Midrash Tehillim, a collection of rabbinic interpretations on the Book of Psalms, offers a surprising answer, linking peace to…mountains. Yes, mountains!

"Let the mountains bring peace to the people, and the hills bring righteousness," it says, quoting Psalm 72. But wait a minute, do mountains actually bring peace?

The Midrash doesn't take things literally, of course. It dives deeper. It suggests that peace isn’t just a feeling; it's tied to our material reality, specifically, abundance. The text argues that scarcity breeds conflict. Imagine a time of famine. People are desperate. Resources are limited. Suddenly, that neighbor's vineyard looks a lot more tempting.

The Midrash illustrates this with a stark example: "When a person enters his friend's vineyard, he asks him, 'What are you doing in my vineyard?' and they argue with each other." – when resources are scarce, we become territorial, suspicious. We guard what little we have, leading to friction and ultimately, a lack of peace.

But flip the script. What happens when there’s plenty to go around?

"When there are many fruits," the Midrash continues, "there is goodwill in the world." Suddenly, that vineyard isn’t a source of anxiety, but a place of shared bounty. There’s enough for everyone. The Midrash then quotes Zechariah 3:10: "In that day, each of you will invite his neighbor to sit under his vine and fig tree."

Imagine that scene: neighbors sharing food, stories, and companionship. That's the picture of true peace – a peace born not from treaties or declarations alone, but from a sense of shared prosperity and abundance. It’s a powerful idea, isn’t it? That the physical world, the "mountains" and "hills," can actually contribute to our inner and collective peace.

The Midrash doesn’t stop there. It connects this idea of peace and righteousness with divine judgment. "Judgment shall be done with justice," it states. And then Rabbi Yose bar Tachlifa adds a rather sobering thought: "Every day a person is judged, as it says (Job 7:18), 'You examine him every morning.'"

Wow. Every. Single. Day.

This isn't about a final judgment in some distant future. It's about the constant, ongoing evaluation of our actions, our intentions. Are we contributing to a world of abundance and peace? Or are we perpetuating scarcity and conflict? It’s a daily reckoning.

So, what does this all mean for us today? Perhaps it's a call to cultivate generosity, to share what we have, and to work towards a world where everyone has enough. Maybe true peace isn't just a lofty ideal, but a tangible goal that starts with how we treat our neighbors, how we share our resources, and how we live each and every day. What kind of "fruits" are we cultivating in our own lives, and in the world around us? And are those fruits leading to conflict or to an invitation to sit together, in peace, under the vine?