Ruth
3:1-5, 4:13-17
“Where you go I
will go, and where you stay I will stay.”
This declaration of love and belonging comes from the book of Ruth in
the Old Testament. If it sounds familiar
it’s probably because you’ve heard it at a wedding or two. Although most often quoted in a romantic
setting the original context is far from sentimental. These words of love, spoken by Ruth to her
mother-in-law, Naomi, are uttered during desperate and uncertain times, times
that call for love not just in word but in action.
Which is not
always an easy thing to do. I mean, we
Christians talk a good game about love.
But when it comes down to
actually doing it in real life with real people all too often we fumble the
ball. Like the man who came home from
work one day to find a horrible scene.
His dog had apparently gotten out of the house and had run through his
neighbor’s walkway which had just been poured with wet concrete. The neighbor, in response, shot the dog. When the man went over to confront his
neighbor he exclaimed, “How could you do this?
I thought you loved dogs?!?!” “I
do love dogs,” said the neighbor. “I
love dogs in the abstract, but I hate dogs in the concrete.”
Isn’t that the
truth? We’re really good at loving
everyone in the abstract, but in the concrete, when “everyone” becomes a
someone with a particular name and face and, perhaps, a certain way about them
that we find annoying, offensive, or just downright wrong then love becomes a
challenge. Add to that a difference of
race, political party, nationality, language, or religion and loving such a
someone might even seem close to impossible.
Our Old Testament
witnesses to that tension, particularly when it comes to dealing with the
stranger. On the one hand, God told
Abraham that through him all nations would be blessed. The prophet Isaiah proclaimed that Israel was
to be a light to the nations. And
scattered throughout the scripture God’s people were instructed to exercise
special care, justice, and compassion for the stranger among them. Then in the book of Leviticus, God plainly
commands, “You shall love your neighbor as yourself.” Yet there is also another narrative, one
where preeminence is placed on keeping totally separate from those who are
different. Marriage to foreigners is
forbidden. Laws dictate that Jewish people may not touch, associate with, or
eat with those who are not Jewish. And
in some circumstances the Israelites were commanded to destroy entire foreign
towns and its occupants in order to keep God’s people pure.
Abstract people are
easy to love: concrete people, not so much.
And it’s exactly into this tension - that existed then and certainly
exists now - that the book of Ruth speaks.
For it’s a story about ordinary people challenged to move beyond fear
and prejudice in order to live faithfully and fully. And in doing so we see the power of love and
the good news that God’s people can be as different as they can be and yet
still belong to one another.
Ruth’s story
actually begins with Elimelech and Naomi, Israelites living in Bethlehem with
their two sons. Famine forces them to
become immigrants and find refuge in the neighboring, but foreign and sometimes
enemy, country of Moab. Elimelech dies
making Naomi a widow, but she is supported by her sons who end up going against
Jewish law and marrying local girls, Ruth and Orpah. Ten years pass and sadly tragedy strikes
again. Both of Naomi’s sons die leaving
Naomi and her daughters-in-law with no means of support. But word is that Israel is no long in a state
of famine so Naomi decides that her best bet is to head back to her
homeland. She counsels her
daughters-in-law to do the same, to go back to their original homes and try to
start over. Orpah heeds this
advice. Ruth does not. Despite all of their differences in age, nationality,
race, and religion plus the risk that as a Moabite she would face hostility in
the land of Israel, Ruth pledges to her mother-in-law, “Where you go I will go
and where you stay I will stay.” She is
committed to Naomi not with a sentimental or abstract love, but a love in
action, a love in the concrete. And it
is that type of love that makes these two belong to one another.
So together Naomi
and Ruth journey to Bethlehem. And our
reading picks up after some time of being back in Israel eking out an existence
by gleaning the remnants of local crops.
Realizing this is not sustainable, Naomi hatches a plan for Ruth to woo
one of Naomi’s relatives, Boaz. The plan
works flawlessly. Boaz takes Ruth as his
wife - another nontraditional and, some might say, unlawful marriage - which
provides protection for both Ruth and Naomi.
The blessings continue as Ruth becomes pregnant and gives birth to a
son, Obed, who will become grandfather to King David. Remarkably, Ruth, the outsider, the
foreigner, a person who might even be considered a threat by some, not only
plays a role in bringing about Israel’s greatest king, but centuries later is
named in the very first chapter of Matthew’s gospel as one belonging to Jesus’
family.
Ruth’s story
answers the thorny question about how do you take abstract love and make it
concrete? By loving those around you -
those who are seen and those who are unseen and on the margins. By sticking with them when it’s easier to
leave. By seeking the best for them even
when that may require some sacrifice on your part. By recognizing that your well-being is tied
up in their well-being. That’s because
along with being a love story Ruth’s story is also about belonging. In our world today where divisiveness has
become the norm and an “us versus them” mentality is cultivated we have the
counter message of Ruth. God’s
message. A message of inclusion - the
good news that God’s people do not have to look the same or think the same to
belong to each other. It is not
political party or race or language or nationality that makes us belong. What makes us belong is love - the love God
has for all of us which means that, like it or not, we belong to one
another. And no one can be dismissed.
Where you go I
will go, and where you stay I will stay.
These words don’t just belong to Ruth or to starry-eyed couples at the
altar, but to each one of us.
Challenging us to move beyond fear and prejudice. To recognize that in and through God we all
are linked together. To know that all of
us are fully loved and all of us truly belong.
So with God’s help, may we live that truth as we seek to love one
another - especially those we find in the concrete.
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