Hidden Hands, Daring Choices: The Tapestry of Grace (Ruth 4)

No sooner had Boaz gone up to the gate and sat down there than the next-of-kin of whom Boaz had spoken came passing by. So Boaz said, “Come over; sit down here.” And he went over and sat down. Then Boaz took ten men of the elders of the town and said, “Sit down here,” so they sat down. He then said to the next-of-kin, “Naomi, who has come back from the country of Moab, is selling the parcel of land that belonged to our kinsman Elimelech. So I thought I would tell you of it 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 will not, tell me, so that I may know; for there is no one prior to you to redeem it, and I come after you.” So he said, “I will redeem it.” Then Boaz said, “The day you acquire the field from the hand of Naomi, you are also acquiring Ruth the Moabite, the widow of the dead man, to maintain the dead man’s name on his inheritance.” At this, the next-of-kin said, “I cannot redeem it for myself without damaging my own inheritance. Take my right of redemption yourself, for I cannot redeem it.”

Now this was the custom in former times in Israel concerning redeeming and exchanging to confirm a transaction: the one took off a sandal and gave it to the other; this was the manner of attesting in Israel. So when the next-of-kin said to Boaz, “Acquire it for yourself,” he took off his sandal. Then Boaz said to the elders and all the people, “You are witnesses today that I have acquired from the hand of Naomi all that belonged to Elimelech and all that belonged to Chilion and Mahlon. I have also acquired Ruth the Moabite, the wife of Mahlon, to be my wife, to maintain the dead man’s name on his inheritance, in order that the name of the dead may not be cut off from his kindred and from the gate of his native place; today you are witnesses.” Then all the people who were at the gate, along with the elders, said, “We are witnesses. May the Lord make the woman who is coming into your house like Rachel and Leah, who together built up the house of Israel. May you produce children in Ephrathah and bestow a name in Bethlehem; and, through the children that the Lord will give you by this young woman, may your house be like the house of Perez, whom Tamar bore to Judah.”

So Boaz took Ruth, and she became his wife. When they came together, the Lord made her conceive, and she bore a son. Then the women said to Naomi, “Blessed be the Lord, who has not left you this day without next-of-kin, and may his name be renowned in Israel! He shall be to you a restorer of life and a nourisher of your old age, for your daughter-in-law who loves you, who is more to you than seven sons, has borne him.” Then Naomi took the child and laid him in her bosom and became his nurse. The women of the neighborhood gave him a name, saying, “A son has been born to Naomi.” They named him Obed; he became the father of Jesse, the father of David.

Now these are the descendants of Perez: Perez became the father of Hezron, Hezron of Ram, Ram of Amminadab, Amminadab of Nahshon, Nahshon of Salmon, Salmon of Boaz, Boaz of Obed, Obed of Jesse, and Jesse of David. --Ruth 4 (NRSVue)

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One of my favorite things about early summer in Minnesota is the explosion of life all around us. The trees are heavy with new green leaves, and the gardens are beginning to sprout, even if it’s been a little cool lately. In nature, summer feels like a steady state of plenty. It is a "green muchness" that feeds our souls deeper than we often realize.

To see how this connects to our faith—and to the end of the Book of Ruth—I want you to picture another landscape. Early in my ministry, I served a church in Goshen, Kentucky, just on the outskirts of Louisville. It is a place of wide-open, rolling green hills that look like waves of deep bluegrass. You can drive for miles past the black and white fences of famous horse farms, where the rich soil makes the grass look painted.

This is the home of farmer and poet Wendell Berry. He has spent his life teaching us that nature moves in reliable cycles. Even the deepest winter deprivation eventually returns to abundant fields and orchards. This is a perfect frame for the end of Ruth. As theologian Parker Palmer writes, summer is when the promises of a difficult season finally come due, repaid with compounded interest.

The climax of Ruth and Naomi’s story takes place at the city gate. In the ancient world, this was the local hub for law and business. Boaz goes there to settle the matter of Naomi’s family land, left behind years ago during the famine. While there, Boaz meets a closer relative to Naomi. The Hebrew text calls him paloni almoni—the ancient version of "Joe Schmo."

Boaz offers Joe the deal. At first, Joe is enthusiastic because he sees a material gain. But then Boaz shares the fine print. By law, buying the land means marrying Ruth—the Moabite foreigner. He must do this to maintain the deceased heir's name on the inheritance.

Suddenly, Joe gets cold feet. He refuses, claiming it will damage his own estate. Joe is living a calculated life of self-preservation. He sees his legacy as a secure stockpile that would be diminished by helping an outsider.

In contrast, Boaz refuses to live with a scarcity mentality. He accepts the legal and social risk. In doing so, he shows us the true meaning of hesed—a word that means far more than steadfast love. It means extraordinary, self-sacrificing faithfulness. Boaz weaves his life into the histories of two destitute widows, trusting that by passing grace around, he creates more of it. 

Choosing this kind of faithful risk requires a deep peace. Wendell Berry wrote about this in his famous 1968 poem, "The Peace of Wild Things." Written during a time of national despair—amid assassinations, racial injustice, and the death of our illusions—his words remind us that we can choose joy and courage. We can lean into a grace that doesn’t depend on our own anxious schemes. He writes:

When despair for the world grows in me

I go and lie down where the wood drake rests in his beauty on the water.

I come into the peace of wild things

who do not tax their lives with forethought of grief...

For a time I rest in the grace of the world, and am free.

When we rest in that grace - when we rest in God’s grace, we can act with courage.

We see this courage ripple out into the community of Bethlehem. When Ruth gives birth to a son, the neighborhood women don’t just watch; they share the joy. They name the child Obed themselves and proclaim, “A son has been born to Naomi!”

These women make a radical statement. They tell Naomi that Ruth is “more to you than seven sons.” In that culture, seven sons represented complete security. Yet, these women declare that Ruth’s faithful love is Naomi’s greatest blessing. Naomi, who returned home entirely empty, now experiences the fullness of generations.

This brings us to the most profound part of this summer harvest. The genealogy at the end of the book reveals that Obed would become the grandfather of King David. Think about what this means. A widow, an immigrant, and a foreigner was the person God chose to join the lineage of our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ.

God took a foreign widow from Moab and made her the foundation of a royal lineage of hope. By choosing community over secure stockpiles of wealth, Boaz, Ruth, and Naomi allowed God to weave their lives into a tapestry of grace. It was a legacy that outlasted them and that changed the history of the world. 

When we hold tight to what we have, we create a world of lack. But when we trust the flow of God’s abundant supply and pass it along, abundance flourishes. Community is the very definition of that abundance. In choosing it, we open ourselves to God, letting God re-shape our empty spaces into a royal inheritance of hope.

And this is the ultimate promise of the harvest: in God's kingdom, no one is an outsider to grace. The borders we build, the secure stockpiles we guard, and the lines we draw between "us" and "them" melt away at the city gate of God's love. Naomi’s once-empty lap was transformed into a space of generational fullness because an outsider was welcomed in.

So as we go forth into this bright summer season, let us open our hearts, open our hands, and expand our circles. Let us trust that when we choose community, we allow God to turn our personal emptiness into a royal legacy of hope. Amen.

Preached Sunday, June 21, 2026, at Vista Lutheran Church, St. Louis Park, MN.

 

From Generation to Generation: There's Room for Every Story

A record of the ancestors of Jesus Christ, son of David, son of Abraham:

Abraham was the father of Isaac.

Isaac was the father of Jacob.

Jacob was the father of Judah and his brothers.

Judah was the father of Perez and Zerah,

whose mother was Tamar.

Perez was the father of Hezron.

Hezron was the father of Aram.

Aram was the father of Amminadab.

Amminadab was the father of Nahshon.

Nahshon was the father of Salmon.

Salmon was the father of Boaz, whose mother was Rahab.

Boaz was the father of Obed, whose mother was Ruth.

Obed was the father of Jesse.

Jesse was the father of David the king.

David was the father of Solomon,

whose mother had been the wife of Uriah.

Solomon was the father of Rehoboam.

Rehoboam was the father of Abijah.

Abijah was the father of Asaph.

Asaph was the father of Jehoshaphat.

Jehoshaphat was the father of Joram.

Joram was the father of Uzziah.

Uzziah was the father of Jotham.

Jotham was the father of Ahaz.

Ahaz was the father of Hezekiah.

Hezekiah was the father of Manasseh.

Manasseh was the father of Amos.

Amos was the father of Josiah.

Josiah was the father of Jechoniah and his brothers.

This was at the time of the exile to Babylon.

After the exile to Babylon: Jechoniah was the father of Shealtiel.

Shealtiel was the father of Zerubbabel.

Zerubbabel was the father of Abiud.

Abiud was the father of Eliakim

Eliakim was the father of Azor.

Azor was the father of Zadok.

Zadok was the father of Achim.

Achim was the father of Eliud.

Eliud was the father of Eleazar.

Eleazar was the father of Matthan.

Matthan was the father of Jacob.

Jacob was the father of Joseph, the husband of Mary—of whom Jesus was born, who is called the Christ.

So there were fourteen generations from Abraham to David, fourteen generations from David to the exile to Babylon, and fourteen generations from the exile to Babylon to the Christ. --Matthew 1:1-17 CEB

Holy is God’s name, who shows mercy to everyone, from one generation to the next, for those who honor God. Amen.

From generation to generation. That is our theme throughout this incarnational season of the church year - this time from Advent through Epiphany. It is taken from Mary’s song of protest and praise - a song sung by her in the midst of challenge. In the midst of her vulnerability. Even in these moments, Mary could see God’s vision. That dream of God captured in the reading from Isaiah that we heard last week and, again, today. Perhaps, repetition is helpful for us - that this vision of God for a new way of being for all nations might be more fully and deeply embedded in us. A vision of peace. Of wholeness. Of shalom.

It was a vision that was bigger than Mary. That is bigger than we are. That Christ comes for our collective liberation. That this work of God’s redemption continues and is meant to be lived out and passed on. From generation to generation.

So, it’s perhaps no surprise that, on this first Sunday of Advent, we begin at the beginning. With Jesus’ family tree.

I’m curious how many of you have done any genealogy work on your own family tree? My work really began with my mother, decades ago, when she created a wall hanging for the 50th anniversary of my paternal grandparents. My brother, a cousin and I have continued that work. Over the past decade or so, thanks to Ancestry.com, that simple wall hanging has grown into an extensive tree reflecting generations in my family. Not only on my father’s side, but on my mother’s, as well.

Why do we do this work of tracing the generations of our families? Although I can’t answer that question for you, for me it has been a way of identifying where I come from. And who I am. In learning the stories of my ancestors, my story is told, too. 

There is, for example, the story of my father’s family. Fourteen children. Four boys and ten girls. A huge family with not alot of money, at least at the beginning. So, their entertainment was to sing together as a family. To play instruments, especially piano and accordion. To go every Friday night to community dances, which happens to be where my mom met my dad. And, because they lived in such a rural place, nearly 40 miles away from the nearest small town, it also meant that my father and his older brother learned how to fly (and crash) a small Cessna, so they could travel to places they might otherwise not have experienced. Perhaps, that’s how I get my travel bug.

If we look at Jesus’ lineage, we see that he, too, comes from a large family. In Matthew, this family is traced all the way back to Abraham. Then to Isaac, then Jacob with his twelve sons. Then to David, who God promised - covenanted with - that his line would never end. On and on Jesus’ line is traced through the chosen nation of Israel and its ancestors. From kings to prophets to priests. To show us two things about his identity. That Jesus embodies the royal lineage of King David, whose line would be carried on by the Promised One, the Messiah. And that he also embodies the covenantal authority of Abraham, through whom all the families of the earth would be blessed. For Matthew’s audience, Jesus may appear to be a simple carpenter, but he is, in fact, the fulfillment of both the promise to Abraham and that of King David. Jesus is the royal successor to David. King. And the promised Messiah. Savior. King and Savior, come to bless all nations. 

But, genealogies give us not only glimpses of the happy or joyful times in our families’ histories, but also stories of challenge and hardship. Sometimes evil. If I look carefully at my grandfather’s history, I learn that the same year he was born, his four-year-old sister died. Two years later, another sister died in childbirth. The following year, when my grandfather was only 3 years old, his mother, my great-grandmother Marian, died at the very young age of 24. Three months later, his father married Marian’s sister, Katherine. If I move to my mother’s side, I find a great-grandfather who was murdered. 

In the midst of the joy of our families, lies tragedy and heartache. Struggle and conflict. And, sometimes, family members who lose their way. This is so with my family. I wonder if it is so of yours.

This complexity is so with Jesus’ family, which contains serious blemishes.

For example, in Jesus’ line, Manasseh and Amon appear - two incredibly evil kings. Or there’s King Jechoniah, an unhappy king who was exiled not once, but twice. Then, notice the women who appear unexpectedly in Matthew’s genealogy, something unusual in ancient times. Many of them experienced their own trauma and heartache. There is Tamar. Jacob’s daughter-in-law whom he impregnated. Or Bathsheba. Unnamed in the family tree, but mentioned as the wife of Uriah, whom David killed so that he could take Bathsheba as his own. And impregnate her with a son she would lose seven days after his birth. Or consider Rahab. A prostitute who hid the Israelite spies as they were scouting out the Promised Land. Or consider Mary herself. A teenager who found herself pregnant and unmarried at a time when such a condition could result in stoning. All of these women, with the exception of Mary, foreigners, often in conflicted circumstances. Yet grafted - adopted - into Jesus’ family tree. Just as you and I have been adopted in, as well. 

What’s your family story? My guess is that it is as messy and wonderful as my family's story. And that of Jesus’ family. In those long lists of names, we remember the trauma and triumph of those who came before. Each name holds a story. And, in Matthew’s genealogy, their story gives way to Christ’s story. A story that encompasses all of our stories, complicated as they are. Weaving them together with generations past and present. Welcoming us in. And inviting us to share Christ’s story and our story, too. Of liberation and freedom. Of peace. Of shalom. With all the generations to come. 

Because, in Christ’s story, there is room for every story. Past. Present. And future. Amen.

Preached December 4, 2022, at Grace & Glory Lutheran, Prospect, with Third Lutheran, Louisville.

First Sunday of Advent

Readings: Matthew 1:1-17; Isaiah 2:1-5 

God's Promise of Jesus: Passing On the Promise

An account of the genealogy of Jesus the Messiah, the son of David, the son of Abraham.

Abraham was the father of Isaac, and Isaac the father of Jacob, and Jacob the father of Judah and his brothers, and Judah the father of Perez and Zerah by Tamar, and Perez the father of Hezron, and Hezron the father of Aram, and Aram the father of Aminadab, and Aminadab the father of Nahshon, and Nahshon the father of Salmon, and Salmon the father of Boaz by Rahab, and Boaz the father of Obed by Ruth, and Obed the father of Jesse, and Jesse the father of King David.

And David was the father of Solomon by the wife of Uriah, and Solomon the father of Rehoboam, and Rehoboam the father of Abijah, and Abijah the father of Asaph, and Asaph the father of Jehoshaphat, and Jehoshaphat the father of Joram, and Joram the father of Uzziah, and Uzziah the father of Jotham, and Jotham the father of Ahaz, and Ahaz the father of Hezekiah, and Hezekiah the father of Manasseh, and Manasseh the father of Amos, and Amos the father of Josiah, and Josiah the father of Jechoniah and his brothers, at the time of the deportation to Babylon.

And after the deportation to Babylon: Jechoniah was the father of Salathiel, and Salathiel the father of Zerubbabel, and Zerubbabel the father of Abiud, and Abiud the father of Eliakim, and Eliakim the father of Azor, and Azor the father of Zadok, and Zadok the father of Achim, and Achim the father of Eliud, and Eliud the father of Eleazar, and Eleazar the father of Matthan, and Matthan the father of Jacob, and Jacob the father of Joseph the husband of Mary, of whom Jesus was born, who is called the Messiah.

So all the generations from Abraham to David are fourteen generations; and from David to the deportation to Babylon, fourteen generations; and from the deportation to Babylon to the Messiah, fourteen generations. Matthew 1:1-17 (NRSV)

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

Good morning, once again, and Merry Christmas to you on this sixth day of Christmas - a season that is only twelve days long. 

When I first read through our Gospel, my immediate thought was that many of you would be grateful not to have to read this text today - this lineage of Jesus. The second thought I had was one of frustration with the developers of the narrative lectionary - frustration that they would choose this text for pastors to preach on. I mean, come on! What is there to find in this list of names. This list of Jesus’ ancestors.

Then, coincidently, I received this interesting gift from my son for Christmas. How many of you know what this is? That’s right. It’s a saliva test from 23andMe - better known as Ancestry.com. A DNA test. To help me find out more about my own ancestry.


My son knows that I, along with several of my family members, have been working on our family tree for some time on Ancestry.com. My mother actually began this work when she created a fabric wall hanging for my paternal grandparents’ 50th wedding anniversary in 1972. Since that time, we’ve continued to work on it. Work that has been immensely improved over the past several years through the internet and websites like Family Search and My Heritage and, yes, Ancestry.com.

Three of my four grandparents emigrated from Europe around the turn of the 20th century. We don’t have much history beyond their generation, although that is beginning to change as more and more records become available from European sources. The biggest challenge now is being able to read birth certificates or baptismal records in German. Their ancestry is a reminder for me, though, that it is only two generations back from mine that we were newly-emigrated to this country. That we were like those trying to come into this country now - and that, at the time my ancestors came, there were no laws to restrict them from entering.


There is a fourth grandparent - my paternal grandmother - whose family line we have been able to trace much further back. In this country, we’ve traced our family line to Aquila Chase, a man who came with his brother to New England in 1636, just 16 years after the pilgrims. In England, we’ve traced this line all the way back to 1225.

Why do we do this? This searching back into our family line? This seeking to find out more about our ancestors? Perhaps it is to find out who we are. Because it is our families who do this - who give us our identity.

And, so, it is with our text today. Within this list of names we see who Jesus is.

There’s been an immense amount of literature written on these first 17 verses. Did you notice, for example, that Matthew’s record of Jesus’ ancestors begins with Abraham.  This is different than Luke’s, which traces Jesus’ ancestry all the way back to Adam. Why? Well, we’ve talked before about how each writer of the gospels intended to reach a certain audience for certain purposes. Where as Luke intends to show the universal scope of Jesus’ ancestry, Matthew seeks to show that Jesus is the fulfillment of the promised blessing given to Abraham - that through Abraham all the world would be blessed.

Do you also notice that Matthew’s genealogy shows a mathematical precision? That there are 14 generations from Abraham to David, fourteen generations from David to the exile to Babylon, and fourteen generations from the exile to Christ? Fourteen. A number divisible by 7. Seven, which is a number associated with perfection. The seven days of creation. The seventh day of the week. The day of rest. The Sabbath. In these three periods of Hebrew history - the ancestral period, the monarchy, and the exile - there are six periods of seven generations, according to Matthew’s calculations. Thus, the advent of the Messiah - the coming of Jesus - is appropriately the beginning of the seventh period, the messianic period, the period of perfection.

Then, do you notice the four women mentioned in the genealogy. In this list of patriarchs. An anomaly in ancestral lists. The only list in which women are mentioned. All non-Israelites. Women living in a patriarchal society, needing to do what was necessary for their own survival.  Also, the naming of a New Testament woman. Mary. Of whom Jesus was born. Mary, with her unconventional pregnancy. 


There is much we can learn from Matthew’s list of Jesus’ ancestors. Perhaps, though, the most important aspect of this list is pointed out to us by Raymond Brown, one of the most important New Testament scholars of our day. In a reading that Keith shared with me this past week - a reading written by author Gail Godwin, but that talks about Brown’s insight on this list. 

In it, she points out that Brown notices that Matthew’s genealogy contains the essential theology of the Reformation. That of salvation by grace.

Do you notice that the story of the origin of Jesus Christ begins with Abraham begetting Isaac. There’s no mention of the older brother, Ishmael. The deserving older brother. Then Isaac is the father of Jacob. With no mention of Esau, the brother whose birthright Jacob stole. Jacob, then, is the father to Judah. Not Joseph, who was sold into slavery by Judah and his brothers. 

Brown points out that this list in Matthew tells us that God does not necessarily select the most noble or the most deserving person to carry on the legacy. To carry on God’s purposes. 

God selects the Judahs who sell their brothers into slavery. And the Jacobs who cheat their brothers to first place. And the Davids, who steal wives and murder rivals. And women. Not women like Sarah or Rebekah or Rachel, but women with checkered sexual histories or with scandal attached to their names, even Mary, the mother of Jesus.

No, Brown notes, God doesn’t select the saints. God selects the sinners. As we will see in the coming weeks, this will fit in with Matthew’s theme - that Jesus’ ministry is not only for those who are already righteous, but that it is, particularly, for those who aren’t. For those who are flawed. For this who are cunning and evil. For those who are weak-willed. For those who are misunderstood. For those who are broken.

For people like us. Because this is how God comes to us. God comes to us not through our perfect obedience, but through our brokenness. Through our deepest of flaws.  God comes to us in grace.

There’s one more thing, though, according to Dr. Brown, for us to notice about Matthew’s genealogy. It’s to be found in the last list of fourteen. People like Azor, or Achim, or Eliud, or Eliezar, or even Mathan, who was, according to this list, the great grandfather of Jesus. None of these men are found in scripture. It is in this last list of fourteen that the message becomes most real for us. Because, if so much powerful stuff can have been accomplished through the hundreds and thousands of years by such rascals and outcasts, through people who were such a mixture of saint and sinner, and through people, like these last fourteen, who were completely unknown and obscure, how much more likely is it that God can use us? That God can use us and our gifts, in all of our strengths and weaknesses, to continue to share the promise first given to Abraham so many generations ago? Or that God is using us to pass on this promise?

This is where we continue the list, where we continue the list of the origin of Jesus: “Jesus called Peter and Paul...Paul called Timothy...Timothy called someone else...someone called your ancestor in the faith….your ancestor called you...now, you must call someone else.” 

Go. Live into your family heritage. A heritage of passing on God’s promise.  Amen.

Preached December 30, 2018, at Grace & Glory Lutheran Church, Goshen, KY.
Christmas 1
Readings: Matthew 1:1-17; Psalm 132:11-12