This morning’s second scripture lesson comes from the Old Testament, the Book of Ruth. You will remember that last week in our preaching life we spent some time with Ruth and her sister Orpah and their mother-in-law Naomi. In the sermon I talked the about very love of God taking shape in our love for another, in our relationships, in how we treat one another. When it comes to how we love God with all of our heart, soul, mind, and strength, and our neighbor as ourselves, there is a mandate from Jesus, an expectation that flows from his own ministry, that we would show our work. Like a 6th grader who learns to show her work on a math test, that there is more to learning than simply getting the right answer, so here in the community of faith, we feast on God’s grace through Word and Sacrament. Then we go forth as the hands and feet of Christ commissioned to love God, love one another, and love the stranger.

            This morning we come back to Ruth for more. In the reading from the second chapter that you are about to hear, there is not much about God. The Book of Ruth is somewhat unique in its place in the bible. Very little God-talk. Not a whole lot about the main characters in relationship with God, or their prayer life, or a life of worship. No theological expositions like those that come from the Apostle Paul. No prophetic announcements to God’s people like that of Isaiah, or Amos, or Micah. Some may argue that the book is little more than a place-holder. It’s canonical status comes because of Ruth’s place in the family tree somewhere between Abraham and David, and thus, her place in the lineage of Jesus. The book holds Ruth’s place in the bible, in the ancestry. As recorded in the Gospel of Matthew, “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 so as Professor Kathi Sakenfeld points out in her work on Ruth, God does not have a speaking role here. In this second chapter there is very little mention of God. You will hear an exchange of greeting, as in “the Lord be with you.”  And then you will hear Boaz invoke a blessing to Ruth, “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.” And one other listening point for your ear. The term is gleaning. For those of us who grew up far away from the farm, the dictionary defines “gleaning” as collecting the grain left from a field after the reapers have gone by. Collecting bit by bit. But here is the more important definition for you. Leviticus 19:9-10: “When you reap the harvest of your land, you shall not reap to the very edges of your field, or gather the gleanings of your harvest. You shall not strip your vineyard bare, or gather the fallen grapes of your vineyard; you shall leave them for the poor and the alien: I am the Lord your God.”

Ruth 2:1-13

            Ruth does continue to find favor in the sight of Boaz. Naomi continues to seek protection and future security for Ruth. In all of the customs, and the realities of power, and the dominance of patriarchy in the ancient world, Naomi concludes that Boaz is the best bet. Ruth then boldly approaches Boaz. In turn he conducts the necessary legal business to arrange for his marriage to Ruth. In the providence of God, she bears a son who is  named by the women of the neighborhood. His name was Obed. Naomi, now the grand-mother-in-law once removed (or something like that) becomes  nursemaid to the child. Obed becomes  the grandfather of King David. The Book of Ruth ends with that royal  lineage. It’s not quite “happily every after” nor is it really “yada, yada, yada.” It is more like that family tree page in big old bible that is passed from generation to generation, that flyleaf with the fancy writing, name after name after name. In most families, if those pages could talk, oh would you hear some family chatter!

            In this case, the banter about Aunt Ruth. She came from the other side of the tracks, from a foreign land, she came from Moab, you know. The one who just insisted that she come along with Oma Naomi. She came across the border before they built the fence. She held her own with those men out there in the fields. She could pick an ephah of barley quicker than anybody. Gleaning what she could just so she and Naomi would have something to eat. But find a persistent, strong woman who sticks up for herself and won’t back down, and you know there’s a group of men somewhere in the family just waiting to talk about her attitude. Cousin Ruth, she threw herself at Boaz. He didn’t have a chance. A lot of wine, a long day at work. One of those “threshing floor” relationships. She knew what she wanted, what she needed, and she went for it. And Old Uncle Boaz. It must have been her looks. She had him at hello. And Obed, Ruth’s child, do you know Ruth let the neighborhood women name that child. What was Boaz thinking?”

            Ruth. A strong-willed, independent, hard working, willing to claim a voice immigrant. A devoted to family, singularly  focused, loyal to a fault, physically capable, future-minded, security conscious kind of woman. I’m a bit surprised history has been so kind to her because many, many of us , wouldn’t like her. Yet, for all her independence, for everything in her that befit a self-made woman, for all that wisdom and faith deep within that encouraged her to find refuge under God’s wings, for all the uniqueness of Ruth celebrated by her name there in the family tree of the Son of God, she didn’t do it alone. More than her name makes the sacred page. She comes with a story, and she comes with other names like Naomi and Boaz, and she comes with the community’s practice of caring for the poor, the widowed, the orphaned. She comes with strangers who allowed her to work there in the field. She comes with a group of neighborhood women willing to celebrate with her and name her child.

            Telling Ruth’s story, it’s more than a place holder in the family tree. It is proclaiming something of what it means to find refuge, to thrive, to glean under God’s wings. Under God’s wings, where every face is of value. Every issue comes with a name. Every relationship is sacred. Where every time you show hospitality to a stranger you may be entertaining an angel without knowing it (Hebrews 13:20, or at least caring for someone there in the family tree of the Son of God. You can’t settle for Ruth alone there in the lineage of Matthew’s Gospel because when you talk about Ruth, then you have to mention the others. You have to tell the sacred story.

            Just a few nights ago I found myself sitting in the banquet hall of the Baptist Church of Lincoln Gardens up north on 27 just below New Brunswick. It was the annual awards banquet of the New Jersey Coalition of Inclusive Ministries. The evening was a celebration of church’s and synagogues who have made a difference when it comes to including folks with all sorts of disabilities. The room was packed. Young and old. Some in wheel chairs. Some blind. Some deaf. Others with developmental disabilities. As one does at such an event, I was leafing through the program while waiting for the festivities to start. Immediately I noticed the plethora of awards to be given and I looked at my watch. Just after dinner when the first of many awards was given, this one to a woman who organized a support group and a special mass in her church for parents of kids with special needs, both she and the person who nominated her were asked to speak. And I looked at my watch. They took the time right after her remarks to take a picture. And I looked at my watch. The rabbi who was serving as host had said they hoped to be done at 9:00pm. I think it was sometime after ten when it was finished. I looked at my watch.

            But the organizers, the leaders, those with a vision of what such ministry means, they knew better. Some days you advocate for justice and work on the big picture. Some days you lament how far short the church falls when it comes to living out a vision of the kingdom. And some days you just have to celebrate and tell the stories of what it means to find refuge together under God’s wings, where every face is of value, where every issue comes with a name, where every relationship is sacred. Some days you stop looking at your watch and yearn to claim your place in the sacred story.

            In the last thirty years Nassau Church has sponsored six refugee families and as you have heard we are about to welcome a seventh. I guess if you were just making a list, listing names and dates, a kind of geneology, the numbers wouldn’t be that impressive. But the list wouldn’t begin to tell it, would it? To tell about children and grandchildren now thriving, about a wedding in Niles Chapel, or the one man who took for an English name the name of church member, or the kids who graduated from Princeton High School, or the church family who provided a second mortgage on the purchase of house, or the celebrations when US citizenship came, or the apartment donated by a church member for 30 years, and the gracious cultural feasts held there over the years, or the incredibly difficulties of a first day of school for child after child after child, or a joy provided as a receptionist by a church member, and the travails of learning how to drive. A list just won’t do.....but...

            The Thai Family from Cambodia. 1980. The Tran family from Vietnam. 1984. The Ratkays from Hungary. 1989. The Kopanjas from Bosnia. 1994. The Nalics from Bosnia 1999. The Theils from the Sudan. 2003.

            You can’t settle for just a name, because then you have to mention others, so many others. You have to tell the sacred story of what it means to find refuge in the shelter of God’s wings. Tell the story and yearn to find your place in it.   

 

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