READINGS/ Ruth ch 1, and ch 2
Let’s pray: may the words of my mouth and the meditations of all our hearts, be acceptable in your sight, O Lord, our strength and our redeemer. Amen.
‘In the days when judges ruled…’
So begins the Book of Ruth.
Those days were long after the time
when Joshua, after the death of Moses, had led the Israelites from their wilderness wanderings and into the Promised Land.
A couple of generations had passed.
Those Israelites who now lived in the land, were people ‘who neither knew the Lord, or what he had done for Israel’ – this, according to the Book of Judges.
They’d forgotten their God,
they’d forgotten their story.
There was chaos, as other nations around them swept in and seemed near-impossible to resist.
The people of Israel cried out for rescue, and so, God raised up judges – champions –
to save them in their times of peril.
Often, after having saved the day, the judges were then largely ignored by the people,
who then went back to worshipping other gods and doing their own thing.
‘In the days, when judges ruled’,
there was chaos:
political instability.
Short times of peace were followed all to swiftly by raids and warfare.
They were dangerous times.
And, even in the event of a strong and good judge, who was able to keep the peace,
there was no real safety net when other events intervened:
what to do, for example, in the case of natural disaster?
And it’s this situation that we find at the outset of the Book of Ruth:
famine has hit the land,
and in the midst of this,
we suddenly find our attention drawn to one small family,
as they try to navigate their way out of potential, life-threatening disaster.
In the first five breathtakingly swift verses of this book, we watch as the family make the decision
to leave their homeland to try and make a new life for themselves in a strange land.
Essentially, we see a settled family, who, when faced with starvation,
decide that they have no other real choice other than to become refugees.
They head off to the land of Moab.
The risk, initially, seems to have been worth it:
they settle down and begin to make a life for themselves.
It’s a new start, with hope-filled hearts for a better future.
Those hopes are quickly dashed, however.
Disaster strikes once more:
Elimelech, the husband and father of the family, dies.
Naomi, his wife, finds herself widowed.
But, her two sons, Mahlon and Kilion, are of marriageable age:
they both marry, settle down, and presumably as dutiful sons, take care of their widowed mother.
Again, the family fortunes seem to be on the up and up as they look once more to the future.
Ten years pass and at some point, there’s a reversal of fortune with another disaster:
both sons die at around the same time.
We don’t know how –
raiders? war? Some kind of contagious disease?
And, this misfortune is compounded:
they leave no children to carry on the family name.
Within five verses, we've travelled with this family over the course of roughly ten years,
a family whose situation has changed dramatically:
from Naomi and the three men of the family,
we now have Naomi and her 2 daughters-in-law,
Orpah and Ruth – all three of them, widows.
And, to be a widow in such times, was to be utterly vulnerable.
In verse 6, we see that, at this time of crisis, another decision is made:
another journey is planned, as Naomi determines to return to her homeland, to Bethlehem, in Judah.
Keep a wee note of where she’s headed and tuck it away somewhere safe for next week…
it may be a small detail, but… I suspect, it’s probably important.
With all her hopes blighted, Naomi no longer looks to the future –
she hasn’t got one.
It’s the end of the genealogical line.
For Naomi, everything is now all about the pragmatic business of surviving in the present.
But her current reality doesn’t have to be shared by Orpah and Ruth –
they are still relatively young.
Perhaps if they stayed behind in Moab,
they might find a new future with a new husband:
perhaps, even start a family.
So, while Naomi is intent on going back to live once more among her own people,
her wish is that Orpah and Ruth live among their own people –
that is where their future lies.
When we get to the farewell, there’s a tearful scene,
but eventually, Orpah remains with her own people,
while Naomi returns to her people, accompanied by Ruth.
Loyal, steadfast, Ruth –
who loves and cares for her mother-in-law,
and who is determined to not only spend the rest of her life caring for her,
but, at the end of her life, to accompany Naomi even through the final barrier of death:
to be buried with her.
Ruth, faithful companion in both life and death.
She’s fascinating:
her devotion and selflessness is astonishing.
In her care of and for Naomi, she is prepared to forsake her national identity –
her heritage, her people;
she’s prepared to forsake her religious identity –
the gods she grew up with and who she served.
‘Your people will be my people; your God, will be my God,’ vows Ruth.
And so, out of love for her mother-in-law,
she strikes off into the great unknown,
to a land she’s never seen;
she leaves everyone, and everything that she’s ever known…
and, through her decision to be a part of Naomi’s future,
she creates the possibility of a new future for herself.
When the two women arrive, it’s initially the past, not the future, that Naomi is confronted with:
although she’s been away for such a lengthy period of time, she is still remembered.
‘Can this be Naomi?’ folk ask.
But the past is difficult place to inhabit:
Naomi, whose name means ‘sweet’, chooses a new name: ‘Mara.’
No longer ‘sweet’, but ‘bitter’.
She is all hollowed out with grief –
empty.
She feels that God has brought only misfortune her way.
That’s how it seems…
And then, as we read further, as Ruth and Naomi begin to settle into their
new lives in Bethlehem, at the time of the harvest, the wind of change is once again in the air:
this now-tiny family unit of two widows is about to see a turn-around.
Far from having no future, there’s the possibility of promise…
and it’s in large part down to Ruth’s character.
Heading out to the fields to gather the left-overs of the harvest –
the right and privilege of the most vulnerable in society, widows,
Ruth happens to find herself in the field of a kinsman – Boaz.
He’s been away on business.
When he returns, he notices her, however.
He decides to check out who she is, asking questions of his foreman.
Ruth’s made a very good impression:
she’s seen to be a hard worker.
Boaz decides to take her under his wing –
because, for a woman, it’s dangerous work out in the fields…
there’s always the danger of sexual attack by the field hands.
Boaz offers her protection.
He offers her advice on where to find the best place to collect the most grain.
He offers her easy access to water.
He offers her extra portions at meal time.
He offers her…kindness.
He does this to recognize her own kindness to his family – to Naomi, his kinswoman.
And central to the whole story of Ruth is one word ‘hesed’ –
the Hebrew word meaning:
‘loving-kindness’…
We see in Ruth’s story a classic case of ‘what goes around, comes around.’
But we see more than that:
we see, in Ruth herself, a mirror, showing God.
And when Ruth returns, and tells Naomi just how unexpectedly good her day was,
Naomi sees God in a completely different way:
this is not the God who disappoints, who makes life difficult…the God who disappears.
She’s allowed bitterness to cloud her judgement.
Now, in the loving-kindness shown by Boaz to Ruth,
loving-kindness offered as reward for Ruth’s own loving-kindness to Naomi…
Naomi’s taking another journey:
an interior journey as she moves from bitterness to sweetness once more.
As she makes that journey, she sees that far from being absent, God has always been with her;
she sees, in Ruth, a mirror of the loving-kindness of God –
who is faithful, steadfast, loyal…
a companion in the good, the bad, and the ugly that form part of the journey of life.
She sees the God who is with her in the bleak, and in the beautiful, and in the in-between…
the God whose loving-kindness is broader than previously imagined,
for this is the God who takes in Ruth:
a foreigner,
a stranger,
and shows his people – certainly Naomi, and Boaz, and the villagers of Bethlehem –
that he will ‘not stop showing his kindness to the living and the dead.’
And this…
is the God who even now, calls us, gathers us together here,
the God who we worship,
and who continues to offer to us his loving-kindness…
who, in Jesus, offers us hope,
and the promise of new life,
a new future,
as we walk with him…
as he always does, with us. Amen
We'll pick up part two of Ruth's story next week.
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