Psalm 128: an unfinished journey to rooted stability

A Palestinian boy pulls tree branches in the southern Gaza Strip, December 2, 2023.
(Photo by Ahmed Zakot / SOPA Images/Sipa USA via AP Images)

1 Blessed is every one who fears the Lord,

Who walks in His ways.

2 When you eat the labour of your hands,

You shall be happy, and it shall be well with you.

3 Your wife shall be like a fruitful vine

In the very heart of your house,

Your children like olive plants

All around your table.

4 Behold, thus shall the man be blessed

Who fears the Lord.

5 The Lord bless you out of Zion,

And may you see the good of Jerusalem

All the days of your life.

6 Yes, may you see your children’s children.

Peace be upon Israel!

The psalm, if you like, is an attempt to describe the shape of blessing.  Blessing here is not a private windfall or a lucky break, it’s a way of walking — a life oriented toward God’s ways.

The psalmist begins with the image of a pilgrim

whose daily steps are shaped by reverence for God,

not fear as in dread,

but a deep awareness of God’s presence and call.

The "fear of the Lord" is living in a way that honours God because of love, respect, and recognition of who God is - what Proverbs 1:7 describes as "the beginning of all knowledge."

Happiness here is earthy and tangible:

the satisfaction of honest work,

bread on the table,

the sense that life is fitting together as it should.

This is not prosperity as excess,

but contentment rooted in enough.

The household scene is lush with imagery:

a vine, fruitful and steady,

its roots deep in the heart of the home;

olive shoots — tender yet resilient —

growing around the family table.

In an arid land, vines and olives mean stability.

Vines and olives are long-term, slow-growing, and deeply rooted plants — the opposite of quick, shallow, or temporary things.  

They take years to mature.  Grapevines take several years to bear a decent harvest.  Olive trees take even longer — sometimes a decade before producing fully.

You don’t plant them unless you expect to stay in the same place for a long time. Planting them is a statement of trust in the future.

They live for generations.  Olive trees can live for hundreds, even thousands, of years; there are ancient olives in the eastern Mediterranean that predate the time of Christ.  Well-cared-for vines can keep producing for decades.  That longevity made them symbols of enduring blessing, continuity, and rootedness.

They require consistent care.  You can’t ignore vines or olives and expect a good yield — they need pruning, tending, watering, and protection from pests.  In the psalm, that ongoing care mirrors the nurturing of a household or community over time.

Micah 4:4 paints peace like this:

“Everyone shall sit under their own vine and under their own fig tree, and no one shall make them afraid.”  - you can only sit under a vine or olive tree if you’ve been safe enough for it to grow to maturity.

They are both fruitful and valuable.  Grapes become wine — central to celebration, hospitality, and worship.  Olives produce oil — essential for cooking, lighting, anointing, and trade.

They weren’t luxuries but core parts of daily life and worship, so a flourishing vine or olive was a sign of well-being.

They are signs of peace and security.  In times of war or upheaval, perennial crops like vines and olives were often destroyed first to cripple an enemy’s food and economy.

Since 1967 over 800,000 Palestinian olive trees have been uprooted, burned, or otherwise destroyed by Israeli authorities and settlers.  In some reports, this number is even cited as exceeding 1 million.  In just two months, October-November 2024, over 2,800 olive trees and saplings were burnt, cut, or vandalised across multiple communities.

To uproot olive trees is to say you have no stable, long-term future here.  Destroying olive trees isn’t just removing plants; it’s uprooting stability, dignity, and future hope — the very things Psalm 128 holds up as the fruit of walking in God’s ways. It’s the inverse of the psalm’s blessing: a deliberate act of instability, insecurity, and loss.

For those praying the Psalms of Ascent today, this is a reminder that “peace upon Israel” (v. 6) can’t be detached from justice for all who live in the land. True blessing is never one-sided — the biblical picture of vines and olives flourishes only when neighbours live in security together.

The Psalm continues...  and the blessing spills beyond the household:

out of Zion,

into the good of the city,

towards peace for the whole community.

This psalm refuses to imagine blessing

as something hoarded within four walls;

or on only one side of a "security" wall;

it is shared, public, and part of the common good.

For the pilgrim on the road —

and for all of us still on unfinished journeys —

blessing is not the end of the road,

but the way we walk it:

with reverence,

with generosity,

with eyes lifted to the good of all.

A prayer:

God who creates and builds;

who fashions and shapes;

who plants and nourishes —

teach us to walk in Your ways with joy.

Let our work bear fruit enough for all,

our homes be places of rooted love,

and our lives channels of blessing

that flow into the streets of our world.

May we live to see the fruit of peace,

and rejoice in the generations to come.

Amen.