Jesu Juva
Ruth 1:1-19a
October 9, 2022
Proper 23C
On one Sunday—just once every three years—we get to hear the story of Ruth. (Or, at least the first part of that story.) Now, the story of Ruth is a beautiful story—a heartwarming story. If the book of Ruth were a made-for-tv movie, I suspect it would air on the Hallmark channel. The story of Ruth would fit right into the Hallmark Channel line-up—where tearful tragedies almost always end up with a heart-warming and happy ending—perhaps with a dash of romance tossed in.
Now, the irony is that Ruth’s story takes place during the time of the Judges. And if you’ve read through the book of Judges, then you know that wasn’t Israel’s finest period. In fact, those centuries were some of Israel’s darkest, bloodiest times. If the book of Judges were a made-for-tv movie, I suspect it would air on one of those stations where you can watch all those cop shows with car chases, and wrestling, and zombies, and men behaving badly. But the story of Ruth features none of that.
The story of Ruth features faithfulness—heartwarming, inspirational faithfulness. It starts out with a lovely family of four living in Bethlehem. But a famine forces the family to move east to Moab (which was Gentile territory). In Moab, the story takes a terrible turn. One tragedy strikes on the heels of another. The father of the family dies. Meanwhile, the two sons of the family get married to local Moabite women—one of whom is Ruth. But when those two sons also die, all that’s left of the family are the women—the mother-in-law, Naomi, and her two daughters-in-law, Ruth and Orpah. One old widow and two young widows—all pictured on the cover of today’s bulletin.
These women comprise a tragic and tearful trio. Not only have they lost the loves of their lives, but in the culture of those days, they had also lost their income, their security, their entire future. They were destitute. Naomi, the mother-in-law, resolves to go back home to Bethlehem. She has kin back home who will take care of her. Naomi urges her two daughters-in-law to go back to their families in Moab. There would be money and security and perhaps the chance to marry again. It was the logical thing to do under the circumstances. Orpah does what makes sense and leaves Naomi. But Ruth, with tears in her eyes, holds tight to Naomi saying, “Your people shall be my people, and your God my God.” In effect, Ruth says to Naomi, “I will never leave you.”
This is faithfulness, but it’s a strange kind of faithfulness. It can only be explained by the fact that Ruth—a gentile from Moab—had come to faith in the God of Israel. Naomi had become for her more than just a mother-in-law. She had now become a sister in the faith. Rather than make the safe choice and go back to her own family in Moab—where there would be honor and security and food and shelter—Ruth chooses to be faithful to Naomi—a bitter and broken woman. With the death of her husband and the death of her sons, Naomi herself was as good as dead. By all appearances God had forsaken her. But Ruth would not forsake her. In Bethlehem Ruth would be a foreigner with no family, no status, no nothing. Yet, she chose to go with Naomi. She chose a strange kind of faithfulness—a faithfulness that promised no reward, no benefits, no happy endings, but only years of emptiness and struggle.
I wonder how many of us would ever show that kind of faithfulness to others—a strange faithfulness—a sacrificial faithfulness? And remember, it was Ruth’s faith in God that led her to be faithful to Naomi. Who is your Naomi? The world is full of Naomi’s—people who are bitter and broken, difficult or depressed. These people usually get written off. These are the kids at school who are unpopular and different and friendless. These are your co-workers and neighbors—living empty lives, dealing with divorce or death, depression or dysfunction. These are members of your own family, brothers and sisters in Christ perhaps—who by the world’s standards are unsuccessful and unlucky. Who is your Naomi? Who needs your faithfulness?
It’s always easier not to get involved with these kinds of people. It’s far safer to keep your distance. Their problems, like Naomi’s problems, seem insurmountable. By nature we would much rather spend our social energy on friendly, like-minded people—well-to-do people—popular people who have their act together—people who make us feel good about ourselves—people who might mentor us and nurture us and help us to shine with success. We’ll hitch our wagons to people like that any day.
But Ruth teaches us a different way—a different and strange kind of faithfulness. Her devotion to a bitter and broken old widow like Naomi makes no sense. It’s outrageously illogical and strange. In fact, Ruth’s behavior reminds me of one of her descendants. This fellow—this descendant of Ruth’s—He had the strange habit of going around and displaying a similar, strange faithfulness—a crazy compassion—for people who were going nowhere—people with no future and no hope. This morning, in fact, you heard about how He got involved with ten hopeless, helpless lepers. The blind, the lame, the deaf, the disordered and dysfunctional and demon-possessed—the very people that everyone else had written off—Jesus Christ devoted Himself to them. To tax collectors and prostitutes—the unpopular and un-religious—to them Jesus showed this same strange faithfulness.
And to us—to us poor, miserable sinners who, like Naomi, were as good as dead. To us Jesus comes. To us who were cursed by God because of our sin. To us whose daily lives are filled with emptiness and despair. To us who are bitter and broken by nature—selfish and self-serving, sinners one and all—to YOU Jesus comes with His strange kind of faithfulness. He left the glories of His home on high to live among us and for us. The very sins that have left us so broken and bitter, are the very same sins that He took upon Himself and carried to Calvary’s holy mountain. Your sins became His sins at the cross. Your punishment and death became His. And now, by faith, His righteousness becomes your righteousness. The strange faithfulness Jesus shows to each of us is undeserved, unmerited, unheard of in the ways of this world.
This is why St. Paul minced no words in his final letter to Timothy, but plainly reminded him and us: “Remember Jesus Christ.” Remember Jesus Christ—the descendant of David—the Jesus who descended from that foreigner named Ruth. If we have died with Him [in holy baptism], we will also live with Him. . . . [and even] if we are faithless, He remains faithful. And that strange faithfulness—it endures forever, for you.
In your baptism the strange faithfulness of Jesus was first applied to you. In your baptism Jesus embraced you with the same faithfulness that bound Ruth to poor, old, empty Naomi. Come hell or high water, come feast or famine, Jesus will never let go of you. The nail scars in His holy hands bear witness to the strength of His grip and the depth of His love for you.
And because Jesus is holding onto you, your hands are free. Your hands are free for acts of faithfulness—strange faithfulness—radical, illogical, self-sacrificial acts of faithfulness. You can’t solve all the problems of all the hurting people around you. As a pastor I learned that a long time ago. I can’t fix the brokenness in people’s lives. Ruth knew that she couldn’t make everything better for Naomi. But what Ruth could do—and what you can do in Christ—is to show faithfulness, compassion, undeserved love. That’s why you are here. That’s why God hasn’t yet closed the curtain on the story of your earthly life. He needs you still—needs you to faithfully love and serve the broken, empty people He places in your path. God Himself will give the healing—as with the ten lepers. God Himself will get the results. God Himself will provide a happy ending that will far surpass anything you might ever see on the Hallmark channel.
And speaking of happy endings, your homework assignment for this week is to read the rest of the story of Ruth—the final three chapters—to see just how the Lord blessed Ruth and Naomi. In Jesus, there is a “happily ever after” in store for you as well—a resurrection ending where the music swells and the happy hugs begin. Only it’s no movie. It’s reality—resurrection life that has no end. Because the Lord’s faithfulness endures forever.
In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.
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