Living in the Covenant: Micah and What God Wants

Listen, all you peoples!

        Pay attention, earth, and all that fills it!

    May the Lord God be a witness against you,

            the Lord from his holy temple.

Look! The Lord is coming out from his place;

        he will go down and tread on the shrines of the earth.

Then the mountains will melt under him;

        the valleys will split apart,

            like wax yielding to the fire,

            like waters poured down a slope.

All this is for the crime of Jacob

        and the sins of the house of Israel.

        Who is responsible for the crime of Jacob?

                Isn’t it Samaria?

            Who is responsible for the shrines of Judah?

                Isn’t it Jerusalem?

As for you, Bethlehem of Ephrathah,

    though you are the least significant of Judah’s forces,

        one who is to be a ruler in Israel on my behalf will come out from you.

    His origin is from remote times, from ancient days.

Therefore, he will give them up

        until the time when she who is in labor gives birth.

        The rest of his kin will return to the people of Israel.

He will stand and shepherd his flock in the strength of the Lord,

        in the majesty of the name of the Lord his God.

        They will dwell secure,

        because he will surely become great throughout the earth;

        he will become one of peace.

When Assyria invades our land and treads down our fortresses,

        then we will raise up against him seven shepherds and eight human princes.

With what should I approach the Lord

        and bow down before God on high?

Should I come before him with entirely burned offerings,

        with year-old calves?

Will the Lord be pleased with thousands of rams,

        with many torrents of oil?

Should I give my oldest child for my crime;

        the fruit of my body for the sin of my spirit?

He has told you, human one, what is good and

        what the Lord requires from you:

            to do justice, embrace faithful love, and walk humbly with your God. 

--Micah 1:3-5, 5:2-5a, 6:6-8 (CEB)

Grace, mercy, and peace to you from the holy Trinity - Creator, Redeemer, Sustainer. Amen.

Elections. How are you doing in the aftermath of Tuesday’s election? Perhaps all you want is to not hear about elections for a long, long time. Perhaps you want to say to me, “Are you serious? Haven’t we had enough election stuff to last us for a good, long while? Just be done with it."

And I get that. But, with my son, both of us being political nerds, we've have spent the last several days reading and sharing back and forth nearly everything we can get about why people voted the way they did.

The exit polls are interesting. As accurate as polls can be. They give us some sense of where voters are. For example, 38% of voters thought the Democratic party was too extreme. And, lest you become arrogant, 39% of voters thought the Republic party was also too extreme.

Then there are voter’s priorities and attitudes. According to a recent poll, about 45% of voters who supported a top GOP House candidate called inflation their number 1 issue from a list of 5. Fifteen percent chose immigration and fewer than that picked any other issue as their top priority. But among voters who backed the Democratic candidate, about 43% called abortion their top issue, with 18% picking inflation and fewer than 15% picking any other issue.

Overall, roughly a third of voters cited inflation as their reason for voting. A third of voters cited the stripping away of a key right for women. And a third of voters cited fear for the future of our democracy as their key issues. As reasons for voting.

Yet, regardless of the issues, or the partisanship, or the way people voted, elections are always a referendum on leadership. On how well leaders are or aren’t doing what they were elected to do. You could say that elections are an indictment of our leadership.

So, too, with the book of Micah, which is at the center of our worship today. It is a referendum on leadership. An indictment by God spoken through the prophet Micah directed toward the leaders of Israel. 

So, who is Micah? Well, to begin with, we call him one of the minor prophets.  Do you know who some of the other minor prophets are? Well, to make it easier, let’s think of who the major prophets would be. Prophets like Isaiah. Or Jeremiah. Or Ezekiel. 

Then, who might be a minor prophet? Think Daniel, Hosea, Joel, Amos, Obadiah, Jonah. Micah! And there are a few more, a dozen to be exact. We categorize the prophetic books in scripture as either major or minor, not because of how good or skilled the prophet was. But, simply, by the volume of writings we have by them. Isaiah, for example, consists of 66 chapters. By contrast, Obadiah has one chapter, divided into 21 verses. 

Micah was a prophet from the southern kingdom of Judah. If you recall, under King Solomon, the nation of Israel had split in two. The northern kingdom, which had retained the name Israel, built its capital in the city of Samaria. The southern kingdom, now known as Judah, kept its capital city, Jerusalem. Each of the two nations were ruled by a series of kings until, in 720 BCE, Israel, the northern kingdom, was destroyed by the Assyrian Empire. It now had Jerusalem in its sights. Micah, over his lifetime, was a witness to all of this. And, seeing the handwriting on the wall, directed his messages primarily toward Jerusalem. A wake-up call for her leaders.

That’s what we hear in the first three chapters of this prophetic book. A critique of those leaders who, in reality, do not know justice, who hate the good and love the evil. It's a troubling indictment from Micah who uses very visual imagery to enhance his critique about how they have been preying upon the powerless: torn flesh, protruding bone, broken bone, and human flesh cut and boiling in a cauldron.

But, are all the leaders corrupt? That’s the nagging question in this first part of Micah, which looks carefully at everyone--rulers, priests, and prophets alike. In so many other prophetic writings, we hear about the external forces that are bearing down on the two kingdoms. But, here we are warned about the internal forces that destroy a nation: the internal longing for power that comes from within those who have authority and positions of leadership in the community. Over and over the critique is that they - all of the leaders - can be bought for a price. And that when their priorities are about gaining power and riches for themselves and not justice for the community they serve, they destroy the people who depend upon them. As if they are ripping off the skin of their people, breaking their bones, and chopping them up like meat for soup. 

Don’t they see this, these leaders? According to the prophet that’s what’s most terrifying - that the lure of power and the abuse of that power is so seductive and so deceptive that they are not even aware that they have become entrapped by it. These prophetic words of Micah in these first three chapters have us fully convinced that there is no hope for this corrupt community. That its destruction is inevitable. 

But, "as for you," the fifth chapter begins. But, "as for you, Bethlehem of Ephrathah." This is the hope we find in these words of the Prophet Micah. In these words about tiny Bethlehem. This small village from which will come great things. This town of David. From which will come the fulfillment of God's covenant with David, the promise that his kingly reign, his line, will never end.  “From you, Bethlehem of Ephrathah, will come a ruler whose origin is from old, from ancient days.” 

Into the midst of political turmoil and upheaval of Micah’s time we hear words that speak to the longing we all have, a longing for ourselves and for the communities in which we live. A longing for security and for peace. Peace and security that often comes from the most insignificant, small and surprising places. 

But, then, what do you want from us, God? That’s the question Micah sets out to answer in these closing words of his book - those words we know so well that we might even have them hanging on our walls at home. He begins chapter 6 by asking this question in two parts. 

First, how should we then approach and bow down before God? How should we make sacrifice - or in our language, how should we worship God? Should we bring a year-old calf? Or perhaps greater sacrifice - an extraordinarily generous one - thousands of rams, torrents of oil? Perhaps that is not enough, what about our firstborn children? Is that enough to please God? What, God? What do you want from us?

It's here that Micah reminds the people - and us - of all that God has done. The wondrous act of deliverance as Israel was led out of bondage. The wondrous victory given to us through that king out of Bethlehem - our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ. “Don’t you know the story?” God asks them. And us. “Haven’t you heard about my saving acts? Don't you yet know how to be my people?”

Your extravagant gifts. Your gilded and excessive worship. Not what God wants. And not that worship is a bad thing. Empty worship is a bad thing. Worship that does not lead to the transformation of our hearts - that doesn’t lead us to act. What God wants is deceptively simple. One. Two. Three. 

Do justice. Preserve the rights of everyone in the community.

Embrace faithful love. Love in God’s timeless and unconditional way.

Walk humbly with God. Be aware of your need for God, who journeys with us as a partner throughout each of our lives. 

Three simple things. 

Is this possible, we might wonder? Is it possible to be that committed, that inclusive, that loving? It becomes clear to us that God doesn’t want what we own. God wants who we are. Or, at the very least, God wants the world to see whose we are.

Simple. But, oh, so difficult. Only possible with the help of God.

May it be so, God. May it be so. Amen.

Preached November 13, 2022, at Grace & Glory, Prospect, with Third, Louisville.

23rd Sunday after Pentecost

Reading: Micah 1:3-5; 5:2-5a; 6:6-8

Responding to God's Love: Ruth - God's Hesed

Grace, mercy, and peace to you from God our Father, and from our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. Amen.

This fall we’ve been reading stories of people who lived out God’s calling for their lives through the relationships they had with God and with other people. Today is our sixth story of covenant and relationship. Before we begin looking at today’s story, we’re going to see how well we remember the previous five stories.

To do this, I need five volunteers. Each one of these people represents one of our stories. Your job, first, is to figure out which story they symbolize. Your second job is to, then, identify the order that these stories appear in the Bible. If you need it, you can use the pew Bible to help jog your memory. 

• Gen. 2:16-17 - Plant, symbolizing creation
• Genesis 18:14a - Bread, symbolizing Abraham and Sarah’s hospitality
• Genesis 32:28 - Wrestler, symbolizing Jacob wrestling with God
• Exodus 3:5 - Barefoot, symbolizing "holy ground"
• Deuteronomy 6:5 - Ten Commandments or tablet, symbolizing God giving Moses the Ten Commandments

Now that we’ve reviewed these stories of God and God’s relationship to people, let’s hear today's story. It’s also about relationship, although God doesn’t play a direct role in this story. So, perhaps, for us, it’s an important story. Because in these times after Christ, we don’t see a visible God present in our world, but more of a hidden God, working behind the scenes, just as in today’s story.

During the days when the judges ruled, there was a famine in the land. A man with his wife and two sons went from Bethlehem of Judah to dwell in the territory of Moab. The name of that man was Elimelech, the name of his wife was Naomi, and the names of his two sons were Mahlon and Chilion. They were Ephrathites from Bethlehem in Judah. They entered the territory of Moab and settled there.

But Elimelech, Naomi’s husband, died. Then only she was left, along with her two sons. They took wives for themselves, Moabite women; the name of the first was Orpah and the name of the second was Ruth. And they lived there for about ten years.

But both of the sons, Mahlon and Chilion, also died. Only the woman was left, without her two children and without her husband.

Then she arose along with her daughters-in-law to return from the field of Moab, because while in the territory of Moab she had heard that the Lord had paid attention to his people by providing food for them. She left the place where she had been, and her two daughters-in-law went with her. They went along the road to return to the land of Judah.

Naomi said to her daughters-in-law, “Go, turn back, each of you to the household of your mother. May the Lord deal faithfully with you, just as you have done with the dead and with me. May the Lord provide for you so that you may find security, each woman in the household of her husband.” Then she kissed them, and they lifted up their voices and wept.

But they replied to her, “No, instead we will return with you, to your people.”

Naomi replied, “Turn back, my daughters. Why would you go with me? Will there again be sons in my womb, that they would be husbands for you? Turn back, my daughters. Go. I am too old for a husband. If I were to say that I have hope, even if I had a husband tonight, and even more, if I were to bear sons— would you wait until they grew up? Would you refrain from having a husband? No, my daughters. This is more bitter for me than for you, since the Lord’s will has come out against me.”

Then they lifted up their voices and wept again. Orpah kissed her mother-in-law, but Ruth stayed with her. Naomi said, “Look, your sister-in-law is returning to her people and to her gods. Turn back after your sister-in-law.”

But Ruth replied, “Don’t urge me to abandon you, to turn back from following after you. Wherever you go, I will go; and wherever you stay, I will stay. Your people will be my people, and your God will be my God. Wherever you die, I will die, and there I will be buried. May the Lord do this to me and more so if even death separates me from you.”  --Ruth 1:1-17 (CEB)

Today, we read only a portion of the story of Ruth. Ruth is only one of two women with an entire book in scripture that is dedicated to telling her story. Who knows the other book? Yes, it’s the book of Esther. Esther is a Jewish queen. Ruth is neither Jewish. And, she is definitely not royalty. Yet, she is one of only four women who are named in Jesus’ genealogy, or history. Our key verses today are from chapter one. The book of Ruth is only four chapters long and it’s a great story. So, when you get home today, I encourage you to read the rest of Ruth.

There are many different approaches that we might make to today’s story. As it opens, we hear that there is a famine in Bethlehem. The irony here is that Bethlehem means “House of Bread.” The “House of Bread” is now empty. And Elimelech, our opening character, and his wife, Naomi,  Naomi, and their two sons, Mahlon and Chilion, must leave Judah, their home country and travel to Moab, another country, for food. So, one approach to today’s story might be that of food insecurity. Something that we, here, at Grace & Glory seek to address every week. 

Another approach might be related to the relationship between nations. Because the history between Moab and Judah is complex. Isn’t that something we see and understand, especially, as we grow older. That relationships between nations, as between people, are not simple. Or black and white. But, that they are filled with complexity. Moab and Judah are cousins. The Moabites are descendents of Lot, Abraham’s nephew. They are family. And, yet, there is a long history between them. Warning made to Israel that the women of Moab are seductive and will seduce Israelite men away from God. It’s this belief that eventually results in a law that forbids Moabites from entering Israel’s religious assemblies to the tenth generation. Yet, they are family, albeit, the black sheep of the family. 

To approach from this angle would also work, especially given the news stories this week of the situation at the Turkish and Syrian borders and the long, historic relationship between the Kurds and the Turks - a relationship fraught with complexity.

A third angle, or approach, might be that of immigration. Elimelech and Naomi and their sons are refugees from famine. Traveling to another country for food - a country that might not welcome them wholeheartedly and, in fact, a country that might reject them. That might shame them. Simply for seeking security for their family.

How appropriate this approach might be for us today, when the number of refugees in our world has surpassed the numbers from the time of the second world war and as our own country has continued to reduce the number of refugees it is accepting annually. To be an immigrant in our world today means to be without a country. Rejected. Isolated. Insecure.

A fourth approach (Who knew there could be so many ways to approach this story??) - a fourth approach, might be that of women. And, particularly, the role of women in a patriarchal society. Where one is considered property. Devalued. Not only for one’s ideas or opinions, but even for one’s body. Which doesn’t even belong to oneself. In our #MeToo era, this, too, would be a valid approach.

There are even more approaches. There is loss. The loss Naomi experienced with not only the death of her husband, but of both her sons. And the insecurity that resulted for her. And her daughters-in-law. Related to this is the issue of infertility - that after ten years of marriage, neither of her sons and their wives have had children. And so, there is also loss her. The loss of hope. And as a congregation that has had members experience much loss this year, this, too, would be an appropriate approach.

But, there is one approach that I will call an “umbrella approach.” You know when you open an umbrella and it covers everyone under it, this approach is like that. Because it is an overriding theme that we hear and experience throughout this complex story with so many different themes and approaches running through it.

That umbrella approach is connected to the Hebrew word hesed. We’ve heard that word before. It’s hard to define for us in English. It means “steadfast love” or “loving kindness.” In the Septuagint, which is the original Greek Bible translated from the Hebrew, the Greek word used for the Hebrew word hesed is the word we translate into English as grace. Normally, hesed is attributed to God. It’s a word used hundreds of times in the psalms to describe a God who is faithful. And loving. A God who shows a kind of covenantal love. The same kind of love that we see in the marriage covenant. A love that hangs in. Through the thick and the thin. The until “death do us part” kind of love. That kind of love. It is true that hesed describes the love and faithfulness of our God. The hesed that God continually shows to God’s people. To us.

Yet, in this small story in scripture, the hesed shown is that by Ruth toward Naomi. Ruth, who makes a choice to remain with her mother-in-law, instead of returning to her own mother. Who, then, returns with her mother-in-law back to Naomi’s home village, to her home country. Ruth, who is now the foreigner. Who is willing to risk everything - her family, her country, perhaps even her life - to show love and faithfulness - hesed - to Naomi, her mother-in-law.  

Because, you see, hesed is not just an adjective. Hesed is not just about an emotion. Like the Hebrew word shema last week, hesed is also a verb. It’s about action. About putting love into action. Whether it is to feed the hungry, to make peace between nations, to care for the immigrant, to lift up women and others who for way too long have been treated as “other,” or to simply be with and accompany those who have experienced deep loss, to show hesed is to show love in action. 

This is who we are to be. Because this is whose we are. 

We love because God first loved us. Amen.

Preached October 12, 2019, at Grace & Glory Lutheran Church, Goshen, KY
Pentecost 18
Readings: Mark 3:33-35, Psalm 126, Ruth 1:1-17

Cultivating Authenticity (Letting Go of What People Think)

God! My God! It’s you—

    I search for you!

    My whole being thirsts for you!

    My body desires you

        in a dry and tired land,

        no water anywhere.

Yes, I’ve seen you in the sanctuary;

    I’ve seen your power and glory.

My lips praise you

    because your faithful love

    is better than life itself!

So I will bless you as long as I’m alive;

    I will lift up my hands in your name.

I’m fully satisfied—

    as with a rich dinner.

My mouth speaks praise with joy on my lips—

    whenever I ponder you on my bed,

    whenever I meditate on you

        in the middle of the night—

    because you’ve been a help to me and I shout for joy in the protection of your wings.

My whole being clings to you;

    your strong hand upholds me.

But what about those people who want to destroy me?

    Let them go into the bowels of the earth!

    Let their blood flow by the sword!

    Let them be food for wild jackals!

But the king should rejoice in God;

    everyone who swears by God should give praise

        when the mouths of liars are shut for good. Psalm 63 (CEB)

Grace and peace to you from God, our Creator; Jesus Christ, our Redeemer; and the Holy Spirit, our Advocate and Comforter. Amen.

Tonight, we continue our gardening. Cultivating those behaviors that lead us to being the shalom, or wholehearted, people God intends. And pruning, or letting go of, those that don’t. We’ve been using two primary resources. The first is scripture and, more specifically, the psalms. The second is a book written by Dr. Brene Brown, a current research and teaching sociologist at the University of Houston. The name of her book is The Gifts of Imperfection.

Tonight is the halfway point for us this Lent. Tonight’s focus is on a key guidepost offered by Dr. Brown: cultivating authenticity and letting go of what people think. We begin with a look at Psalm 63.

Psalm 63 is an interesting psalm. It’s interesting because it is one of only a few psalms that theologians have not been able to neatly categorize. There are psalms of thanksgiving, psalms of lament, community psalms, liturgical psalms. Several different categories that most psalms fit neatly into.

However, Psalm 63 is different. At first glance, it appears to be a psalm of lament. A psalm of disconnection. “God! My God! It’s you - I search for you!” Yet, if we look more carefully, we note that expressions of thanksgiving, trust, and confidence more fully represent its theme. Look at verse 3: My lips praise you because your faithful love is better than life itself! 

The Hebrew word for “faithful love” is a word we’ve heard before. Hesed. Translated into Greek, it’s the same word for grace. A word that means God’s steadfast, undeserved love. The psalmist is full of this hesed - as full as from a rich dinner. It is that hesed of God that has been the source of the psalmist’s help and protection and the reason for the psalmist’s praise and thanksgiving.

It is hesed that, for us as New Testament people, is manifested in God’s incarnation and Jesus’ saving death on the cross. An act that shows us the depth of God’s love for us. An act that shows us the depth of God’s desire that we might be whole people. The whole and gifted people God has created us to be. 

How whole? How gifted has God created us to be? The answer to this is hidden in verse 8 of the psalm, a verse that we might easily miss. “My whole being clings to you; your strong hand upholds me.” This response - this act of God reaching out - is directly related to the opening cry of the psalmist. “I search for you!” What we miss, though, is that this reaching out by God with God’s right hand represents an honor that might be shown to a monarch or to a pharaoh, when the imperial god takes the leader by the right hand. According to Isaiah 42, this is the same gesture that God uses to choose God’s servant. To choose us. God views us as we would view a king. Or a queen. With the utmost dignity, respect, honor, and love.  With the gifts of royalty.

If God views us in this way, how might we more fully live into God’s view of us, rather than that of the world, a world that constantly bombards us with images that we are not good enough. Or that we’re not meeting up to cultural expectations. Expectations of who we are as women. Or men.

How, in the midst of this, might we authentically be the person, or the people, that God views us to be?

In her research, Dr. Brown has found that the “act of authenticity” is actually not that challenging. The real difficulty lies with the “audacity of authenticity.” That when we say “no” to people or we don’t respond in a way that someone expects, many of us experience shame triggers around being perceived as self-indulgent or self-focused. We don’t want to be viewed as selfish or narcissistic. And, sometimes, when we do push back, the system pushes us back.  With everything from eye rolls and whispers to real struggles in relationships and feelings of isolation. Or with responses that are cruel. Or that try to shame us.

Many of these triggers are connected to cultural expectations around gender. In her research, Dr. Brown has found that the attributes associated with being feminine are being “thin, nice, and modest.” And those for being male are “being in control emotionally, the primacy of work, control over women, and the constant pursuit of status.” So, to play it safe, women have to be willing to stay as small, quiet, and attractive as possible. And men - well, men have to stop feeling, start earning, and give up on any meaningful connection. 

Yet, to trade in our authenticity for safety eats away at our own sense of worthiness. And this can lead to depression, to anxiety, to eating disorders and addiction, to rage, to blame, to resentment, and to grief. 

Choosing to be authentic isn’t always the safe option. Sometimes choosing being real over being liked is all about playing it unsafe. It requires courage to speak honestly. When we do this, there will be growing pains. Yet, being true to ourselves is the best gift we can give the people we love. By letting go of trying to be everything to everyone, we will experience more time, more love, and more connection for the important people in our lives. And for the God who loves us. Who views us as royalty. And who desires for us to be more fully, and wholly, ourselves as God has created us.


May God help us to let go of what other people think, and to cultivate our own authenticity as God’s shalom people. Amen.

Preached March 27, 2019, at Grace & Glory Lutheran Church, Goshen, KY. 
Midweek Worship
Reading: Psalm 63

Ruth--A Story for Our Time: New Life

Grace and peace to you from God, our faithful Creator, and our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ. Amen.

Before I move into today’s Gospel lesson, I thought it might be helpful for us to have a little review. We’ve been in the book of Ruth for four weeks. Today, will be our last in the series that we’ve called, “Ruth--A Story for Our Time.”

So, do any of you remember back to that first week of this series? What was happening in the story? It was a chaotic time--when the judges ruled. A time when “each person did what they thought was right.” (Judges 21.25) There was a famine. Naomi and her husband, Elimelech, moved from Bethlehem to Moab because of famine. They were strangers in a new land, trying to adapt, trying to fit in. While there they had two sons, Mahlon and Chilion. 

What happened while they were in Moab? Elimelech died unexpectedly. Then, after Mahlon and Chilion were married, they, too, died unexpectedly. With no children, no heirs, to pass on their line. This left Naomi and Ruth and Orpah all by themselves. Widows. Childless. Vulnerable. Naomi decided to move back to her ancestral home. Ruth, even though she was a Moabite and would be a foreigner in Israel, chose to move with Naomi. 

Do you recall the last words of Naomi in the first chapter? “Don’t call me Naomi, but call me Mara, for the Almighty has made me very bitter. I went away full, but the Lord has returned me empty.” Even with Ruth, this brave and courageous daughter-in-law standing at her side, Naomi still called herself bitter. And empty.

Over the next couple of chapters, we saw Ruth at work, didn’t we? Needing to find a way to ensure, not only her security, but also that of her mother-in-law. So, she began to glean in the fields of a man named...Do any of you remember his name?...of a man named Boaz. Who, as it turned out, was kin--family--to Naomi. He was a relative of Naomi’s deceased husband, Elimelech. We saw the generosity of Boaz to Ruth--a woman who was not only a widow and childless, which would have put her on the fringes of the community there. But, also an immigrant, which would have made her triply vulnerable. 

And, then, last week, Ruth, knowing she needed to ensure greater security for herself and for Naomi...engaging in a scandalous act. A seduction really. Something that would have been completely inappropriate for any woman of her time, much less for an immigrant woman. A counter-cultural act. Proposing marriage to Boaz. Challenging him to fulfill his obligation to her and to Naomi to be their kinsman-redeemer. Their go-el. This tradition--in fact, this command from God--that required the next closest male kin to marry the widow, to ensure her safety and security and her future.

So, Boaz agrees. Except there is one little complication. Boaz is not quite the next-of-kin. He is the next next-of-kin. So, under the law, he is required to take this situation to Naomi’s next-of-kin. This is where our story picks up this morning.

We read from Ruth, chapter 4, from the Common English Bible translation:

Meanwhile, Boaz went up to the gate and sat down there. Just then, the redeemer about whom Boaz had spoken was passing by. He said, “Sir, come over here and sit down.” So he turned aside and sat down. Then he took ten men from the town’s elders and said, “Sit down here.” And they sat down.

Boaz said to the redeemer, “Naomi, who has returned from the field of Moab, is selling the portion of the field that belonged to our brother Elimelech. I thought that I should let you know and say, ‘Buy it, in the presence of those sitting here and in the presence of the elders of my people.’ If you will redeem it, redeem it; but if you won’t redeem it, tell me so that I may know. There isn’t anyone to redeem it except you, and I’m next in line after you.”

He replied, “I will redeem it.”

Then Boaz said, “On the day when you buy the field from Naomi, you also buy Ruth the Moabite, the wife of the dead man, in order to preserve the dead man’s name for his inheritance.”

But the redeemer replied, “Then I can’t redeem it for myself, without risking damage to my own inheritance. Redeem it for yourself. You can have my right of redemption, because I’m unable to act as redeemer.”

In Israel, in former times, this was the practice regarding redemption and exchange to confirm any such matter: a man would take off his sandal and give it to the other person. This was the process of making a transaction binding in Israel. Then the redeemer said to Boaz, “Buy it for yourself,” and he took off his sandal.

Boaz announced to the elders and all the people, “Today you are witnesses that I’ve bought from the hand of Naomi all that belonged to Elimelech and all that belonged to Chilion and Mahlon. And also Ruth the Moabite, the wife of Mahlon, I’ve bought to be my wife, to preserve the dead man’s name for his inheritance so that the name of the dead man might not be cut off from his brothers or from the gate of his hometown—today you are witnesses.”

Then all the people who were at the gate and the elders said, “We are witnesses. May the Lord grant that the woman who is coming into your household be like Rachel and like Leah, both of whom built up the house of Israel. May you be fertile in Ephrathah and may you preserve a name in Bethlehem. And may your household be like the household of Perez, whom Tamar bore to Judah—through the children that the Lord will give you from this young woman.”

So Boaz took Ruth, and she became his wife.

He was intimate with her, the Lord let her become pregnant, and she gave birth to a son. The women said to Naomi, “May the Lord be blessed, who today hasn’t left you without a redeemer. May his name be proclaimed in Israel. He will restore your life and sustain you in your old age. Your daughter-in-law who loves you has given birth to him. She’s better for you than seven sons.” Naomi took the child and held him to her breast, and she became his guardian. The neighborhood women gave him a name, saying, “A son has been born to Naomi.” They called his name Obed. He became Jesse’s father and David’s grandfather.

These are the generations of Perez: Perez became the father of Hezron, Hezron the father of Ram, Ram the father of Amminadab, Amminadab the father of Nahshon, Nahshon the father of Salmon, Salmon the father of Boaz, Boaz the father of Obed, Obed the father of Jesse, and Jesse the father of David.

It’s kind of funny, the beginning of today’s episode. Here we have two men, two relatives to Naomi. Boaz. And the other, unnamed. In fact, in the Hebrew, he’s called “so-and-so.” “Hey, so-and-so!” Boaz calls him at the beginning of our story. “Hey, so-and-so, I have something I need to talk to you about. But, I need to do it in front of ten elders--a quorum--because I need to ensure that it is a legal transaction.” 

And, so they engage in conversation. Negotiation, really. Just as we have seen so many of these conversations throughout these chapters of Ruth. Conversations in which things are worked out. Issues are resolved. Problems are solved. Conversations that happen like this not only in Ruth, but throughout all of Scripture. People talking to each other. Trying to work things out. And God, often hidden, but still present, at work.

Once this unnamed relative of Naomi's hears that there’s property available, he’s all ears. But, then, when he finds out there is a woman attached to the deal--an immigrant woman, in fact--he walks away. One has to wonder why? Maybe he already had too many wives? Or, more likely, it was because Ruth was a foreigner. An immigrant. After all, in all of the conversation she is called Ruth the Moabite. It’s almost her scarlet letter, isn’t it?

But “so-and-so’s” loss is Boaz’s gain! Because for him, the land isn’t as important as the woman. A woman whom he has seen and named as a woman of worth. So, Boaz and Ruth are married. And, then, our story reads, “God let her become pregnant.” They had a son. They’re firstborn son. Whom they named, Obed. 

If we go back throughout this story of Ruth and the conversations that happened, do you wonder what the characters were feeling as they were taking place? What was Naomi thinking as she told both Ruth and Orpah to stay in Moab? Was she anxious about how people in her homeland might respond to her daughters-in-law? Her foreign daughters-in-law?

Or what about Ruth when she made her marriage proposal to Boaz? One has to wonder--knowing how completely countercultural her proposal was--whether she felt anxious? What if he had said no? What if he had dismissed her because she was an immigrant? A foreigner?  

And, then, what of this conversation today, between Boaz and “so-and-so?” How anxious was Boaz feeling, going into this negotiation? Not knowing how it might end up. But hoping, against all hope, that he would walk away and be able to marry Ruth. 

How many conversations do you enter into that you are anxious about? A little nervous? Not knowing what will happen. Whether the conversation might go wrong and make things worse. Or if it might go well. Or somewhere in between. 

I have to confess to you that, this past Wednesday evening, as Pastor Lisa and I were preparing for our Sacred Conversation--our deliberative dialogue--around this very difficult topic of immigration, I was anxious. And nervous. Not knowing what would happen. Whether it would go well. Or not so well. Whether people would even show up. Even want to try to engage around a hot topic. Maybe, if you attended, you felt the same way. 

As the evening progressed, though--as we between to talk to each other, to listen and to be open to learning new things, I have to say that I began to feel hopeful. That, perhaps, we could do this. That, through our conversation, a new way might appear. That we might find begin to find agreement on things. And to honestly admit the places of tension, of disagreement, yet with some sense of resolve or hope that, even in these places, we might be able to come together. 

By the end of the evening, that hope had turned into something more like joy. As I listened to people laugh and joke with each other, knowing that they might be in different places politically, there was joy in the knowledge that were still sisters and brothers in Christ and that God had been at work in our conversation.  Bringing hope and joy out of anxiety. Bringing new, collaborative possibilities out of old, divisive ways. Bringing fullness out of emptiness. Bringing life out of death. 

Because isn’t that God’s way? Isn’t that God’s hesed? You know that word don’t you--a word meaning steadfast love and faithfulness? Even better, love-in-action. God’s love-in-action. A hesed that reached its fullest for us at the cross. God’s fullest love-in-action. Scandalous. Counter-cultural. Life-giving for us. And bring us fullness out of emptiness. 

And, that, my friends, is what this story of Ruth has been all about. God’s hesed. How God has worked behind the scenes and through the conversations in this story to bring, especially for Naomi, fullness out of her emptiness. Hope out of loss. Joy out of bitterness. New life out of death. A grandson, who will be in the ancestral line of the King of Kings--our Savior, Jesus Christ. 

This is a story for our time. It is a way of being together for our time. It is God’s way. A way of love-in-action. 

Thanks be to God! Amen.

Preached at Grace & Glory Lutheran Church and Shiloh United Methodist Church, Goshen, KY.
Pentecost 12
Readings: Ruth 4:1-22 (Luke 1:46-55)

Ruth--A Story for Our Time: Gleaning and Hope

Now Naomi had a kinsman on her husband’s side, a prominent rich man, of the family of Elimelech, whose name was Boaz. And Ruth the Moabite said to Naomi, “Let me go to the field and glean among the ears of grain, behind someone in whose sight I may find favor.” She said to her, “Go, my daughter.” So she went. She came and gleaned in the field behind the reapers. As it happened, she came to the part of the field belonging to Boaz, who was of the family of Elimelech. Just then Boaz came from Bethlehem. He said to the reapers, “The Lord be with you.” They answered, “The Lord bless you.” Then Boaz said to his servant who was in charge of the reapers, “To whom does this young woman belong?” The servant who was in charge of the reapers answered, “She is the Moabite who came back with Naomi from the country of Moab. She said, ‘Please, let me glean and gather among the sheaves behind the reapers.’ So she came, and she has been on her feet from early this morning until now, without resting even for a moment.”

Then Boaz said to Ruth, “Now listen, my daughter, do not go to glean in another field or leave this one, but keep close to my young women. Keep your eyes on the field that is being reaped, and follow behind them. I have ordered the young men not to bother you. If you get thirsty, go to the vessels and drink from what the young men have drawn.” Then she fell prostrate, with her face to the ground, and said to him, “Why have I found favor in your sight, that you should take notice of me, when I am a foreigner?” But Boaz answered her, “All that you have done for your mother-in-law since the death of your husband has been fully told me, and how you left your father and mother and your native land and came to a people that you did not know before. May the Lord reward you for your deeds, and may you have a full reward from the Lord, the God of Israel, under whose wings you have come for refuge!” Then she said, “May I continue to find favor in your sight, my lord, for you have comforted me and spoken kindly to your servant, even though I am not one of your servants.”

At mealtime Boaz said to her, “Come here, and eat some of this bread, and dip your morsel in the sour wine.” So she sat beside the reapers, and he heaped up for her some parched grain. She ate until she was satisfied, and she had some left over. When she got up to glean, Boaz instructed his young men, “Let her glean even among the standing sheaves, and do not reproach her. You must also pull out some handfuls for her from the bundles, and leave them for her to glean, and do not rebuke her.”

So she gleaned in the field until evening. Then she beat out what she had gleaned, and it was about an ephah of barley. She picked it up and came into the town, and her mother-in-law saw how much she had gleaned. Then she took out and gave her what was left over after she herself had been satisfied. Her mother-in-law said to her, “Where did you glean today? And where have you worked? Blessed be the man who took notice of you.” So she told her mother-in-law with whom she had worked, and said, “The name of the man with whom I worked today is Boaz.” Then Naomi said to her daughter-in-law, “Blessed be he by the Lord, whose kindness has not forsaken the living or the dead!” Naomi also said to her, “The man is a relative of ours, one of our nearest kin.” Then Ruth the Moabite said, “He even said to me, ‘Stay close by my servants, until they have finished all my harvest.’” Naomi said to Ruth, her daughter-in-law, “It is better, my daughter, that you go out with his young women, otherwise you might be bothered in another field.” So she stayed close to the young women of Boaz, gleaning until the end of the barley and wheat harvests; and she lived with her mother-in-law. Ruth 2 (NRSV)


Grace and peace to you from our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ. Amen.

Last week, we began the story of Ruth. Well, really, it’s the story of Ruth and Naomi. Ruth, the daughter-in-law, and Naomi, the mother-in-law. 

If you will recall, by the end of our first of four episodes in this series, Naomi had tragically lost her husband and her two sons in Moab. Originally, Naomi and her husband, Elimelech, were not natives to the country of Moab. They had moved there from their home town of Bethlehem in Judea, forced to flee there to survive because of a severe famine. Forced to flee to a country where they knew they would very likely not be welcome.

It was there, in Moab, that they had two sons, both of whom eventually married. But, by the end of the first episode, tragedy had struck. Both Naomi’s husband and her two sons had died. So, Naomi made the choice to return to her homeland. And Ruth, her daughter-in-law, made the choice to return with her, giving up her family and her own country. And vowing her faithfulness to Naomi in the words that we so often hear at weddings: “Wherever you go, I will go; and wherever you stay, I will stay. Your people will be my people, and your God will be my God.”

As our second episode begins, Ruth and Naomi are in Bethlehem, arriving just as the barley harvest is beginning.

Ruth sees this as an opportunity. They are destitute. Ruth knows that they need food. So, she asks Naomi if she might go into the fields to glean as the fields are being harvested.

This idea of gleaning might be a new idea for some of us. Perhaps you’ve heard the word “entitlement” in political discussions. We often refer to Social Security or Medicare as entitlements--something that our government has determined that certain people, such as the elderly or the disabled, should be entitled to. 

Gleaning was also an entitlement. Rather, though, than an entitlement established by some government, gleaning was an entitlement that was established by God. For the poor. And the immigrant. An entitlement that preserved one’s dignity. “When you harvest your land’s produce,” we read in Leviticus 19, “you must not harvest all the way to the edge of your field; and don’t gather up every remaining bit of your harvest. Also, do not pick your vineyard clean or gather up all the grapes that have fallen there. Leave these items for the poor and the immigrant; I am the Lord your God.” 

So, Naomi sends Ruth on her way to the fields to glean.

In these fields, Ruth was very vulnerable. First, she was a widow, which in ancient times, meant she had no status because everything--money, wealth, status--would have belonged to her husband. But, without a husband, she was then vulnerable.

On top of this, Ruth was an immigrant, which meant that she had even less status than a widow. A widow might have had access to a land grant through her husband. But, immigrants--well, they were given no land grant. And, so, Ruth was doubly vulnerable as she went into the fields to glean.

Then, something unexpected happened. The story reads, “By chance, it happened to be the portion of the field that belonged to Boaz, who was from the family of Elimelech.” 

By chance. By chance. There’s this old saying, “A coincidence is a miracle in which God prefers to remain anonymous.” 

By coincidence. By chance. It just so happened that the field Ruth was gleaning in belonged to a man named Boaz, who was a respected relative of Naomi’s now deceased husband, Elimelech. By chance.

Last week, we talked about this Hebrew word, hesed. This word that describes God throughout all of the Hebrew scriptures. A word that means steadfast love and faithfulness. A word that refers to a love that is not an intangible kind of love, but a love that acts. That is love in action. We used it to describe the type of love that Ruth showed Naomi last week in remaining by her side, in giving up her family and her culture and her country to stay with Naomi, knowing how vulnerable Naomi would be. How vulnerable, really, both of them would be. It is through Ruth, that God is working. Through Ruth, Naomi experiences God’s hesed--God’s love in action.

This week, that same hesed is shown through Boaz. This man, wealthy and respected in the community, who just happens to be Naomi’s kin. By coincidence.

As Ruth is gleaning in the field, Boaz approaches. He inquires of his foreman who she is. The foreman’s first identification of Ruth is that she is a foreigner, an immigrant. His second is that she is one who had returned with Naomi. It’s a typical response. Ruth looks different. She sounds different. Clearly, she doesn’t belong there. She is, first, an immigrant. Right?

But, how does Boaz identify her? The first words out of his mouth are “my daughter.” Not foreigner. Or immigrant. Or stranger. Or even widow. But, “My. Daughter.” He claims her as family. And, then, Boaz begins to ensure that his abundance will also be hers. By making sure that there is an abundant amount left over for her to glean. By making sure that she can gather with other women, so she will be safe. By making sure that his men working in the fields will not assault her. And, then, to invite her to eat with him and the rest of his household and to serve her himself.

THIS is hesed. This is God’s hesed at work through Boaz. It is a love that is shown in word and deed. It is a hospitality that is shown to neighbor. and, it is a hesed that is directed to the stranger among us. To the foreigner. The immigrant. The vulnerable. Steadfast love and faithfulness. God’s steadfast love and faithfulness shown through Boaz. Shown through us.
You see, both Boaz and Ruth give us rich examples of what welcome and hospitality should look like in our world today. There is no border that prevents either of them from showing hesed to the stranger among us. There is no border that prevents us from doing the same. Showing God’s love, God’s hesed, to the stranger among us. The poor. The immigrant.

Because there is no border that kept God from showing God’s hesed to us. No sin great enough. Nothing to get in the way of God coming to us in Jesus. Jesus, who welcomes us to his table. Who welcomes everyone to his table. You and I. The poor. The immigrant.

In another week or so, we will be engaging in a sacred conversation around this topic of immigrant. This difficult topic of immigration. It is a complex issue. It is an issue around which there are many opinions--many different opinions that I’d suggest are present in this congregation and in our community. How do we enter into sacred conversation around this topic? How do we identify our shared values around the question of immigration? How do we figure out a way to move forward?

Perhaps, we look to this story. To the way in which Boaz responded to Ruth. To the way to which Ruth responded to Naomi. Before and after she met Boaz. Because Ruth’s hesed towards Naomi did not end with their journey back to Bethlehem, back to Naomi’s homeland. No, after Ruth had eaten with Boaz, she took the abundant leftovers and the 30 pounds of grain that she had gleaned and she brought them to Naomi. She gave Naomi hope.

This is what God’s hesed looks like. Perhaps, as we engage in sacred conversation around this topic of immigration and how we respond to the immigrant--to the foreigner--this is what God’s hesed is to look like in us. Love. Faithfulness. Abundance. Hope. 

Something to think about. Amen.

Preached July 29, 2018, at Grace & Glory Lutheran Church, Goshen, KY.

Pentecost 10

Readings: Ruth 2:1-23 (Luke 6:36-38)

Ruth--A Story for Our Time: Loss and Loyalty

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.

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?”

So Naomi returned together with Ruth the Moabite, her daughter-in-law, who came back with her from the country of Moab. They came to Bethlehem at the beginning of the barley harvest.  Ruth 1 (NRSV)

Grace and peace to you, from our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ. Amen.

It’s good to be back. I’m grateful to Pastor Funk for covering for me last week, allowing me to be away. During the time I was on vacation, I travelled to Minnesota to be with my son and daughter-in-law. It was a great journey. 

Today, we are going on another journey--an imaginary journey. This journey, though, is not a journey that we want to make. It is one that will take us away--from extended family, from country, from culture, from church--from everything we know and love. But, it is a journey that we must make. Because, unless we do, we will not survive. None of us.

It is a journey like this that is described in the opening verse of our reading: “During the days when the judges ruled, there was a famine in the land. A man with his wife and two sons went from Bethlehem of Judah to dwell in the territory of Moab.

There’s a lot in this first verse. First, it opens with this phrase, “During the days when the judges ruled...” This time--the time of the judges in Hebrew scripture--was a time of great chaos and disobedience in Israel. If we turn to the book that immediately precedes the book of Ruth, we read these words in its closing verses: In those days there was no king in Israel; each person did what they thought to be right.
 
Doing what is right in one’s one eyes is never a good thing in the Bible. The book of Judges traces a story of decline and anarchy in Israel. And even though God sought to raise up faithful judges, or tribal leaders, to save Israel from their enemies, each time they fell back into mayhem. Every. Single. Time. Back to doing what was right in one’s own eyes--which was a direct denial of the Law given to Israel--the law we heard given earlier this summer. Given to promote life--life with God and life with our neighbors. In the time of the judges, Israel fails to fulfill that law. And falls into chaos.

In the midst of this, we enter the story of Ruth. In the second part of the first verse, we find that there is a famine in Bethlehem, which, ironically, means “house of bread.” There is no more bread in Bethlehem. Survival means finding food. So begins the story of a family--Elimelech, the husband; Naomi, the wife; and their two sons, Mahlon and Chilion.

They journey to Moab. Crossing a border in search of food. Trying to survive. Vulnerable.

Chances are pretty good that, when they arrived in Moab, they were not welcomed with open arms. You see, there was a long, complex history between Israel and Moab. While there was some history of cooperation between the two nations, there was also tension and conflict. During the Exodus, God had even commanded Israel not to intermingle or intermarry with the Moabites. In moving to Moab, Elimelech and Naomi and their sons entered into this foreign country, knowing that they would likely not be welcome.
 
What level of desperation does it take to do this? To feel so hopeless that survival means  no other choice but to leave the country one loves? The culture one loves? The family one loves? To move to a place where one knows no one? To begin all over again? To a place where one likely won’t feel welcome? How desperate and vulnerable must one be?

Over time, Elimelech and Naomi and their sons settled in. They began to build a new life for themselves there. Just as things were looking up, tragedy struck with the death of Elimelech. Naomi became a widow. And, although her sons married and she gained two daughters-in-law, both Moabites, soon, there was a second tragedy. The death of both of her sons. Naomi was not only a widow, but childless, as well. And her daughters-in-law--Ruth and Orpah? Well, they, too, were widows. And also childless.

We’ve heard before how vulnerable widows were in ancient times. Everything--name, wealth, status--was passed on only through male heirs. To lose a husband, meant to lose everything. To lose both husband and sons meant meant loss of name, wealth, status. And the family future. Without sons, there was no future. And, without sons, there was no security in old age. Naomi, Ruth, and Orpah were completely alone. And vulnerable.

The custom was that a widow would either be taken into the home of the next oldest brother-in-law or to return to her father’s household to be protected and cared for. Naomi heard that the famine had ended in Israel. She decided to go back. To return to her home country, to be with her family. And, so, in the days before Israel had a king, three women set out on a long journey...

Narrator: Day one. 

Ruth: “It was hard to say goodbye to my family, not knowing if I’d ever see them again. My mother cried and my father held me for a long time and I felt his sadness. I know very little about the land to which I’m traveling. I’m glad that Orpah, my sister-in-law, is coming with us, because we share the same memories, the same stories. We can help each other along.”

Narrator: Day two.

Naomi: “To be going home was all I ever dreamed of. Ten years in Moab felt like a lifetime. I only went there because Elimelech decided that living and working in a foreign land was better than starving in our own village. But my husband and my sons are now dead. I am nothing now; a widow with no identity and no protection. Even my God has deserted me and left me bitter. This is nothing left for me in Moab. They say the harvest will be food this year in Bethlehem. I still have family there. I hope they’ll help me. I’m going home. And Orpah and Ruth, my daughters-in-law, are coming with me.”

Narrator: Day three.

Ruth: “Orpah went back to Moab today, back to her home and family. Naomi told her that it was better for her to remarry and raise a family in her own community. It was a hard parting. Orpah loved Naomi. We were all in tears. I’ve decided to stay with Naomi. I can’t really explain why, but I held onto her and told her that I was going with her. I left no room for argument. We are journeying on.” 
Narrator: Day five.

Naomi: “Why won’t Ruth go home? I gave her my blessing. I tried to set her free of any obligation that she feels towards me. I even told her that God has turned against me by taking my husband and sons away from me. But she won’t listen. She insists she’s coming with me and that nothing I can say will make her change her mind.”

Narrator: Day six.

Ruth: “I wonder what Naomi’s village is like. Will her neighbors remember her? What will her relatives say when they find out about Elimelech and Mahlon and Chilion? What kind of reception will she get? Will they welcome Naomi? Or will they resent her for leaving when they were all struggling for survival, for getting out with her family and leaving the weakest behind? And what will they make of me, with my foreign ways and accent? Will they blame me for what has happened? Naomi thinks that her God is punishing her. Will he punish me, too? I’ve said her God will be my God, but I don’t know what he’s like, this God of hers. Or what he demands.”

Narrator: Day eight.

Naomi: “Ruth is still with me. Although her presence is a continual reminder of what I’ve lost, I’m not sorry. It’s good to have a daughter-in-law who loves me like a mother, or like a friend. I’m trying to prepare her--to tell her about my village, my people, about our faith and traditions. But, it’s so strange to her. And, how can I tell her that our God is generous and faithful, when all I feel is bitterness now because it seems that God has taken from me all that i lived for and loved?

Narrator: Day nine.

Ruth: “Naomi says we’re getting near to Bethlehem. Part of me is excited and part of me is scared. This journey has given me time to think, time to ask questions. I don’t feel like the person that I was when we left Moab. I’ve had to leave behind the things that I don’t need any more, to let them go. And I’ve discovered some of the things that I want for myself, what I hope for, what I dream about, what I need. I can’t forget Chillon, or Moab, or my family. I don’t want to--they’re still part of me, part of the story of who I am. But I now know better who I am. I am Ruth. I am a widow. I am strong. I am able to take risks and to make changes. I am travelling with a new God. Naomi says he looks after his people, fights for them, shelters them, feeds them. “He” sounds a bit more like a ‘she’ to me. I’ll tell Naomi that one day. I wish I could share some of this with Naomi. But, she’s so sad at the moment. I want her to know how much I love her, that I want to stay close to her, that I want us to share whatever happens to us from now on.”

Narrator: Day ten.

Naomi: “It is good to be home again. Yet, today was both sad and wonderful: wonderful to see my friends and neighbors and catch up on ten years of news and gossip; sad to tell my story, to come home without my husband and sons. It’s so hard. Yet, somehow, it feels safe to be back with people who still believe that God loves them and cares for them. Ruth is now the stranger here, but it’s hard, because this is my home and yet it’s strange for me, too. Maybe I can learn to live with my sadness and pain. Maybe this place will be both an ending and a new beginning for me, for both of us. Maybe out of our struggle and suffering, something new will be born.”

Narrator: And so, Naomi returned from Moab, and Ruth the Moabitess, her daughter-in-law, came with her. As they came to Bethlehem, the barley was ripening. It was harvest time.



Friends, scripture is ripe with stories like Naomi and Ruth and Orpah and entire casts of characters. In them, in their lives, in their conversation, we see and hear their diverse stories. And their diverse voices. Voices that are in conversation with each other across the centuries about many difficult issues and circumstances. In the midst of these voices, we see God at work. Sometimes God is very present. At other times, God may not seem present, but is still working there, behind the scenes.

Just as with Ruth and Naomi, God calls us into dialogue with each other, sometimes around what might be very hard issues. We may not always agree with each other. Yet, at the heart of our conversation and our understanding, and particularly at the heart of our faith is a belief that God is faithful and is always at work. Transforming. Seeking to bring life out of death. New out of old. Understanding out of misunderstanding. Peace out of conflict. Love out of hate. Hope out of despair. 

There is a Hebrew word that describes this steadfast faithfulness and love of God. Hesed. Hesed is a word that describes love. But, it is not some abstract, intangible concept of love. Instead, it is a picture of love in action. Of love that goes beyond walls. Beyond borders. Beyond differences. Of love that goes beyond laws. Of love that brings new life. Hesed is what we see in Ruth as she lives out her love for Naomi, who is a foreigner and a widow, just as she is. But, mostly, hesed is what we experience from God. Love in action in God coming to us. In Christ. Who is the embodiment of God’s love.

As we proceed through these next weeks, I pray that we might begin to engage in conversation around the difficult topic of immigration. To be vulnerable and open with one another in such a way that we might begin to identify what we have in common--our shared values. Values that are informed by God’s steadfast love and faithfulness. By God’s hesed. Values that lead us forward.

Perhaps then, if we are able--perhaps we might begin to help our desperate and divided and chaotic world also begin to find a way forward. 

May God grant it. Amen.

Preached July 22, 2018, at Grace & Glory Lutheran Church.
Pentecost 9
Readings: Ruth 1:1-22 (Matthew 5:3-9)