Wherever You Go
Sunday, November 1
Thirty-first Sunday in Ordinary Time
Wherever You Go
Beloved Companion, you deal with us kindly in steadfast love, lifting up those bent low with care and sustaining the weak and oppressed. Release us from our anxious fears, that we, holding fast to your commandments, may honor you with all we that we are and all that we have. Amen.
In the days when the judges ruled, there was a famine in the land, and a certain man of Bethlehem in Judah went to live in the country of Moab, he and his wife and two sons. The name of the man was Elimelech and the name of his wife Naomi, and the names of his two sons were Mahlon and Chilion; they were Ephrathites from Bethlehem in Judah. They went into the country of Moab and remained there. But Elimelech, the husband of Naomi, died, and she was left with her two sons. These took Moabite wives; the name of the one was Orpah and the name of the other Ruth. When they had lived there about ten years, both Mahlon and Chilion also died, so that the woman was left without her two sons and her husband.
Then she started to return with her daughters-in-law from the country of Moab, for she had heard in the country of Moab that the Lord had considered his people and given them food. So she set out from the place where she had been living, she and her two daughters-in-law, and they went on their way to go back to the land of Judah. But Naomi said to her two daughters-in-law, “Go back each of you to your mother’s house. May the Lord deal kindly with you, as you have dealt with the dead and with me. The Lord grant that you may find security, each of you in the house of your husband.” Then she kissed them, and they wept aloud. They said to her, “No, we will return with you to your people.” But Naomi said, “Turn back, my daughters, why will you go with me? Do I still have sons in my womb that they may become your husbands? Turn back, my daughters, go your way, for I am too old to have a husband. Even if I thought there was hope for me, even if I should have a husband tonight and bear sons, would you then wait until they were grown? Would you then refrain from marrying? No, my daughters, it has been far more bitter for me than for you, because the hand of the Lord has turned against me.” Then they wept aloud again. Orpah kissed her mother-in-law, but Ruth clung to her.
So she said, “See, your sister-in-law has gone back to her people and to her gods; return after your sister-in-law.” But Ruth said,
“Do not press me to leave you
or to turn back from following you!
Where you go, I will go;
where you lodge, I will lodge;
your people shall be my people,
and your God my God.
Where you die, I will die—
there will I be buried.
May the Lord do thus and so to me,
and more as well,
if even death parts me from you!”
When Naomi saw that she was determined to go with her, she said no more to her.
All readings for this Sunday
1. How does this ancient story of Ruth enrich your appreciation for the times when our church has stood with the widow, the orphan, and the stranger in our midst?
2. How is your church striving to keep promises purely out of love and faithfulness, in spite of societal pressure and conventional wisdom about a safer, more reasonable course?
3. How does this text shine a light on the edges of our communities, and what, or whom, does it illuminate there?
4. What sort of faith do you think Ruth had? What do you think was her image of God?
5. Why does Ruth’s place in history as an ancestor of David matter?
Reflection by Kate Matthews (Huey)
Like the Book of Job, the story of Ruth really needs to be read from beginning to end in order to understand even these beginning verses, so familiar to just about anyone who has ever attended a wedding. Fortunately, the Book of Ruth is much shorter than the Book of Job, about the length of a modern short story, and its meaning for us today lies between the lines rather than in its probable meaning for a culture long ago and far away from our own. Of course, the meaning “between the lines” is there in every age, as God speaks to us in marvelous and mysterious ways, right here in the midst of our own purposes and our own life stories.
The narrative as a whole explains, and perhaps justifies, the ancient practice of levirate law, in which the nearest male relative of a dead husband was required to marry (and therefore protect and provide for) his relative’s widow. However, it might also represent a response and a critique of the exilic laws that forbade Israelite men from marrying foreign women. According to David Watson, we find in Ezra 9-10 purity prohibitions against such marriages, in fact, foreign women and children, who were considered “unclean,” weren’t even permitted to live in the midst of the people of Israel. One thinks, of course, of how often religious laws are used in every time, including our own, to define some of God’s children as “unclean” or “unacceptable.” However, Watson suggests that the lovely story of Ruth, set in a time of violence and lawlessness, is more “welcoming” of foreigners, and emphasizes faithfulness rather than purity as what matters most. What great counterpoint to such a law, right within the canon itself, for Ruth is nothing less than heroic in her actions and her fierce determination. How could anyone object to a marriage to a woman of such exemplary faithfulness and profound goodness?
Between the lines, and in a powerfully moving way, the narrator of the book of Ruth tells a story with great artistry and deep feeling. The characters that really matter, even more than the powerful Boaz (who would typically be the hero of the piece), are those most on the margins, the least powerful, those with the fewest resources except for their wits, their determination, their faithfulness to each other. Perhaps in every age a foreigner is seen as a threat or a problem; perhaps in every age some people think they need to “protect” themselves from “the other” (just think of our current controversies over issues related to immigrants, migrants, and refugees, especially – but not only – from Syria, Mexico and Central America); certainly, in every age there are those who have to glean from the edges of the excess (or leftovers) of others just so that they can survive from one day to the next. Perhaps in every age and every culture, and too easily forgotten in an age when a few (just a few) women have reached high places of power and authority, women still suffer from sexism and even misogyny embedded in patriarchal institutions and traditions that render them voiceless and powerless, and yet still they survive and thrive and look after one another and their young.
The system doesn’t always work
In such a patriarchal society, Naomi, Orpah, and Ruth are nobodies once their husbands die. The system collapses for them, and they have to resort to last resorts, that is, the young women should return to living with their parents; the text curiously refers to the houses of their mothers, so they may be fatherless as well. Unfortunately, their worth on the marriage market is now compromised, and the old woman, Naomi, the “bitter” one, can only return to her people, it seems, to live out her days without the promise of anything new, without the prospect of delight once again in her life. In fact, it appears that her life is over because her husband’s life is over.
At this moment, Naomi thinks first of the welfare of the two younger women traveling with her, leaving their homeland behind them and hoping that somehow Bethlehem, “the house of bread,” will be a place to find nourishment and safety and a new life. Naomi assesses the situation, makes a decision not in her own best interest, and tries to send them back home. She does this with a word of blessing, which is in itself a kind of theological statement: John Hamlin observes that Naomi’s blessing suggests that “the Narrator” of this story believes that “the circle of Yahweh’s steadfast love is as wide as the earth and is present among all peoples.” Naomi’s God is an inclusive, expansive God, even in the midst of suffering and want, even when Naomi feels that God has abandoned her (1:13).
A story of tears and doing the reasonable thing
We may know the story of Orpah’s tears and her turning back home. No one can blame her, of course, because she’s doing the reasonable and rational thing for someone on the edge of survival. However, we are more likely to know the story of Ruth’s incomprehensible and stunning declaration of a covenant commitment that puts many marriages, both contemporary and historical, to shame: she promises lifelong faithfulness, support and care to this bitter old woman, not even her own kin, a foreigner to her and her people. The family of Naomi is in a distant land because they were driven there to survive a famine: need and desperation drove them to be aliens in a strange land. Now, in turn, Ruth puts herself second to the needs of this other woman, and promises to make a life with her in a land foreign to her but holding the promises of a God she does not know. “Your God will be my God,” she says, and what a response from God, who makes her the foremother of David, the ancestor of Jesus, and, in faith, of each of us!
Ruth is like Abraham and Sarah
Here we might make an interesting comparison of Ruth to Abraham and Sarah, the patriarch and matriarch who left their homeland and all that was familiar, trusting in the promises of God and becoming the ancestors of a great people they would never see, descendants as numerous as the stars in the sky. Of course, Ruth didn’t have the advantage of a direct conversation with God, but then a call from God can come in many different ways. Like Abraham and Sarah, Ruth takes that uncertain journey into the unknown and the unfamiliar, trusting in God, and in doing so, she becomes an important part of the story of the people she embraces as her own. Surely she never imagined such a thing! Lawrence Farris observes that “Abraham became the father of a nation, [but] Ruth will be the mother of its line of kings.”
I’ve sometimes wondered what inspired such loyalty in Ruth toward Naomi, whose best side is perhaps not visible by the time we meet her. We might imagine what their relationship back in Moab, as mother-in-law and daughter-in-law, might have been; perhaps Naomi had been particularly kind and even motherly to Ruth and Orpah. In any case, Farris suggests that Naomi had a kind of faith that inspired Ruth, a stubborn (even though it sounds more like resigned) faith that led Ruth to her own new life, in a new place, with a new people.
The image of God in unexpected people
This simple yet beautiful story leads us to deeper and timely reflection on the experience of refugees and immigrants, and on the pressing need for survival that impels them to leave home. It may also suggest, as feminist theologians have observed, that God often chooses the most unexpected places and times to let one of us “clay pots” reveal the treasure within, the image of God, in which we were created: who would expect that a woman of a historic faith, one of God’s own people, might encounter the image of God in the unconditional, faithful love of a pagan widow, a foreigner on a lonely and perilous road in a place far from home?
Another approach to the text might be a reflection on the covenant commitment of marriage, since so many weddings incorporate this reading because of its beautiful pledge of faithfulness: on a dusty road on the way to Bethlehem, a young pagan woman, utterly low in the social class structure, powerless and yet remembered even today for her fierce loyalty and her tenderness of heart, makes promises that couples today so easily repeat and then find so hard to fulfill. That these promises were made by one woman to another woman is rarely acknowledged. It makes us think twice about the beauty of families of all kinds, and the promises that hold them together, no matter what.
Risking the new and the different
Gary Charles reminds us that Ruth faces formidable challenges and tremendous risk in continuing this journey to a place where everything would be different, from food and language to religious and social practices, and her unfamiliarity with all of these things would mark her as an outsider, much as we might recognize someone as “from somewhere else” by their accent. Ruth was definitely leaving her comfort zone behind. Remember that the people of Israel were forbidden from dealing with the Moabites in any positive way (even though Moses himself was buried in Moab): Deuteronomy 23:6 warns Naomi’s people, “You shall never promote their welfare or their prosperity as long as you live.” In Images of Faith: Spirituality of Women in the Old Testament, Judette Gallares provides this translation of that text: “You shall never share your prosperity or happiness with these peoples.” What great irony and deep poignancy, then, that Ruth is willing to share Naomi’s desperate poverty and uncertain future, at a time when prosperity and happiness seem a distant memory for them both.
God is certainly at work here, in subtle but powerful ways, even if seas do not part and manna does not fall from the sky. Farris sees God’s own faithfulness in Ruth’s faithfulness, and God’s lovingkindness embodied in the tender and faithful care Ruth offers Naomi; hesed, or lovingkindness, is at the heart of this story just as it is at the heart of God’s covenant with the people, and at the heart of discipleship today. Farris then recalls the question Jesus was asked by his disciples in the Gospel of John: “Lord, to whom shall we go?” (6:68). Ruth and Israel, he writes, “cling” to God and refuse to “turn aside,” to go to someone else, to other options, even if these make more sense in the eyes of the world. And Gary Charles connects this kind of faithfulness with another Gospel text, when Jesus asks his disciples “to cling to him” rather than the things and beliefs that they hold dear. In a world and a church that are both deeply, lamentably “polarized,” Charles writes, we can learn some important lessons from this foreigner, this outsider, this lowly widow, about reaching beyond our own protective walls and opening ourselves to unexpected and new life.
A time for re-commitment to the covenant
Dale Andrews reminds us that Orpah makes a reasonable decision in returning home, not an unloving or cowardly or selfish one, but Ruth offers Naomi “the extra measure” of love and fidelity. We might say that she goes “the extra mile.” This is a beautiful theme for the time of year when many churches ask their members and friends to re-commit to the mission of God as it is lived out in their congregation and in the wider church as well. In fact, our pledge of time, talent, and treasure in the coming year is a renewal of covenant promises like the renewal of marriage vows. Out of love and commitment, we look back in love and gratitude, and then look forward in love and hope, even in the face of uncertain and challenging circumstances, and re-state our promise of faithfulness to the covenant we share in the church. We can join Ruth and Naomi on the road, during a difficult economic time ourselves, and offer the gift of ourselves in return for the many gifts God has given us. (Perhaps it’s no wonder that our giving beyond the basic pledge is called “second-mile giving.”)
June Jordan has written a lovely essay on this exquisitely beautiful text, “Ruth and Naomi, David and Jonathan: One Love,” in Woman Writers on the Bible. Her reflection comes from her experience of the love and care provided by her friends during her fight against breast cancer. She recognizes the difficult and courageous decisions made by Ruth and Naomi, two women who have far less power and place than David and Jonathan (although she recognizes the beauty of the love of these two friends, too). Naomi and Ruth, she writes, “could not ride horses into battle and slay the sources of their grief or slay the enemies of their joy.” They were poor women, not princes, but their love was every bit “the equal” of those two more famous and more powerful men. We don’t remember Ruth for her political greatness but for being the mother of the grandfather of King David himself. We also remember her, Jordan writes, for the kind of love she showed Naomi, “a love that takes you to its bosom and that saves your life.” No wonder, then, that Ruth’s name means “Beloved.”
A preaching version of this commentary (with book titles) can be found at www.ucc.org/worship/samuel.
The Rev. Kathryn Matthews (Huey) serves as dean of Amistad Chapel at the national offices of the United Church of Christ in Cleveland, Ohio (https://www.facebook.com/AmistadChapel).
You’re invited to share your reflections on this text on our Facebook page: https://www.facebook.com/SermonSeeds.
For further reflection
Unknown, perhaps Johann Wolfgang von Goethe, 18th century
“If all my friends were to jump off a bridge, I wouldn’t follow. I’d be at the bottom to catch them when they fall.”
Mother Teresa, 20th century
“Spread love everywhere you go: First of all in your own house…let no one ever come to you without leaving better and happier. Be the living expression of God’s kindness; kindness in your face, kindness in your eyes, kindness in your smile, kindness.”
J.R.R. Tolkien, The Fellowship of the Ring, 20th century
“You can trust us to stick to you through thick and thin–-to the bitter end. And you can trust us to keep any secret of yours–-closer than you yourself keep it. But you cannot trust us to let you face trouble alone, and go off without a word. We are your friends, Frodo. Anyway: there it is.”
Confucius, 6th century B.C.E.
“Hold faithfulness and sincerity as first principles.”
Paul Carvel, 20th century
“Faithfulness lives where love is stronger than instinct.”
Terry Tempest Williams, When Women Were Birds: Fifty-four Variations on Voice, 21st century
“The book of Ruth honors the loyal bonds between women. To care for one another reaps the harvest of love. Ruth’s empathy and toil gives birth to authentic power.”
Dr. Seuss, Horton Hatches the Egg
“I meant what I said and I said what I meant.”
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