This
week, as I read and re-read this introduction to the familiar story of Ruth and
Naomi, different pictures came to my mind. A silhouette of
Naomi—her head bowed, tears streaming down her face, her body bent over,
burdened by grief. A close-up Naomi—her
teeth clenched, jaws locked, lips pursed, eyes narrowed, face closed—a close-up reflecting her
bitterness.
Life
has not been fair to Naomi. All
those many years ago, when she said, “I do” she had envisioned growing old with
Elimelech—shouting at one another “What’s that? What’d you say?” and rubbing
liniment on each other’s aching joints.
Life has not been fair to Naomi.
When she first held her infant sons, she had dreamed of cradling their
children, too. But there are no
grandchildren. Her heart is
empty.
Once
bent over, she stands up now—she thinks she stands alone. She is not completely without hope,
though. The economy is improving
back in Bethlehem. She will return,
to old friends, to what might be left of an emotional support network. She will return home. Maybe, just maybe, something
good will happen.
Naomi’s
story is our story—a story of loss.
Loss that plants seeds of fear and doubt; loss which sprouts bent-over
seedlings burdened with grief; loss laden with leaves of bitterness. Naomi concludes life has not been
fair. Don’t we do that, too,
sometimes? We lose the contest—coming in 2nd or 3rd or 4th
place; we lose the playoff game; we don’t get our way in an argument;
another actor gets the part we auditioned for; a colleague gets the promotion
we applied for. “Life is not fair,”
we muse. Naomi’s story is our
story—a story of loss—loss of home or job or family or friends, loss of
security. Naomi blames God for her loss.
“God has dealt me a hard blow.”[1]
Don’t we do that, too, sometimes? Asking
“God, why have you done this?” or “Why me, God?” Naomi’s story is our story. Loss plants seeds of fear and doubt. Loss burdens us with grief. Loss leaves us bitter. And like Naomi, we cry out.
But
Naomi is not alone and neither are we.
Ruth responds to Naomi’s doubt and fear, to her grief and bitterness. Ruth responds verbally “Don't force me to leave you; don't make
me go home. Where you go, I go; and where you live, I'll live. Your people are
my people, your God is my god; where you die, I'll die, and that's where I'll
be buried.”[2]
In a culture where vows were rock-solid, Ruth responds with
this oath. “So help me
God - not even death itself is going to come between us!"[3]
Ruth responds physically by holding onto by clinging to Naomi. Clinging—the
Hebrew word used here connotes God’s clinging to the people of Israel. This clinging is God’s faithfulness—God’s
faithfulness that led the Hebrew slaves out of Egypt and transformed them into God’s
treasured peoples; God’s faithfulness that brought them to the land flowing
with milk and honey, the land God had promised their ancestor Abraham hundreds
of years before.
If
Naomi’s story is our story, then Ruth’s story is God’s story. Naomi refers to the love her
daughters-in-law have shown her and her sons, saying “may God treat you as graciously as you
treated”[4]
us. Graciously, kindly,
faithfully—none of these translations alone and all of them together still don’t
convey what hesed, the Hebrew word
used here means. In the Hebrew Bible, “hesed is considered an essential
part of the nature of God and is frequently used to convey God’s acts of
unmerited grace and mercy.”[5]
Humans can show hesed, and when they “do or show hesed they are demonstrating lovingkindness
and loyalty that extends far beyond what the law requires, beyond anything the
recipient expects or deserves to receive.”[6] Ruth offers hesed; Ruth offers devoted love and kindness to Naomi; Ruth is God’s agent of grace and mercy.
At
times in our lives, we are Naomi; and God is with us, clinging to us. At times in our lives, we are Ruth; and
God calls us to be with others—to cling to them. In today’s text, Ruth is not a fixer. She does not name a problem then offer
the solution. Instead Ruth is an accompanier. She sees Naomi’s pain. She attends to her fragile state of
mind and her hurting heart. She
speaks then acts on her oath of dedication; she clings to Naomi. Ruth is an accompanier. She walks alongside of Naomi—journeying
with her through her loss, standing beside her in her bitterness, holding her
hand in her grief, walking with her in hope towards the promise of re-newed
life.
This
story is our story, and it is God’s story. This story reminds us that we are not alone. Like Ruth with Naomi, God accompanies
us. God clings to us throughout
our life’s journey. God clings to
us in our joy—celebrating life, success, happiness, family, friends, and
community—celebrating with us. And
God is with us in our loss—lifting us up in our sorrow. God clings to us in our loss—withstanding
our onslaught of bitter verbal assaults.
God is with us—never leaving us, even though we may not realize God’s
presence. We know a name that
reminds us of God’s presence—Emmanuel.
Emmanuel—God with us—God was
with us in the chaos from which he created all that there is. God was with us, pursuing us with love
before we were even a gleam in God’s eye. Emmanuel—God
with us—God is with us in the person of Jesus the Christ.
And
because of his life, death, and resurrection, not even death will separate us
from God’s love. Emmanuel—God with us—God is with us in
the power of the Holy Spirit, blowing through the church and sending it—sending
us—forth to do God’s good work in this, God’s good world. Emmanuel—God
with us—God is with us in the people of God that we know as family, friends,
and fellow Christians.
Reflecting
on this story—Naomi and Ruth’s story, ours and God’s story—a picture comes to
my mind—a picture painted with the deep hues of God’s sovereignty, a picture
painted with the warm shades of God’s love, a picture painted with the earthy
tones of God’s creation, a picture painted with the bright colors of God’s hope
for our future.
Reflecting
on this story—ours and God’s story—a picture comes to my mind—
a
picture of loving community, a picture of seeking out and welcoming in, a
picture of energy and action, a picture of working for God’s justice and offering
Gods’ grace.
As
I reflect on this story—ours and God’s story, a picture comes to my mind—a picture
of our shared story—of our evolving journey of faith in action—of our
transformation into Jesus’ disciples.
[1] Ruth 1: 13 (The Message)
[2] Ruth 1: 16 – 17 (The Message)
[3] Ruth 1: 17 (The Message)
[4] Ruth 1: 8 (The Message)
[5] Kathleen A. Robertson Farmer. “The Book of Ruth: Introduction, Commentary, and
Reflections,” in The New Interpreter’s Bible: a Commentary in Twelve Volumes. Vol. II. Nashville: Abingdon Press, 1998, p. 904.
[6] Kathleen A. Robertson Farmer. “The Book of Ruth: Introduction, Commentary, and
Reflections,” in The New Interpreter’s Bible: a Commentary in Twelve Volumes. Vol. II. Nashville: Abingdon Press, 1998, p. 904.
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