God's Promises Bring Hope: Our Promise-Keeper

Hasn’t this past week felt a little unsettling? With everything in the news, with concern about what’s happening in Washington, or with the hurricane in the Gulf coast area, doesn’t it sometimes seem like the world is a really scary and bad place?

Well, that’s how the story of Noah begins--when the world was a scary and bad place, just as for us today. And, yet, the story ends when God places a rainbow in the clouds as a symbol of promise and as a sign of the covenant between God and all living creatures.

This story can feel difficult for hear when we are living in a world like today--where extreme events seem to be a regular occurance. We might find ourselves asking in these times--in natural disasters or disasters that are human made--we might ask, “Where is God in this event?”

Who of you remembers Mister Rogers? Mister Rogers used to share that, in times of crisis, his grandmother and his parents would tell him to “look for the helpers.” That, if you looked on the edges of the event, you could often see helpers there, quietly at work, caring for others and for God’s creation. You see, the “helpers” are the ones who take part in God’s covenant promise to care for creation. Let’s watch Mister Rogers!

Think about those people who are the "helpers" in difficult situations. Make a list of how you can be a helper for someone who is scared, how you might be able to help care for God's creation.

Prayer: God, sometimes the world can be a scary place. But we know that you are always with us. In the Bible we read over and over about your promise to save us. We remember your promise every time we see a rainbow. Thank you for being stronger than the scary things of this world. We pray, in Jesus’ name. Amen.

The story of Noah and the ark is a well-known story. Some of us have likely heard it many times in our lives. As we hear it today, I want you to think about these questions: What bothers you about this text? What does this text tell you about God? What does this story have to do with the way you live your life?

The Lord saw that humanity had become thoroughly evil on the earth and that every idea their minds thought up was always completely evil. The Lord regretted making human beings on the earth, and he was heartbroken. So the Lord said, “I will wipe off of the land the human race that I’ve created: from human beings to livestock to the crawling things to the birds in the skies, because I regret I ever made them.” But as for Noah, the Lord approved of him.

These are Noah’s descendants. In his generation, Noah was a moral and exemplary man; he walked with God. Noah had three sons: Shem, Ham, and Japheth. In God’s sight, the earth had become corrupt and was filled with violence. God saw that the earth was corrupt, because all creatures behaved corruptly on the earth.

God said to Noah, “The end has come for all creatures, since they have filled the earth with violence. I am now about to destroy them along with the earth, so make a wooden ark. Make the ark with nesting places and cover it inside and out with tar. This is how you should make it: four hundred fifty feet long, seventy-five feet wide, and forty-five feet high. Make a roof for the ark and complete it one foot from the top. Put a door in its side. In the hold below, make the second and third decks.

“I am now bringing the floodwaters over the earth to destroy everything under the sky that breathes. Everything on earth is about to take its last breath. But I will set up my covenant with you. You will go into the ark together with your sons, your wife, and your sons’ wives. From all living things—from all creatures—you are to bring a pair, male and female, into the ark with you to keep them alive.  From each kind of bird, from each kind of livestock, and from each kind of everything that crawls on the ground—a pair from each will go in with you to stay alive.  Take some from every kind of food and stow it as food for you and for the animals.”

Noah did everything exactly as God commanded him.

After forty days, Noah opened the window of the ark that he had made.  He sent out a raven, and it flew back and forth until the waters over the entire earth had dried up.  Then he sent out a dove to see if the waters on all of the fertile land had subsided, but the dove found no place to set its foot. It returned to him in the ark since waters still covered the entire earth. Noah stretched out his hand, took it, and brought it back into the ark.  He waited seven more days and sent the dove out from the ark again. The dove came back to him in the evening, grasping a torn olive leaf in its beak. Then Noah knew that the waters were subsiding from the earth. He waited seven more days and sent out the dove, but it didn’t come back to him again.

God said to Noah and to his sons with him, “I am now setting up my covenant with you, with your descendants, and with every living being with you—with the birds, with the large animals, and with all the animals of the earth, leaving the ark with you. I will set up my covenant with you so that never again will all life be cut off by floodwaters. There will never again be a flood to destroy the earth.”

God said, “This is the symbol of the covenant that I am drawing up between me and you and every living thing with you, on behalf of every future generation. I have placed my bow in the clouds; it will be the symbol of the covenant between me and the earth. When I bring clouds over the earth and the bow appears in the clouds, I will remember the covenant between me and you and every living being among all the creatures. Floodwaters will never again destroy all creatures. The bow will be in the clouds, and upon seeing it I will remember the enduring covenant between God and every living being of all the earth’s creatures.” God said to Noah, “This is the symbol of the covenant that I have set up between me and all creatures on earth.”  Genesis 6:5-22, 8:6-12, 9:8-17 (CEB)

It’s important for us to understand that, in the ancient world, people told stories about floods. The Sumerians, the Africans, the Babylonians--all of these people told stories about floods. In particular, they told stories about water and its power to destroy towns and cities, and even whole civilizations. There were also stories--in these times--of people who built boats to survive these floods.

Floods were often believed to be divine judgment by angry gods. Gods who were angry with people for messing everything up. So, through floods, the angry gods “cleared the deck” to start all over again.

So, it’s not really unusual that, when we come to Genesis 6, we hear a flood story. This story--with Noah, and his ark, and his family and the animals--is like all the other flood stories because, of course, this god is like the other gods. Angry. Fed up with an evil humanity. Evil in every way--in thoughts and in actions. 

So, this god--like all those others--decides once again to unleash divine wrath on the world through a flood.

But, then, something strange happens with this story. It ends with a promise from this god that this will never happen again. What? God literally says to Noah, “I will place my ‘bow’ in the clouds as a sign of this promise.” A bow--like an archer’s bow. God puts up God’s weapon and says, “No more!” This God will be different from the other gods. This God will commit to living with people in a new way--a way in which life is not destroyed, but is preserved and respected. 

So, why was this story told? Why did it matter? And why did it endure throughout the ages?

Well, imagine what it was like to live in this time--no weather reports, no Google earth images, no airplanes or weather satellites. You’d likely never have travelled more than a few miles from where you were born. Then, imagine what a massive flood must have felt like--coming at you out of nowhere. Wiping out your house and your crops and your animals and your family members. Gone. 

What would that do to your psyche? How would you respond to such an event?

You would do exactly what we do when we suffer. We look for reasons. For causes. To understand why this is happening to me. To us. So, in the ancient world, it was generally believed that the causes of these floods were gods who were angry. That’s how people made sense in stories of the world and of floods.

But, this tale, in Genesis was different. Even though it began with the same old story--of divine judgment and a flood--there’s a huge twist at the end. Everybody doesn’t die, as in the other stories. A family is spared. And, then, a promise is made to them--a promise with a sign. The sign of the rainbow.

Because this flood story is the story of a God who wants to relate to us. Who grieves deeply when we push God away from us. Because God is a God who wants to save. A God who wants to be in covenant with us. 

This flood story is a story about a new view of God. Not a God who wants to destroy humanity, but a God who wants to be in relationship with us. And who promises to stay with us, even in the midst of our messy and chaotic world.

God sent a rainbow as a sign that God would never again destroy the earth. And, then, God set out to write a new story--a story about love and salvation. About God keeping God’s promises. Our God is a promise-keeper. And, because we know this, we can trust God’s word.

Sometimes, though, isn’t it hard to trust that promise? We need to be honest about that with ourselves and with others, too. 

When is it hard for you to trust the promises of God? Perhaps it's in times of challenge or loneliness? Or maybe in times of fear and frustration.

Think about that. Then, remember that, regardless of our fears, God sets the rainbow in the sky as a promise that God will never forsake us. That God will always be with us. This is God’s promise. And God is our promise-keeper. Amen.

Preached Sunday, September 9, 2018, at Grace & Glory Lutheran Church, Goshen, KY.

Pentecost 16

Reading: Genesis 6:5-22, 8:6-12, 9:8-17

*The concept of the flood story utilized is done so with much gratitude to that given by Rob Bell in his book, What Is the Bible? How an Ancient Library of Poems, Letters, and Stories Can Transform the Way You Think and Feel About Everything.

Treasure Hunting: Our Hearts and Grief

As Jesus continued down the road, a man ran up, knelt before him, and asked, “Good Teacher, what must I do to obtain eternal life?”

Jesus replied, “Why do you call me good? No one is good except the one God. You know the commandments: Don’t commit murder. Don’t commit adultery. Don’t steal. Don’t give false testimony. Don’t cheat. Honor your father and mother.”

“Teacher,” he responded, “I’ve kept all of these things since I was a boy.”

Jesus looked at him carefully and loved him. He said, “You are lacking one thing. Go, sell what you own, and give the money to the poor. Then you will have treasure in heaven. And come, follow me.” But the man was dismayed at this statement and went away saddened, because he had many possessions.

Looking around, Jesus said to his disciples, “It will be very hard for the wealthy to enter God’s kingdom!” His words startled the disciples, so Jesus told them again, “Children, it’s difficult to enter God’s kingdom! It’s easier for a camel to squeeze through the eye of a needle than for a rich person to enter God’s kingdom.”

They were shocked even more and said to each other, “Then who can be saved?”

Jesus looked at them carefully and said, “It’s impossible with human beings, but not with God. All things are possible for God.”

Peter said to him, “Look, we’ve left everything and followed you.”

Jesus said, “I assure you that anyone who has left house, brothers, sisters, mother, father, children, or farms because of me and because of the good news will receive one hundred times as much now in this life—houses, brothers, sisters, mothers, children, and farms (with harassment)—and in the coming age, eternal life. But many who are first will be last. And many who are last will be first.” Mark 10:17-31 (CEB)

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

I’ve been thinking a lot this past week about the experience we had here last Sunday morning. In case you missed it, would any of you like to share what happened? That’s right. We had a Spanish-speaking family visit us last Sunday—a husband and his wife and their two children, a boy and a little girl. They were a lovely family. As we communicated with them, difficult as that was, we learned that they were traveling from the East Coast to Texas. That they had gone to the East Coast for work, that this hadn’t worked out, and that they were returning to Texas, which is where they had originally travelled from. They were seeking help from us—help to ensure they had money for gas and, perhaps, a place to stop to rest. This was their story.

What if, though...what if the story they told was untrue? What if they were telling us a lie?

I returned late last night from Seattle. I was there for a conference of congregational developers and re-developers. These are pastors who are called to a place to either start new churches or to help lead with the revitalization of existing congregations. While I was there, I heard a lot of stories about some of these existing congregations around the ELCA—congregations stuck in the past or isolated within their church’s walls. Congregations who refused to look outward, to go out into the neighborhood. Unwilling to look for where the Holy Spirit might already be at work in their community. Congregations unwilling to be open-hearted.

As I sat there and listened to these difficult stories, all I could do was to reflect upon our experience here last Sunday. I felt this incredible sense of joy. More like pride, really, at how warmly you, the members of this congregation, welcomed this family. In fact, at times I felt overwhelmed by your response—at how you gave of yourselves and your own wealth so abundantly—with even a couple of you going to get cash to give. Or how you helped them pack up food from our pantry so generously and graciously. But, mostly, how you opened your hearts so openly. Without worry, which was the very thing we talked about last week. 

This was the first thing that remained with me from last week and, to be quite honest with you, this is what matters most--that you responded with such generosity and open-heartedness, trusting that God was calling you at that very moment to a deep place of generosity.

There was a second thing that stuck with me...something that left me wondering a little bit. As we packed them into their van, knowing that they had so little and that it was very likely that everything they owned was in this van, I began to wonder about whether I could survive with so little. Whether I could survive without all of my possessions. Without my stuff.

It’s that question of possessions that is central to our story this morning. Here we have a man—a rich man—who approaches Jesus. “What must I do to inherit eternal life?” He asks. What must I do to inherit eternal life?

Do you notice Jesus’ response? He recalls for the man several of the Ten Commandments—commandments that, if you recall from earlier this summer, come from what is often called the “second table” of commandments. The “first table” teaches us how we are to live in relationship to God. The second table—those Jesus reminds him of here—are the ones that teach us how we are to live in relationship with each other. Jesus tells him that he must keep these commandments.

“I’ve kept all of them—every one of them!” The man replies. Now, my initial thought is “What arrogance this man has!” Yet, if we read the text carefully, one notices that it seems that he is completely sincere. The opening verse says he came to Jesus and kneeled down before him. It would appear that he truly wanted to know. Jesus recognizes this sincerity. Our text reads that Jesus looked at him carefully and loved him. Loved him. 

And, then, Jesus told him to sell everything—all that he had. All of his riches, his great wealth. And to give the money to the poor. 

We must be careful here about what this text says to us. It’s easy to jump to the conclusion that being rich is sinful. Or that having wealth will keep us from being in God’s kingdom. After all, doesn’t Jesus go on just a few verses later that it will be easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for a rich man to enter into the kingdom? But, that’s not the message of this story. When Jesus asks him to dispose of all of his stuff, then man turns and walks away, grieving. Grieving, our story says, because he had many possessions.

You see, Jesus knew that the big roadblock to his man being in relationship with both God and with his neighbor was his stuff. It was the emotional investment he had in his stuff—an emotional attachment so deep that, to even consider giving it all away, left him grieving. 

We live in a consumeristic culture. A culture that teaches us that there is a value in things, in our possessions. That we should strive for these things. Our status is so often connected to how much stuff we have. And we, very easily, can become emotionally attached to our stuff. If you’ve ever had to take a cell phone or a Game Boy or some other electronic device away from a teenager or a child, and then witnessed the accompanying grief, you know exactly what I’m talking about.  

We, adults, aren’t much better. We all wrestle with this—with the emotional attachment we have to our stuff and the investment we have in wealth and getting more and more of it. At the core of this is grief. Just like the rich man, who grieved over the idea of giving up all his wealth and turning his entire life over to God, we also grieve over the thought that we have to give it all up to be in relationship with God.

I wonder, though, if this is really the message here. Think about it. God doesn’t hate stuff. In fact, matter matters to God. Because God is all about creating stuff. About making new things out of the old. About making more stuff.

I wonder if the invitation for us is to think differently. Instead of feeling guilty and ashamed about our stuff, what if we were to rethink our relationship to it and wonder how, through our connection to things, we might better connect to our neighbors. To wonder how we might pick something up and consider how we might use it for our neighbor. To clean out that closet and give our clothes to a neighbor or to Goodwill for someone else to use—someone who, perhaps, doesn’t have the abundance we do. 

Or, perhaps, it’s an invitation to pick something up and reflect upon what the cost was to get it to our houses. About the wages paid to the person who made it. About the cost to the environment to create it or to dispose of it.  And then to consider an alternative that isn’t as costly to our created world.

Or maybe it’s even a way for us to deepen our relationship with others by sharing the richness of the emotional attachment we might have to something—the expensive grand piano that has been passed down in your family and the memories we have of those who played it. Or the Bible that, in my family, for example, was given to me by my grandmother who painstakingly tracked all of the births, marriages, and deaths in our family over the past several generations.

Perhaps, in his challenge to the rich man, Jesus isn’t trying to guilt or shame him, or us, but to inspire generosity and to give us a sense of freedom. To lift the weight off of us from all our stuff and to help us see that true life doesn’t come from that stuff, but from our relationships. Our relationships with others. And, particularly, our relationship with God.

Because God is the agent of our saving. We aren’t. And our stuff certainly isn’t. God is. Giver of the greatest gift to us—the gift of life in Jesus. Not a life of grief over losing our possessions. But a life of joy in gaining God’s kingdom. And a life that is reoriented away from our possessions to one of free and generous stewardship, serving God. Where our money and wealth are agents of that service.

We give thanks for God’s gifts. May God give us such clean hearts and right spirits in which to use them. Amen. 

Preached August 26, 2018, at Grace & Glory Lutheran Church, Goshen, KY.
Pentecost 14
Readings: Mark 10:17-31 (Psalm 51:10-12)

Treasure Hunting: Our Hearts and Worry

“Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moth and rust consume and where thieves break in and steal; but store up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where neither moth nor rust consumes and where thieves do not break in and steal. For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.

“The eye is the lamp of the body. So, if your eye is healthy, your whole body will be full of light; but if your eye is unhealthy, your whole body will be full of darkness. If then the light in you is darkness, how great is the darkness!

“No one can serve two masters; for a slave will either hate the one and love the other, or be devoted to the one and despise the other. You cannot serve God and wealth.

“Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat or what you will drink, or about your body, what you will wear. Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothing? Look at the birds of the air; they neither sow nor reap nor gather into barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not of more value than they? And can any of you by worrying add a single hour to your span of life? And why do you worry about clothing? Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow; they neither toil nor spin, yet I tell you, even Solomon in all his glory was not clothed like one of these. But if God so clothes the grass of the field, which is alive today and tomorrow is thrown into the oven, will he not much more clothe you—you of little faith? Therefore do not worry, saying, ‘What will we eat?’ or ‘What will we drink?’ or ‘What will we wear?’ For it is the Gentiles who strive for all these things; and indeed your heavenly Father knows that you need all these things. But strive first for the kingdom of God and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well.

“So do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will bring worries of its own. Today’s trouble is enough for today.Grace and peace to you from God, our abundant Creator, and from our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ. Amen. Matt. 6:19-34 (NRSV)

Money. That is central to what we are talking about for the next three weeks. Money. Does this subject make you as uncomfortable as it makes me?

Our focus during this time will center around this overall theme of “treasure in heaven.” And, then, each week, we will look at a different text from each of the three synoptic gospels: Matthew, Mark and Luke. We’ll be looking at three different contexts, three different emphases, and then, in particular, three different challenges. Three different things that challenge us in our relationship with God and with money and, especially that challenge our generosity. These three things are worry, grief, and fear.

Does anyone here have a dollar bill on them? Or it can be a bill of any denomination? (In today’s cashless world, these is getting harder and harder to find, isn’t it?) When you look at the bill, what do you see? Amount of bill, former leader, words “In God We Trust.” 

In God We Trust. (Just a little bit of trivia here, but did you know that the requirement to use these words on every denomination of American currency was passed in 1956, not really that long ago.) Isn’t it a little ironic that, on the very thing that causes so much tension and conflict in our lives, in our relationships, in our work, and, yes, right here in our church--on the actual money we use day in and day out are these words: In God we trust. Because it is money and the power of money that is one of the things that we struggle with the most in our relationship with God. 

We worry about money constantly, don’t we? What worries you most about your money? We worry about how much we have. Or don’t have. We worry about the power it has in our lives. We worry about how much time we spend earning it. As we get older, we even worry about what we will do with it after we die. Money or our worry over money is one of the highest causes of anxiety and conflict in our relationships.

We worry constantly about money. It’s why Jesus talk about money ALL THE TIME. 

I really dislike preaching about money. Maybe it would be different if I had it all figured out. But, I don’t. And I worry about it. I come from a long line of worry-ers, in fact. And I have graciously passed my practice of worrying onto my son. It is just easy to worry over it, isn’t. This constant question of how much I should save. Or how much, especially for us in the church, I should give away.

And, then, as though the answer was easy, Jesus simply says, “Don’t worry!” Yeah, right!

And, yet, it really comes down to whether or not we believe the words we find on our own currency--the words, ”In God We Trust.”  Because to trust in God is to believe that there is enough in our world. That God cares abundantly for our world and has provided enough for each one of us. The word we often uses to talk about this is “providence,” God’s providence. To believe in God’s providence is to believe, no matter what, God will care for and protect us. That God will provide for us what we need. (Notice, I said need. Not want.) It’s what we pray for each time we say the Lord’s Prayer. “Give us this day our daily bread.” Notice that the focus in this prayer given to us by Jesus is on today. Not tomorrow, but today. Give us this day our daily bread.

Haven’t you experienced this? Haven’t you experienced God’s providence in your own life? I know I have. In my late 20’s, after my husband and I separated, I had physical custody of my son. It was expensive to pay for rent and utilities for us and for food and clothing for us all by myself. There were many times that my paycheck ran out days before my next payday and I had no idea where our next meal might come from. Where my next tank of gas might come from. Or how I might keep the lights on over our heads. And, yet, there was never a time that we didn’t have enough to survive. That somehow, something or someone would show up in our lives at just the right time with just what we needed. Coincidence? Maybe. But it happened so much then and throughout my life that it is way beyond coincidence. That I can attribute it only to God and God’s providence. That it is a God-thing.

God cares abundantly for our world. God has provided enough for everyone. What then, we might ask, about those who don’t have enough in their lives? About the poor? Or the disadvantaged? After all, we see them all the time here at Grace & Glory. Our food pantry clients. Others who come to us asking for money or for a tank of gas. If God provides enough for everyone, then, why are their people like this in our world.

The simple answer? Sin. Because sin tells us that there isn’t enough in our world. That there isn’t enough for everyone. Sin leads us to worry, to live in anxiety. Sin leads us to a mindset of scarcity. That we need to hold onto our stuff. Sin leads to hoarding. Sin separates us from right relationship with God.

“Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth…” Jesus says in our text today. “...[B]ut store up for yourselves treasures in heaven.”

Jesus tells us to “strive toward the kingdom.” To trust in God’s providence and to strive for the kingdom. To trust that God will care for us. That God has created enough for us and for everyone else. To stop worrying. And to move from a place of scarcity to a place of abundance. From an orientation of hoarding to an orientation of sharing.  To think, “If I have too much, it means that someone else probably doesn’t have enough.”  

At the beginning of our service today, you made a list of things that belong to you. Pick one now. Think about how you might use that one thing right now to help other people or to worship God. 

When we change our heart. Or our minds. When we change our orientation from one of scarcity to one of abundance and of trust in God’s providence, this creates a whole new appreciation of how we hold things in common with each other. It is a system of economics that we may not understand or that might not seem at all reasonable according to the ways of our world, but it is one that, as Walter Brueggemann writes, will eventually “blow our socks off.”  

Because God is abundant. God is gracious. And God loves us and proves that love for us on the cross. That, my friends, is our treasure. That is what are to seek and what we are to strive for--a deeper faith in a God who has given us everything. Everything. Including God’s very own life. For us and for all people.

Strive first for the kingdom of God and God’s righteousness. And all these things will be given to you as well. Amen.

Preached August 19, 2018, at Grace & Glory Lutheran Church, Goshen, KY
13th Sunday after Pentecost
Readings: Matthew 6:19-34 (Psalm 51:6-9)

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: Daring to Act

Naomi her mother-in-law said to her, “My daughter, I need to seek some security for you, so that it may be well with you. Now here is our kinsman Boaz, with whose young women you have been working. See, he is winnowing barley tonight at the threshing floor. Now wash and anoint yourself, and put on your best clothes and go down to the threshing floor; but do not make yourself known to the man until he has finished eating and drinking. When he lies down, observe the place where he lies; then, go and uncover his feet and lie down; and he will tell you what to do.” She said to her, “All that you tell me I will do.”

So she went down to the threshing floor and did just as her mother-in-law had instructed her. When Boaz had eaten and drunk, and he was in a contented mood, he went to lie down at the end of the heap of grain. Then she came stealthily and uncovered his feet, and lay down. At midnight the man was startled, and turned over, and there, lying at his feet, was a woman! He said, “Who are you?” And she answered, “I am Ruth, your servant; spread your cloak over your servant, for you are next-of-kin.” He said, “May you be blessed by the Lord, my daughter; this last instance of your loyalty is better than the first; you have not gone after young men, whether poor or rich. And now, my daughter, do not be afraid, I will do for you all that you ask, for all the assembly of my people know that you are a worthy woman. But now, though it is true that I am a near kinsman, there is another kinsman more closely related than I. Remain this night, and in the morning, if he will act as next-of-kin for you, good; let him do it. If he is not willing to act as next-of-kin for you, then, as the Lord lives, I will act as next-of-kin for you. Lie down until the morning.”

So she lay at his feet until morning, but got up before one person could recognize another; for he said, “It must not be known that the woman came to the threshing floor.” Then he said, “Bring the cloak you are wearing and hold it out.” So she held it, and he measured out six measures of barley, and put it on her back; then he went into the city. She came to her mother-in-law, who said, “How did things go with you, my daughter?” Then she told her all that the man had done for her, saying, “He gave me these six measures of barley, for he said, ‘Do not go back to your mother-in-law empty-handed.’” She replied, “Wait, my daughter, until you learn how the matter turns out, for the man will not rest, but will settle the matter today.” Ruth 3:1-18 (NRSV)


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

Have you ever done something daring? 

Perhaps at the time, it didn’t seem so daring. But, as time passed and you began to reflect upon it, you realized that, at that time, it was a daring thing for you to do.

In 1992, I was the newly-elected president of my local union. We represented courtroom clerks throughout all of Los Angeles County. And my ascendance to the presidency wasn’t really something I planned to do. 

Before I was elected, my predecessor, the president of our local had become quite controversial. We hadn’t had a raise in over 2 years. And, in trying to publicly highlight our cause, he had done several things that had angered the presiding judge--a judge elected by all of the judges countywide to oversee the whole system. So, in response to the situation, I decided to write a letter to all of my colleagues throughout the main courthouse in downtown Los Angeles. Suddenly, one day our local president walked into my courtroom and invited me to step into an open position on our local’s executive board.

After giving it some thought, I agreed. Perhaps, I shouldn't have. Because soon, it became apparent that our local president was not only eccentric, but he was also embezzling funds from our treasury. Within 6 months, we had removed him from office. It was then that I found myself elected president, even though I never planned it that way. 

Now, none of this might seem very daring. And, it really didn’t to me at the time. But, over the next four years, as we continued to lack a wage increase, it was under my leadership that, in November 1997, 95% of the courtroom clerks walked off the job across the county, on strike for 10 days. I found out later that it was the first time in a quarter century that any labor group had ever walked out on a judicial system across the U.S. It was a daring act for us. But, it didn’t seem daring at the time. Because for us, it was a matter of survival. A matter of financial survival.

It is this type of daring act--a matter of survival--that is central to our story today. We’ve heard over the past two weeks of the vulnerability of Ruth and her mother-in-law, Naomi. Naomi, who had moved to another country--to Moab--with her husband because of a famine in Bethlehem. Then, the birth of two sons and the eventual death of all of the men in her life--her husband and her two sons. We heard of her vulnerability as a widow and a childless woman. And, of the vulnerability of her daughter-in-law, Ruth. Also, a widow and childless. We heard of the decision to return to Naomi’s homeland--to Bethlehem. And, of Ruth’s decision to accompany her--just one of many examples of Ruth’s hesed. Her love in action for Naomi. A decision that doubled Ruth’s vulnerability--now, not only a widow, but also an immigrant. 

Over the past 2 weeks, we have also seen a shift in our story--a shift from the sense of loss and emptiness experienced by Naomi and Ruth, to the beginning of hope. Hope that appeared in the person of Boaz. A landowner. A family member. Naomi’s kin.

In today’s episode of our story, we see those buds of hope blossom. Now, if you read between the lines of our story, you quickly see that this is a story of seduction. Of a daring act. An act by Ruth that, one might think is completely out of character for her. An act that is counter-cultural. One that most people would raise their eyebrows at. But it is a daring act by a woman who is desperate to secure her future and that of her mother-in-law.

It is the evening at the end of a successful harvest. You can imagine that there was food flowing. And, especially, that there was drink also flowing. Boaz is, our text says, in a “good” mood. Another translation says that he was contented. He curls up next to a grain pile and falls asleep. 

As this has been going on, Naomi has been instructing Ruth. Take a bath. Put on some perfume. Wear something nice. And, then, go down to the threshing floor. Don’t make yourself known to Boaz until he has finished eating and drinking and has lain down. Then, and only then, go to him, uncover his feet, and lie down. He will tell you what to do next.

So, Ruth does it. Everything that Naomi tells her to do. Except she doesn’t wait for Boaz to say anything. Instead, Ruth--kind, sweet, loyal Ruth--proposes marriage! This is what the phrase “spread out your robe over your servant” means. Ruth proposes marriage to Boaz, who we know is substantially older than she.

Now, we need to step back for a moment to understand what is going on here. There is a custom at work in this story that we need to be aware of. In her proposal to Boaz, Ruth calls for him to fulfill his duty as a go-el. Go-el is a Hebrew word that means kinsman-redeemer. Under Israel’s law, the closest male relative is obligated to redeem his kin who have fallen onto hard times. So, as she proposes marriage to Boaz, Ruth is saying, “Do your duty!” Do what you are obligated to do as my go-el, as my kinsman-redeemer. Save me!

Now, to our 21st century ears, this may be a little challenging. We think of women as independent today and having their own choices in terms of their future. This is not what ancient Israel was like, however. In this patristic society, women who were widowed or childless were vulnerable. This was why the law was implemented in the first place--to ensure that women who were vulnerable were protected. They relied upon their go-el, their kinsman-redeemer to do this.

It is, however, a daring act for Ruth to make the first move. To call on Boaz to offer her redemption. Yet, there was also redemption for Boaz here. It’s apparent from our story that Boaz is presumably an older man. Ruth could have chosen others--she’s still a young woman. Yet, she chooses him. So, for Ruth and for Boaz, there is mutual redemption.

This Wednesday evening, you have an opportunity to engage in a daring act, just like Ruth. We will gather with our siblings in Christ at Shiloh Methodist. We’ll begin at 6 p.m. with a potluck dinner. This will be followed at 6:30 p.m. by a conversation--a Sacred Conversation--around the topic of immigration. This is a controversial topic in our world today. It is a complex issue. It is a divisive issue--an issue that has separated and continues to divide us to the point where we no longer talk with each other about it, but we talk at each other about it. How do we change the conversation? How do we break through our division and begin to hear each other? 

We have the opportunity this Wednesday. An opportunity to listen to each other respectfully. To hear and to identify our common values and, then, to find a way forward. It is an opportunity that is counter-cultural. It pushes back against a culture that says “it’s my way, or the highway!” It pushes back against a culture that demands that my answer is the only right answer. To choose to be there--to participate in this Sacred Conversation--is a daring act. It takes courage to step out of the mold that our culture teaches us to follow--a mold that will only continue to divide us. Will you be courageous? Will you be bold and daring? Will you come and participate?

I hope you will come. In truth, I dare you to come. Because it is out of daring acts, that redemption comes.  And blessing. We see it already in our story today. And we will see it in full next week. And we know it as children of God--children of a God who sent a Kinsman-Redeemer to us to save us. To redeem us. And, who out of that redemption, gives us abundant blessing.

So, be bold. Be daring. And trust that God will be at work among us. And that God will give us the courage to dare to act. Amen.

Preached Sunday, August 5, 2018, at Grace & Glory Lutheran Church, Goshen, KY.
Pentecost 11
Readings: Ruth 3:1-18 (Matthew 7:7-8).

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)