Trees of the Desert: AR'AR & TAMARISK

We have two more trees of the desert to talk about.  Let's look at the Jeremiah passage we mentioned in the last post that referenced the acacia tree.

This is what the Lord says:

“Cursed is the one who trusts in man,
    who draws strength from mere flesh
    and whose heart turns away from the Lord.
That person will be like a bush in the wastelands;
    they will not see prosperity when it comes.
They will dwell in the parched places of the desert,
    in a salt land where no one lives.

“But blessed is the one who trusts in the Lord,
    whose confidence is in him.
They will be like a tree planted by the water
    that sends out its roots by the stream.
It does not fear when heat comes;
    its leaves are always green.
It has no worries in a year of drought
    and never fails to bear fruit.”

Jeremiah 17:5–8

The second part of that passage again mentions the acacia that we talked about in the last post.  You may notice how similar that image in verse 7 and 8 is to the first Psalm.  But the previous paragraph describes a new tree.

AR'AR
The tree mentioned in verse 5 and 6 is the ar'ar.  It is a stunning picture if you ever run into such a tree.  The tree is this lush and beautiful green bush that has huge, plump fruit on it.  The large green fruit is about the size of a grapefruit and looks like it will be full of sweet things.  And yet, when you take the fruit and break it open, it is completely empty — full of air.  The bedouins of the area claim that the “juice” excreted by the broken fruit is poisonous.

It is a striking image of the desert.  The man who trusts in flesh looks incredibly lush and fertile on the outside — but is full of death and emptiness on the inside.  And deserts have a way of bringing that out of a man.

There is a final tree that shows up in the desert.  It is an image that moves me to this day.

TAMARISK
The tamarisk tree is tall and beautiful.  Like the acacia, the tamarisk is a larger tree, but unlike the former, it does not grow on its own in the desert.  This desert tree requires some minor cultivation in order to survive.  The leaves of the tree absorb what little moisture is in the area and then give off the faintest glimmer of humidity in its shade.  The shade of a tamarisk tree is often 10–15 degrees cooler than the shade of other trees.

But this cultivated tree takes three generations to grow to its full size.  So it stands to reason that a person never plants a tamarisk tree for himself; he will never reap its benefits. A man plants a tamarisk tree for his grandchildren.

In the twenty-first chapter of Genesis, we read the following words:

After the treaty had been made at Beersheba, Abimelek and Phicol the commander of his forces returned to the land of the Philistines. Abraham planted a tamarisk tree in Beersheba, and there he called on the name of the Lord, the Eternal God. And Abraham stayed in the land of the Philistines for a long time.

That story always brings tears to my eyes.  After making a treaty with the Philistines, Abraham goes and plants a tamarisk tree.

It is a statement of faith; Abraham is trusting the story.

He's not planting the tamarisk for himself.  He is planting it for his grandchildren.  He is believing God's promise and staking a claim.


The rabbis ask a question: How many tamarisk trees did you plant today?

How many things did you do today that were for your grandchildren?  These are things that aren't for yourself — things that have eternal ripples. 

This idea pervades much of rabbinic teaching.  Another statement that is often made is that when people obey the mitzvoth (the commands), they are planting the seeds that will become the very trees of the restored Eden.

Your call is bigger than you.  The things you do today have the opportunity to ring throughout the generations.  The choices you make matter.  The story you choose to trust will affect those who stand on your shoulders.  Even in your deserts, you are planting seeds with your life.

How many tamarisk trees did you plant today?