From Emptiness to Fullness (Sermon)

“From Emptiness to Fullness”

The Book of Ruth

Allen Huff

Jonesborough Presbyterian Church

 10/2/16

         Famine has taken a grim hold on Judah. Bethlehem, literally “House of Bread,” has become an empty cupboard. Desperate, Elimelech packs up his wife, Naomi, their two sons, Mahlon and Chilion, and what’s left of their belongings, and moves to Moab.

Moab is a place of last resort, like Tarshish, or Samaria, or, I don’t know, Nebraska. Moving to Moab means crossing the tracks. It means trading one kind of empty for another. For Elimelech, though, Moab is the difference between feeding his children and watching them starve.

         Elimelech and family live in Moab for ten years. During that time Mahlon and Chilion reach marrying age, and each takes a Moabite bride. This may be their grandparents’ worst nightmare, but these two are at home in Moab as they never were in Bethlehem. The story doesn’t give us a timeline, but one day Naomi turns around and her life empties out, again. Elimelech, Mahlon, and Chilion have all died, leaving Naomi to care for herself and two daughter’s-in-law, Ruth and Orpah.

         Years ago I saw a bumper sticker that said, “A Woman Without a Man Is Like a Fish Without a Bicycle.” Naomi would not have laughed. In her culture, a woman without a man was more like a fish without gills. Lacking the provision and protection of some male, a woman had to rely on begging, prostitution, or random good luck in order to stay alive. Naomi’s only chance is to return to Judah and hope that some male family member will take her in.

         Gathering her daughters-in-law, Naomi says, “Okay, girls. I’m going back home. There’s nothing for me here. You two go back to your daddies, and try to find new husbands who will care for you. God bless you and all that.”

         Orpah leaks a few crocodile tears, but turns and flees for the safety of her father’s house. Cut from different cloth, Ruth clings to her mother-in-law, and when Naomi tries to dissuade her, Ruth offers one of the most moving vows of faithfulness in all of literature: “Do not press me to leave you or to turn back from following you!” she says. “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 you’re as empty as Naomi, words of unambiguous devotion like that hit the famished palate of your heart like home cooking.

         Overwhelmed by gratitude, Naomi silently agrees.

         When the two arrive in Bethlehem, the women of town come out to meet them. ‘Is that Naomi?’ they say.

         Naomi, whose name means pleasant, stops and says, ‘No. From now on call me Mara [which means bitter], because God has dealt bitterly with me. When I left, I was full, but God has brought me back empty. Why call me pleasant anymore?’

         In spite of appearances, Naomi’s restoration has begun. She finds welcome. And Ruth finds Boaz.

Boaz is kinfolk, and as such he feels some duty toward Naomi. When he discovers who Ruth is, and sees her out gleaning in his fields alongside the other widows, orphans and poor folk, he tells his men, ‘Leave her alone. She’s family.’

         Older and wiser, Naomi begins to see what Ruth does not. Boaz has not only taken pity on Ruth, he has taken a shine to her. Faith, initiative, and gratitude for opportunity being as intimately intertwined as Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, Naomi hatches a scheme. She tells Ruth to clean up, put on fresh clothes, and go find Boaz at the threshing floor late that night.

Now, this is a family church, but we’re studying the Bible which contains everything from Finding Nemo to Gladiator to Fatal Attraction. Naomi’s innuendo is R-rated. She tells Ruth to go, late at night and uncover Boaz's feet. If you want to know what the Old Testament often means when referring to a man’s “feet,” Google it. Ruth is to uncover Boaz’s feet, and then lie down and wait.

“He will tell you what to do,” says Naomi.

         ‘I bet he will,’ snorts Ruth. ‘But if you say so, I’ll do it.’

         Ruth follows Naomi’s instructions, and when Boaz’s wine wears off, he wakes up. It’s midnight. He feels a draft. He looks down and sees a woman lying beside him.

         “Who are you?” he asks.

         “I’m Ruth,” she says, “your servant. Spread your cloak over me, because you are next-of-kin.” Ruth is telling Boaz that he is bound by custom to marry her and make her a full-fledged member of the family.

         Boaz agrees, but there’s a hitch: There’s another man who is closer kin than he is.

‘Ruth,’ he says, ‘you can sleep here, but scoot over that way just a little bit. I’ll deal with this tomorrow.’

Early the next morning, before the gossip tree awakes, Boaz gets up, gives Ruth some food, and sends her home.

         That day, Boaz calls the other kinsman, and some witnesses, to the city gate. ‘Listen,’ he tells the kinsman. ‘Naomi is selling Elimelech’s farm, and you’re the closest kin. Will you do what’s right and buy the land?’

         Reaching for his checkbook the man says, ‘Sure thing!’

         ‘Hold on,’ says Boaz. ‘You need to know that in buying this land, you also take responsibility for Elimelech’s widow, Naomi, and for Ruth, their son’s widow. She’s a charming young Moabite.’

         Boaz can see prejudice and self-interest working their dark magic in the man’s head. ‘You know,’ says the man, ‘I’ve got enough land. No sense in being greedy. If you want it, it’s yours.’

So the two men swap sandals to seal the deal, and just like that, Naomi and Ruth have a brand new future.

         In time Ruth conceives and bears a son. And all the women of Bethlehem celebrate saying that now Naomi has a son. They even name the child – Obed.

         Throughout the story, God is mentioned, but only as a kind of formality. “May the Lord bless you” is about as close as God seems to get. To me, one of compelling features of this ancient story is God lurking quietly around the edges like some nagging awareness that won’t go away. Then, in chapter 4, we learn something revealing: the child Obed will become the father of Jesse, and Jesse the father of David, the great king of Israel. David, Jesse, Obed, and Boaz are all named in the lineage of Jesus, the Bread of Life, born in Bethlehem, the House of Bread. In Jesus, fullness comes to an empty, suffering, and disoriented world. 

         Like Job, Ruth’s story says, Just when you think there’s no hope, no purpose in this life but emptiness, pay attention. Your life is not an end in itself! You are part of a story God is writing. Fear not, because God is with you, leading you, now and always.

Maybe emptiness is leading so many people to shoot their hopeless way through schools, malls, and workplaces. Maybe emptiness causes others of us to hold on to bigotries and fears that close our hearts toward neighbors who inhabit different color skin, who vote on different ballots, and who, if they worship at all, do so in ways unfamiliar to us. And when God feels like a quaint metaphor rather than creation’s lovingly-engaged Protagonist, emptiness can seem like the ultimate reality. But the rich and earthy story of Ruth illustrates that just as Boaz redeems and blesses Ruth and Naomi, God remains at work, redeeming emptiness and creating blessing and fullness for all creation.

Yes, life is hard, but your life is not an end in itself. Wherever you feel emptiness in your own life or in the world, instead of retreating from it, or trying to blame someone else for it, may you find strength to enter it and to live toward the new fullness for which that very emptiness is preparing you.