Vine and Fig Tree

Micah 3:9-4:5

And every one neath their vine and fig tree
Shall live in peace and unafraid
And every one neath their vine and fig tree
Shall live in peace and unafraid

And into plowshares turn their swords
Nations shall learn war no more
And into plowshares turn their swords
Nations shall learn war no more

I learned this little Hebrew folk tune about 10 years ago, when I was part of a group of Christian Educators putting on a vacation Bible School called GIGL (Gathering In God's Love). We taught it to about 120 children and adults, together with the appropriate grapevine dance, and sang and danced it together in a darkening Presbyterian sanctuary on a hot August night.

There are at least four places in the Hebrew Scriptures where the phrase "under [his] vine and fig tree" is used to denote a place of safety, peace and plenty.

I want to say something profound about this, but mostly I feel a sense of weariness. This sense of safety is so elusive for everyone, no matter where they are. The truth is, as a US citizen living in a less densely populated area, I am probably as safe as anyone in the world can hope to be. Little likelihood of a terrorist attack. I have a warm home to retreat to on a cold October day, and a refrigerator and freezer filled with meat and vegetables and grains. I am not in danger (or so I imagine) of sudden assault or home invasion or cluster bombs exploding. Certainly, in comparison with a woman of Darfur, no question. I don't face rape and abuse when I go to the market (just temptation). Certainly, in comparison with an Israeli woman, no question. I don't face the possibility of suicide bombers along my commute. Certainly, in comparison with the homeless woman in the US, no question. I am safe.

I don't always feel safe. I didn't feel safe as a seminarian living half of each week in New Work City in the fall of 2001. I don't feel safe when I consider the antibiotics used to raise the chicken and beef I purchase and prepare for myself and my family. And I don't feel safe when I hear about random acts of violence perpetrated against good and peaceful people, either on a local level or in my name by my government. Yet, the truth is this. I am safe, By comparison with the vast majority of people who inhabit this planet, I am almost unimaginably privileged, and my safety is a part of that privilege.

My question to myself is this: how can I use my safety to help to bring safety to others? Is it possible for me to step out of my cosy home and life to bring the reality of the vine and fig tree to others who live at the knife's edge every day? Together with other safe people can we help the vine and fig tree to flourish in Baghdad and Kabul and Darfur and Laramie?