Readings: Ruth 1:3-10; “The Journey” by Mary Oliver
When the road runs out … when the signposts end … we’ve all been there, haven’t we, one time or another – on the very edge of life, with shrivelled options, looking down into a gaping chasm of emptiness, considering the deathly option as our only alternative; desperate for hope and yet, struggling to find any reason to keep going.
The Book of Ruth, poised as it is within the Christian Bible, immediately after the appalling violence against women found in the book of Judges, encourages our vulnerable selves into conversation. This “deceptively simple narrative” of “a poor, widowed foreigner” who “becomes the wife of a respected man from Bethlehem and the great-grand-mother of King David”[1]
has been read and interpreted in many different ways. Today Sandra and I invite it into conversation with all of us, who stand at the edges of life, wondering whether we can make life-giving sense out of our precipice-poised death-dealing experiences.
The stories found in this little book – stories of Ruth, Orpah and Naomi invite us to consider how new possibilities can emerge out of difficult and restrictive life-choices. Decisions, which in the circumstances we might denigrate as only ‘good enough’, can be just that – good enough to be redemptive and transformative.
So, first….My name is Ruth and this is the story told of me
But Naomi said [to us], ‘Turn back, my daughters, why will you go with me? Do I still have sons in my womb that they may become your husbands? …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. [Ruth 1: 11, 13b-14]
This is how I tell it: I’d gone into marriage without thinking. My parents had pointed out the dangers of marrying a refugee, a foreigner. Of course, for my father, it was a business contract - bringing him significant advantage but, even he, recognized the risks. “When life gets better, when the famine disappears, they'll return to their people, their homeland”, my father warned. “You could lose everything you’ve ever known.” But, I was excited. Mahlon’s foreignness intrigued me. He opened up the possibility there was more to life than I had ever considered. But, my mother, well, although she knew her opinion counted for nothing, she was worried. She knew the insecurity of my future. “You'll end up in a place you don't know, with people you can’t trust. All those foreign influences - their foreign god - it won't do you any good”, she predicted. But, as a woman, did I really have a choice?
And yet, it seemed like a great adventure. I was young. I quite liked being with foreigners; the differences were stimulating and Mahlon was a good husband - good and kind. But, in ten short years, all those dreams and delights were shattered. First, my brother-in-law, then my husband died. We'd been a rich well-resourced family and now, all that was left were we three women - no men to give us legitimacy, security or children. The opportunities which had seemed limitless, were now almost non existent; the obstacles huge. Naomi didn’t have a choice – she had to go back - back to Judah, to Bethlehem, where, hopefully, she’d find some kinsman who would provide her with a home and a measure of security. The outlook was pretty bleak for her.
And Orpah’s and my options weren’t much better. What was I thinking of? I must have been out of my mind. ‘Wherever you go, I will go....’
Naomi knew there were no opportunities for us if we stayed with her. And, she certainly gave us the impression that she didn’t want us to join her. I think it was Orpah who first put the idea in my head. “Go back to your mothers’ house”, Naomi pleaded with us. She had enough problems, without having to find ways to keep us. “Go, find a new husband - that's your only option - take it, while you are still young” she urged.
I think I was ready to go when Orpah said ‘no, we will return with you to your people’. I know she's didn't really mean it - her parents were already lining up an older man, who could provide her with a home and heir. But as I added my voice to Orpah’s, the thought came upon me, for the first time, that this was a realistic option. What would happen, if I went with Naomi? What did I have to lose? Did I have the courage to take another risk – to cross another boundary – to embrace a new people, a new way of life?
I've often wondered about that moment. When Orpah opened that door for me, she'd already closed it for herself. What made me step through? Some might read my story in later times and think of me as the self-sacrificing one - giving up on my opportunities, committing myself to my mother-in-law’s patriarchal view. But I prefer to think of myself as making a very proactive choice even within the very limited opportunities before me. I was willing to move into the unknown and take my chances. There was no hope in going backwards.
My name is Naomi. All that happened a long time back. I am an old woman now and this is my story.
It is a hard thing to lose ones children; my two sons, and then my husband all in a small space of time.
I hardly knew how to keep going. My grief reached into the marrow of my bones. All I knew was to return home, back to where I came from. My sons’ wives, my two new daughters were with me as we set out for Israel. Quite soon I questioned the wisdom of them making this journey and beseeched them to return to their families. My mind was not as steady as it usually was – I had asked them to come and then I was asking them to return to their homes.
Grief does that.
Orpah did go back but Ruth was adamant at continuing on. We soon became a team relying on each other. Two women travelling alone was not easy and having her along helped me a lot.
This is the story that is written of me in the book named after Ruth.
“When Naomi saw that [Ruth] was determined to go with her, she said no more to her.
So the two of them went on until they came to Bethlehem. When they came to Bethlehem, the whole town was stirred because of them; and the women said, ‘Is this Naomi?’ She said to them,
‘Call me no longer Naomi,
call me Mara,
for the Almighty has dealt bitterly with me.
I went away full,
but the Lord has brought me back empty;
why call me Naomi
when the Lord has dealt harshly with me,
and the Almighty has brought calamity upon me?’ (Ruth 1:18-21)
‘Call me no longer Naomi,
call me Mara,
for the Almighty has dealt bitterly with me.
I went away full,
but the Lord has brought me back empty;
why call me Naomi
when the Lord has dealt harshly with me,
and the Almighty has brought calamity upon me?’ (Ruth 1:18-21)
This is how I tell it.
When we eventually arrived I was surprised that I was immediately recognized. People called out to me by name. But what they saw was the woman they once knew. I was no longer that person. The lightness and joy I once knew had drained out leaving me full of bitterness and grief. I know this about myself. I know I was no longer an easy person to be with. I was battered by the events in my life and I could hardly seem to shift from what had happened. It was a shock to me to know myself in this way – that I was a bitter woman.
Ruth was industrious and without her we would have perished. We were a team. There wasn’t much I could do but I did know some things. There were some ways that I could still be of some worth. I advised her where to go and who to trust.
Boaz came into our life. He had always been a good man and I thought we could trust him to help us. I’m not sure now whether what I did next I would do again but history cannot be re written. I did what I did and I must own my actions.
I asked Ruth, my own daughter, my dearest companion, to creep into his bed one night and lie with him. Fortunately the outcome was good. He did treat her well, he didn’t take advantage and he has looked after us. But would I do that again – no I think not, I would hope not. Hindsight is easy but at the time we were struggling to know how to survive. Living in that place is different, what is a no go now changes with circumstances.
In time a child came from their relationship. This child has helped me find my life again. I thought my life was over and now I am a grandmother. There is much for me to live for.
Throughout my life I have had to make many hard decisions, often on my own. I’ve done my best, at times maybe I could have done better – who knows.
How do we know what makes for a good enough decision?
Doing all you can with all you have, where you are right now – that’s all any of us can do - no more is needed.
Ruth appears again in the Biblical Story – at the beginning of the New Testament, in a genealogy full of ‘begats’ and rarely read. Nestled amongst this catalogue of men whom Matthew lists to provide ‘an interpretative framework for the Gospel’, are five women, four of whom have origins or connections outside Judaism; five women who ‘are in relationships that are in some way marginal to and undermine the conventional patriarchal marriage pattern’[1]
reminding Matthew’s readers that God’s action is not confined to cultural norms. Ruth, Tamar, Rahab, Bathsheba and Mary all come from the edges of life; each is required to make a tough decision within limited choices. And, from out of their ‘good enough’ decisions, transformation emerges, new life is birthed and the promise of God’s flourishing future becomes a reality for all. This is indeed Good News. Thanks be to God. Amen.
[1] Warren Carter “The Gospel According to Matthew” in The New Interpreter’s Study Bible (2003) p.1748.
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