegranate, olive, and such like — are in blossom and young foliage.
(5) May. — The sun increases in strength; rain ceases for about five months. Flowers disappear and grass withers. Harvesting in plains and low land. Spring fruits are ready, such as green almonds, apricots, and early plums. Vines are in blossom.
(6) June. — Harvesting is continued on higher ground. The land lies bare and parched for summer rest, except where there are fruit-trees, vines, and irrigated gardens for vegetables.
(7) July. — The increasing summer heat is tempered by cool westerly breezes. During this and the following month the peasants are busy on the threshing-floors.
(8) August. — The hottest month of the year, the average on the coast plain being 87° in the shade at midday, and considerably higher by the Sea of Galilee and in the lower Jordan valley. Grapes, figs, peaches, apples, and pears ripen.
(9) September. — The ordinary summer heat is often intensified by siroccos or desert winds more prolonged than those of spring, with temperature ranging from 90° to a little over 100°- Figs are dried for winter use, and grapes are made into raisins, syrup, and wine. Pomegranates, quinces, and bananas ripen. The first shower after the long drought of summer usually falls about the end of this month, followed by a fortnight of bright, hot weather.
(10) October. — Conclusion of grape and fig harvest, olives are gathered, fatted sheep killed, and storage of supplies for winter use attended to. Sugar-cane and dates are ripening. Heavier showers fall — “ the early rain’’ of Scripture. Ploughing commences, the hard, dry ground having now been softened by rain.
(11) November. — Continuance of ploughing and wheat and barley sowing.
(12) December. — Heavier rains and cooler weather, with snow on Lebanon towards the end of the month. Oranges, citrons, and lemons ripen. Vines are pruned in this and following month.
4. Day and Night. — In Palestine there is a difference of about four hours between the longest and shortest days of the year. Sunrise is a distinct moment, bringing a swift and unmistakable change over the landscape. The stars rapidly vanish, a flush of lilac spreads over the eastern sky, with long streaks of pink radiating from a yellow centre that every moment grows brighter and brighter. Then in a moment, with a suddenness that almost suggests some accompanying sound, the sun emerges from behind the hills, a glittering disc in a cloudless sky. Instantly “ the shadows flee away.” They hasten out of sight as if detected in evil-doing. You can see the swiftly-moving line of division between the light, with its sparkle and detail, and the shadow lying dull and indistinct. As the sun rises rapidly higher and sends shafts of light over the plains and down into the open valleys and mountain glens, you see clumps of pine, slopes of olive, and gray nestling villages suddenly springing into life as if startled out of sleep. The Bible allusions to the approach of light and the dispersion of darkness, whether natural or spiritual, all belong to the Oriental sunrise, and carry an emphasis that would scarcely suggest itself in northern lands, where the dawn, beautiful in its own way, advances imperceptibly towards a milder radiance. It is this authority of the sunrise, the sudden call, and the sharp distinction between light and shade, that we find in Isaiah 60:1-2, “Arise, shine, for thy light is come.’ See also Psalms 139:12, Isaiah 58:8, Matthew 5:14, Acts 26:18, 2 Corinthians 4:4, 2 Corinthians 6:14, Ephesians 5:8. So the blessing of Moses (Numbers 6:24-27) takes its form from the sunrise, and implies the same good to the soul that the sun brings to the world. To the Oriental mind sunlight means Light, Life, and Purity. Regarding purity, one of their proverbs says, “The eye of the sun needs no veil,” meaning that it has no sin to hide — it is absolutely pure. These are also the leading thoughts in Psalms 19:7-8, where the law of the Lord is compared to sunlight. The same associations give the beautiful simile of the just ruler in 2 Samuel 23:4. From 12 to 3 p.m. is the time of greatest heat. Matthew 20:12. The fierce rays strike down from above, the glare flashes up from the stony ground, the air quivers, and the mountains have a flattened-down appearance under the heat-haze. Plants hang limp and drooping, birds cease to twitter in the branches, at times the cicalas or tree- crickets make the silence startling by a pause in their deafening zee-zee chirping, and the shepherd gathers his flock around him under the shelter of a walnut-tree by the brook, or under the shadow of a rock goes to sleep with his reed-flute in his hand. It is an hour that gives vividness and reality to many familiar phrases and allusions. To one resting in the cool shade from such oppression, there comes a new wealth of meaning into the words, “He restoreth my soul” (Psalms 23:3), “under the shadow of the Almighty” (Psalms 91:1), “the sun shall not smite thee by day” (Psalms 121:6), “ above the brightness of the sun” (Acts 26:13), “neither shall the sun light on them nor any heat” (Revelation 7:16). As the afternoon advances the air becomes cooler, and beautiful shades of colour take the place of dusty gray and common brown, especially where the light falls on the lofty Lebanon, the hills around Galilee, or the cliffs that rise up behind the Dead Sea. The sun sets as rapidly as it rose. As one watches the bright descent behind the Mediterranean, the familiar words come to mind, “the sun knoweth his going down“ (Psalms 104:19). And everybody in the land knows it; not only the labourer in the open field, but also the workman down in the narrow street of the town. There is no need of city clock or factory bell to announce the hour. “Man goeth forth unto his work and to his labour until the evening “ (Psalms 104:23). When the sun sets, all work ceases. The short time before and after sunset is the cool of the evening, when the dry wind from the land begins to blow, and quickly becomes cooler than the moist day breeze from the sea. Isaac availed himself of it; and at Beyrout, Damascus, Sidon, and Jerusalem it is still the time when the citizens go out to walk or ride for health and pleasure.
“The beasts of the forest “ (Psalms 104:20) have now for the most part suffered the fate of the forest, but in the mountain villages, as the evening shadows move up the glens, the jackals creep out and yelp to one another and provoke the challenge of the village dogs.
Half an hour after sunset the stars begin to rush forth and sparkle in the cloudless sky. As we look up at them, with so much of the diameter of the earth between us and the light, the sky appears darker and the stars larger, softer, and more lustrous than in northern lands. They seem to stand out and reach down, as if expecting to be noticed. When Jacob at Bethel lay down to rest, footsore and weary, under the open sky, it was not strange that the Divine word of promise should gather shape and meaning from the two things that the day had forced upon his attention — the infinite dust of the earth, and the infinite glory of the stars. Travellers in the desert usually prefer to journey by night for greater coolness and safety, and still, like the Magi, take their guidance from the stars. The moon, especially in autumn, shines with astonishing brightness, and the promise “nor the moon by night“ is full of meaning in a land where it is dangerous to sleep under its rays, and where the traveller sometimes opens his sunshade to ward off the bewildering dazzle. As Orientals reckon time by the lunar month, the day begins and ends with sunset. Thus among the Jews, Saturday night is our Friday evening, a reckoning that survives in the West in our Christmas Eve. The hour of the working -day is reckoned from sunrise; thus, taking sunrise at six, noon is the sixth hour, and the eleventh hour is an hour before sunset. The time varies so little from day to day, and brings such a decisive change as to light and darkness, that appointments made with reference to sunrise and sunset have a precision that would be impossible in a land of clouds and prolonged twilight.
5. Atmosphere. — As there are neither mists nor mines ii Palestine the air is wonderfully clear. Travellers starting on a day’s journey of twenty-five or thirty miles see their point of destination lying distinctly in front of them, and at first wonder why they never seem to come any nearer to it. To one standing on Mount Ebal in Samaria, the southern heights around Jerusalem are visible, and northwards there is a clear view of Hermon at the southern end of Lebanon rising up behind Dan and the sources of the Jordan. Again from Hermon one can see the plain between the Lebanon ranges narrowing towards the entrance to Hamath. From each of these mountain prospects there is a full view of the plateau east of the Jordan, and on the west, of the straight coast-line of the Mediterranean. Under this enamelling light remote objects show up clear in outline that in England would lie folded away in blue haze. Visitors to the country are apt to suppose that the land is smaller than it really is, being deceived by the clearness of the atmosphere. For the same reason the Lebanon range rising from 3000 to 10,000 feet above the sea looks less sublime. than the hills of Scotland, as its appearance, at least in slimmer, gets no help from moist air and dark clouds shrouding the summits. In the Bible all references to distance are in keeping with this extraordinary clearness of the air. Abraham saw Moriah “afar off” (Genesis 22:4); Moses had a complete view of the land he was not to enter (Deuteronomy 34:1-3). When John says of the new Jerusalem, “I saw no temple therein” (Revelation 21:22), the impression is that of one gazing upon the earthly Jerusalem where, under the beating sunshine and cloudless sky, everything stands out sparkling, particular, and unmistakable.
Thus also we have the distant recognition of Ahimaaz and Jehu. Again in the parables, the prodigal son is seen “afar off,” and in the same way, beyond the great gulf, the rich man sees Abraham and Lazarus in his bosom. One of the forms of Christ’s Temptation was a mountain vision of the kingdoms of the world. In Palestine this distinctness of remote objects is too familiar to be noticed by the Oriental, and after a time even to the Western resident it becomes more real though not more beloved than the soft blue obscurities of the English horizon. The transmission of sound in the clear elastic air of these lands is also remarkable. Visitors newly arrived in Palestine are apt to think that voices in the street are speaking in the house; proclamations are made to a whole village from the roof of the sheikh’s house; in the city the voice of the muezzin in the mosque-tower calls the neighbourhood to prayer from sleep and work, and peasants converse on opposite sides of a wide valley. The Bible also speaks of such public announcement from the house-top (Luke 12:3). Again, when Moses and Joshua were coming down from the Mount, the shout of battle was distinguished from the sound that floated up to them — the rhythmic beating of the idolatrous dance (Exodus 32:17-18). Similarly Saul recognizes the voice of David on the distant height (1 Samuel 26:13, 1 Samuel 26:17), cf. Judges 9:7. Other instances might be mentioned, such as the reading of the law at Ebal and Gerizim (Joshua 8:33), the open-air utterances of Solomon (2 Chronicles 4:1-22) and Ezra (Nehemiah 8:1-18), and generally the preaching of the Lord Jesus to large multitudes.
6. Landscape. — When Palestine is seen for the first time, the eye is charmed with the bright distinctness of everything and with the beautiful blue of sea and sky. Then comes a feeling of disappointment as favourite features of beautiful scenery in other lands are looked for in vain. There are no farm-houses dotting the landscape; no fields of grass, no horses or cattle grazing at liberty; no forests are visible; the lakes lie low in the Jordan valley; the rivers are small, and the brooks are dry in summer. Where are the cedars, vines, fig-trees, and the beauty of the olive? Is this the Promised Land? Was this the inheritance of the chosen people 1
Notwithstanding the deterioration that the land has undergone since the time of the kingdom of Israel and the Roman Empire, it is still beautiful when the eye has learnt what to look for. The chief glory of Palestine is in its colour, the beautiful tints of morning and evening, and the purity of its atmosphere. There is much to enjoy and admire in the restful outline of the great Lebanon range, the sublimity of the mountain gorges, the weird desolation of the wilderness, the great olive forest of Beyrout, the green loveliness of Damascus and Nablous (Shechem), the palm-adorned plains of Acre and Jaifa, and the gorgeous sunsets on the Lake of Galilee and the Dead Sea. Have you ever wondered why the Bible seldom describes scenery after the manner of modern travellers? Why is there not more notice of the effect of landscapebeauty on the mind, and of companionship with what we call the moods of nature 1 Nature is rather a servant who has to wait and bring what is wanted, than a teacher to whom the pupils come for inspiration and beautiful ideals. The inquiry is instructive when we remember that the Bible abounds in instances of accurate indication of artistic effect when the occasion requires it. Thus in Psalms 80:1-19 the resemblance between Israel and a ruined vineyard is wrought out with much detail. An artist reads with rapture the description of the downfall of Tyre (Ezekiel 27:1-36), and calls it pre-Raphaelite, bold in particulars of reality. Again, in Song of Solomon 4:1, dark, glossy hair is very effectively likened to the intense luminous black of a flock of goats on the hillside, and in Song of Solomon 4:3, the comparison of an olive brow to the smooth rind of a pomegranate, with its pale skin-like gloss and green shading for the temples, is a simile that would satisfy the fastidious eye of a Herkomer or Tennyson. But one feels that a different range of feeling is reached when the Christian poet says: — And beauty ’born of murmuring sound
Shall pass into her face. [1] In one case nature remains outside, passive and appealing to the senses; in the other she has passed within, is active, and moulds the disposition. In explanation of this three reasons may be given: —
(1) The special purpose of the Bible. — The Bible is the Word of God, its message is from Him, about Him, and ultimately, even in our salvation, for Him. Its first place is not for nature, but for the God of nature and of the soul. When reference is made to the sublime and beautiful in the external world, it is to proclaim that the Lord rejoices in His works and rules over all. This supreme connection is never lost although nature is sometimes represented as a personality and rejoicing in herself. (Psalms 29:1-11; Psalms 65:1-13; Psalms 114:1-8) Thus in Psalms 54:1-7. the survey of wonderful adaptation becomes a hymn of praise to the wisdom and power of the Creator. “O Lord, how manifold are Thy works! “ Compare Job 28:1-28; Psalms 147:1-20; Psalms 148:1-14; Isaiah 9:1-21; Habakkuk 3:1-19. Much in the same way, when an Oriental is shown anything beautiful or wonderful in nature he almost invariably exclaims, “ Praise to the Creator! “ Such absorbing pre-occupation with God’s glory and the moral life explains how in the Psalms, Prophecies, Gospels, and Epistles the objects and effects of natural scenery are only referred to when serving the purposes of illustration. It is owing to this important connection with solemn and sacred subjects, that natural objects in Palestine, the humble implements of its trades, and the various parts and furnishings of its houses, have a sanctity and symbolism unmet with elsewhere. It is almost with a feeling of profanation that the Western resident watches the people of Palestine in their ordinary work doing things that to us, but not usually to them, wear a high meaning of parable, and handling with simple unconcern things that to us have become exponents of the Gospel and preachers of immortality.
Thus the Lebanon peasant stands on the threshing-floor with Ms fan or -wooden pitchfork in his hand, and separates the wheat from the chaff. Peasants come to the Jordan ford and wade waist-deep across the stream, and one stands mid-way in the current and looks back to see how the others are faring, without any thought of Bunyan’s vision and the hopes of the dying Christian. Similarly the fisherman mends his net by the Sea of Galilee without thinking that he
FORDING THE JORDAN. has a soul to be caught, and the farmer sets up pillars of rough stone in his vineyard and splashes them with a wash of lime to gleam in the night and frighten away the jackals, without thinking that there are far more important grapes to be protected. And so, busy and expanding Jerusalem of to-day, with its sects and impostures, has a wall far wider than the explorer sinks his shaft to discover; its name Zion now belongs to many nations, and the city of God to the whole world.
(2) The Oriental mind and landscape. — The enjoyment of landscape beauty for its own sake is a modern product of Western life, and the ordinary Oriental has no eye for it His mind is practical rather than aesthetic or scientific. He accepts devoutly the signs and results of adaptation in the natural ’world, but he does not trouble about the process. He is indifferent to botany, geology, and archaeology, and generally regards the study of secondary causes and the explanation of nature as an impertinence.
He is interested in plants for food and medicine, in the forest for fuel, in the hills for health and defense, in ancient ruins for hidden treasure, and in the stars for direction and destiny. Thus Lot was an Oriental artist when he looked upon the plain of Sodom and saw that it was well watered (Genesis 13:10); similarly Achsah in her petition for the water-springs of her inheritance (Joshua 15:19); also Isaac when the woodland smell of Esau’s raiment reminded him of “a field which the Lord hath blessed" (Genesis 27:27). Doubtless the ordinary Israelite of ancient times, like the modern Syrian, generally regarded the world around him from the point of view of industrial thrift; it was a world that he had been appointed to till and subdue, and into which labour, as curse or counteractive, had entered because of sin. The modern Syrian simply sees in nature what the heroes of Homer and Virgil usually looked for, namely, fertility and refreshment, the beauty of the abundant crop, and the pleasure of the shading tree and cool fountain. In all likelihood the Israelite of ancient times was the same, with a strong sense of attachment, however, to familiar and favoured localities, as we see in the just pride with which all Israelites regarded Jerusalem, in Naaman’s chivalrous protest on behalf of the rivers of Damascus, and in the Samaritan woman’s championship of Jacob’s well.
(3) Idolatry and landscape. — A third reason that affected the outlook upon nature was the surrounding heathen worship of the powers of nature. This polluted the beautiful in creation, just as gambling threatens now to take possession of some of our best in-door games and out-door recreations. The “high places’’ of Baal and Asht6reth had their green trees, cool air, sparkling fountains, and pleasant prospects. In such scenes, away from the common routine, where the sun’s heat could not oppress, and the fountain bursting from the cavern spread life and beauty wherever it went, it seemed not only an impulse from within but a call from above to cast aside care, and give the heart up to merriment and revelry. The Israelite had his ancestral seat under the vine-trellis and sweet-scented fig-tree, and his legitimate rejoicings at the Feasts of Pentecost and Tabernacles, but the heart had always a secret and dangerous set towards the festivities of nature-worship. The keeping of the Law, which was their political protection, and the safeguard of the weak against the strong, left a loveless, unfilled place in the common hearts of men. While securing morality, it did not create the joyful, purified heart. Constraint was not comfort, and the law was not life; and it needed the express prohibitions in the second commandment, and the constant warnings of the prophets, to make Palestine the Holy Land, that is, with all its scenery, industries, and institutions devoted to the Lord and to Him only. Hence there might have been a note of defiance mingling with the adoration when the Psalmist said, “ The heavens declare the glory of God” (Psalms 19:1) — not the grandeur of Baal or the fancies of the heathen soothsayer. Such contamination would tend to alienate the earnest Israelite, and make him suspicious and silent towards the beautiful in nature. This antagonism between holiness and happiness was removed when Christ said, “ I came that they may have life, and may have it abundantly” (John 10:10), rebuking at once the narrowness of the letter and the heathen debasement of the physical world. Since then the book of the Law has been to us a larger volume than it was to the ancient Israelite; and nature, delivered from the bondage of idolatry, has given us many beautiful thoughts about the mind of God. At the present day in Syria and Palestine, the Christian monasteries occupy many of the sites of the idolatrous high places, and in cloisters built of the great stones and pillars of the Baal temples perpetuate the error of the Pharisee — that religion means separation from the world. The time when Palestine looks greenest and most beautiful is the beginning of April (Song of Solomon 2:11-13). There is, then, a great simultaneous outburst of flowers — daisies, poppies, and red anemones appearing in astonishing abundance. This sudden and short-lived greenness of the landscape, along with the multitude of bright flowers, is much more impressive in Palestine than in a country where one walks on turf and sees green fields during the greater part of the year. In the month of May it rapidly disappears as the crops ripen and are gathered in, and the plants wither for want of rain. This fact of climate enters into the frequent allusion to the brevity of life in connection with grass and flowers, and it gives a special emphasis to the appeal, “If God so clothe the grass of the field “ (Matthew 6:30). The modern Arabs notice the same features of brevity, profusion, and beauty, saying in their familiar proverbs, “The sons of flesh are like grass,” “The troubles of life are more than the grasses of the field,” and “ Children are the flowers of the world.’’
7. Weather Changes. — The state of the weather is seldom a topic of conversation among Orientals. The Syrian peasant, when asked as to whether the day is likely to keep fair, usually says, “As the Lord wills,” or, with a haphazard look around him, replies, “At present there is no rain.” He has not given a thought to the subject, and has no opinion to offer. Among themselves such matters are not referred to in saluting a fellow traveler on the road. There are several reasons for this reticence: (1) A certain kind of weather is so uniformly characteristic of the different months and periods of the year that the habit of observation is not called for. When there is rain the Oriental says, “This is its time; “when the heat is overpowering he wipes his brow and says, “It is the custom; what can we do?” Hence the wonderfulness of the shower in wheat harvest in the beginning of June, when the rain had ceased, not to return for several months (1 Samuel 12:17). (2) The introduction of something springing fresh from the actual circumstances of the moment is out of harmony with the dignified but cut-and-dry formalities of Oriental salutation. The weather belongs to nobody, and a reference to it does not lead up to any assurance of good-will, or offer of service, or expectation of benefit. (3) A suspicion of indolence and impiety is apt to attach itself to the critical observation of the signs of the sky. The thought of Ecclesiastes 11:4 is repeated by the Arabic proverb: “The lazy man becomes an astrologer.” A missionary hurrying home in a heavy shower saw from under his umbrella a Moslem friend plodding along unprotected in the wet, and said to him, “This is a dreadful day of rain!” With a solemn upward look the old man replied, “Do you think He does not understand His work?” The wretchedness of the situation could not be disputed, but the thought was that of the patriarch, “Shall we receive good at the hand of God, and shall we not receive evil?” (Job 2:10).
While the weather does not furnish a topic of conversation in, the East, its leading signs are understood and acted upon. In a limited territory like Palestine, bordered by the sea, the desert, and the mountain range, everything with regard to heat and cold, dryness and moisture, depends upon the direction of the wind. The west wind is the most pleasant and refreshing.
It brings clouds and showers from the Mediterranean
(1 Kings 18:44; Luke 12:54). At the end of summer there is often a repetition of what happened when Elijah prayed and Gehazi watched on Mount Carmel. A small gray cloud rises over the clear sea-line in the south-west, and the sky becomes rapidly darkened by heavy masses of cloud driven by a strong wind, soon accompanied by thunder and lightning. When this wind begins to blow at this particular time, and the thistledown to fly over the bare fields, the peasants know what to expect, and hurry to the vineyards and housetops to gather in the drying raisins and figs before the rain falls in torrents. The north wind is remarkable for its power of arresting rain and dispersing clouds. The translation of the Authorised Version in Proverbs 25:2-3 has thus the support of the climate. In the Hebrew the word translated “backbiting” means concealment, as the word for “north“ means originally the hidden quarter. The sense probably is that as the north wind dispels rain, so a tongue of self-restraint does an angry countenance. This would be true to life and the climate, and in harmony with the context. The north wind deposits its moisture on the Taurus and Lebanon mountains, but brings with it the impurities it has contracted in its passage over towns and malarial districts. It is a cool current of air when it enters Syria, intermittent and gusty in its action. It is local in its area, being chiefly confined to the sea-side plain and nearer slopes; inland it either dies away in scorching heat or passes into a strong east wind. It is probably owing to these impurities and the unusual combination of cold wind and blazing sunshine that it generally causes headache and neuralgia, and sometimes blights delicate vegetation like a sea-fog. It is called by the Arabs the poison-wind (from samm, poison; hence simoom). Travelers, muleteers, and farmers always rely upon fair weather while it lasts. The east wind is the usual breeze by night, and as such is cool and dry; but when it prevails also during the day, or for several days at a time, it becomes exceedingly hot and oppressive, especially when the direction is south-east. It then carries fine sand-dust, giving the sky the appearance of burnished metal, the sky of brass in Deuteronomy 28:23, and sometimes covering it with dull gray clouds (Isaiah 25:5, Jude 1:12). The heat increases with the elevation, as in the gallery of a crowded theatre or church, — a temperature of 85° in the shade at the sea-side rising to 97° on the Lebanon. On account of its extreme dryness and its being almost as hot during the night as in the day-time, it is very trying to both animal and vegetable life. The thin ears of corn in Pharaoh’s dream appeared blasted by it (Genesis 41:6). The word sirocco (s = sh) preserves the Arabic origin from shirk, east, as also appears in the word Saracens — the people of the East. Fortunately this wind seldom lasts long, and its brief visits are usually welcomed in spring, as it causes a rapid advance of vegetation while the- ground is still moist, and also in autumn when growth has ceased, and hot weather is needed to dry the fruits for winter preservation before the long summer comes to an end with “the early rain.” The south wind indicates heat (Luke 12:55), dry if south-east, and soft and relaxing if south-west. It is more uniform in its action, and less characterized by sudden onslaught and hurricane blasts than the northwest and east winds. The west wind is especially dreaded on the-Sea of Galilee, often descending suddenly and with the power of a gale, and preventing boats from getting back to the western shore of the lake. The ordinary action of the wind is to blow from the west in the forenoon, northerly in the afternoon, east in the night, working round by south and returning to the west in the morning, after the sun has been shining for several hours upon the land. This uniformity of the wind was one of the labored vanities (Ecclesiastes 1:6) of the jaded spirit seeking independent pleasure in creation instead of in the service of God (Ecclesiastes 12:13). The red sunset (Matthew 16:2) indicates the presence of east wind, and is a sign that a season of warm weather may be expected. The rainfall for the year is about thirty-five inches. The showers are usually much heavier than those in northern countries. In spring and autumn waterspouts are frequently seen over the sea, and sometimes burst on the land, causing much damage to property. As the rain gauge sometimes records four or five inches to the hour, one can understand what must be the nature of the “ overflowing shower” (Ezekiel 13:11) which causes the walls of gardens to bulge and fall (Psalms 62:3), sweeps away stables, affects the foundations of dwelling-houses (Luke 6:48-49), and, by the sudden swelling of streams, endangers the lives of men and cattle (Psalms 18:16; Psalms 90:5; Isaiah 28:2; Isaiah 59:19). But usually the rain is a shower of blessing and in season (2 Samuel 23:4; Psalms 72:6; Ezek. 34:36). In the rainless summer the evaporation blown in from the sea during the day settles during the still, cool night in refreshing dew upon the vineyards, fig-trees, olive-trees, and all vegetation, and makes the morning cloud, which lies like a white veil in the valleys for an hour or two after sunrise. In this land of sunshine so great is the appreciation of moisture in all its forms, that the tenet of ancient philosophy, preserved in the Koran, is still sometimes seen in ornamental relief over city fountains: “ From water We have made all things live.”
Such are some of the natural conditions by which life in Palestine is affected.
[1] Wordsworth’s “ Teaching of Nature.’
