Love Story
She dropped to her knees, then bowed her face to the ground. “How does this happen that you should pick me out and treat me so kindly — me, a foreigner?” Boaz answered her, “I’ve heard all about you — heard about the way you treated your mother-in-law after the death of her husband, and how you left your father and mother and the land of your birth and have come to live among a bunch of total strangers. God reward you well for what you’ve done — and with a generous bonus besides from God, to whom you’ve come seeking protection under his wings.” She said, “Oh sir, such grace, such kindness — I don’t deserve it. You’ve touched my heart, treated me like one of your own. And I don’t even belong here!” (Ruth 2:10-13)
Two figures crested the horizon of the Judean desert. One, an old widow; the other, a young one. Wrinkles crevice the face of the first; desert dust powders the cheeks of both. Ten years earlier a famine had driven Naomi and her husband out of Bethlehem. They’d left their country and immigrated to enemy territory – Moab. There they found fertile soil to farm, and girls for each of their two sons to marry. But then tragedy struck. Naomi's husband died. So did her sons. So, Naomi resolved to return to her hometown of Bethlehem. Ruth, one of her daughters-in-law, was determined to go with her. No money. No possessions. No children. Nothing.
In the twelfth century B.C., a woman's security was found in her husband, and her future was secured by her sons. These two widows had neither; they'd have been lucky to find a bed at Father Joe’s Villages. And although we may be three thousand years from Ruth, our circumstances aren’t really that much different – hopes the size of a splinter, and solutions as scarce as water in the desert. Drought, doubt, debt and disease. It’s a war zone out there, and we ask ourselves if grace actually happens to sick moms, unemployed dads, and penniless widows from “Moab.”
The women shuffled into the village and set about to find some food. Ruth went to a nearby field to scavenge enough grain to make some bread for herself and her mother-in-law. Enter Boaz. Now picture a guy straight out of GQ: square jaw, wavy hair, biceps that flex, pecs that pop, teeth that sparkle and pockets that jingle. His education? Ivy. Jet? Lear. Farm? Extremely profitable. House? Sprawling and paid for. He had no intention of interrupting his charmed, bachelor lifestyle by getting married. But then he saw Ruth. She wasn't the first immigrant to forage grain from his fields, but she was the first to steal his heart. Her glance caught his for a moment, and a moment was all it took.
As fast as you can turn a page in your Bible, Boaz learned her name, story and eHarmony status. He upgraded her workstation, invited her for supper and told his manager to send her home happy. In a word, he gave her grace. At least that’s the word Ruth used: "Oh sir, such grace, such kindness – I don’t deserve it. You've touched my heart, treated me like one of your own. And I don't even belong here." (Ruth 2:13) That evening, Ruth left with thirty pounds of grain and a smile she couldn't wipe off her face. When she arrived home, such as it was, Ruth told Naomi about her adventure and Naomi recognized the name. And then she recognized the opportunity. "Boaz . . . Boaz,” she mumbled as she drummed her fingers on their meager table. “That name sounds familiar. Hmmmmm. That’s it! Now I remember. He's Rahab's boy! Ruth, Boaz is one of our cousins!" And then Naomi's head began to spin with possibilities.
This being harvest season, Boaz would be eating dinner with the men and spending the night on the threshing floor to protect his crop from thieves. So Naomi told Ruth, "Wash and perfume yourself, and put on your best clothes. Then go down to the threshing floor, but don't let him know you are there until he has finished eating and drinking. When he lies down, note the place where he’s lying. Then go and uncover his feet and lie down. He will tell you what to do." (3:3-4) Pardon me while I wipe the steam from my readers. How did this midnight, Moabite seduction get into the Bible? Boaz – full bellied and sleepy; Ruth – bathed and perfumed. “He’ll tell you what to do?” Really? What was Naomi thinking?
She was thinking it was time for Ruth to get on with her life. Ruth was still grieving the death of her husband. When Naomi told her to "put on your best clothes," she used a phrase that describes the clothing worn after a time of mourning. In other words, as long as Ruth was dressed in black, Boaz – respectable man that he was – would keep his distance. New clothing, on the other hand, would signal Ruth's re-entrance into society by changing out of her clothes of sorrow. Kind of like a debutante. Of course, Naomi was also thinking about the law of the kinsman-redeemer. Here’s the law in a nutshell.
If a man died without children, his property was left to his brother – not his wife. This kept the land in the family, but it also left the widow vulnerable. So, to protect her, the law required the brother of the deceased to marry the childless widow. If, on the other hand, the deceased husband had no brother, his nearest male relative was to provide for the widow, but he didn't have to necessarily marry her. The law kept the property in the family and gave the widow protection and, sometimes, a husband. While Naomi and Ruth had no living children, they did have a cousin. Boaz. It was worth the gamble.
"So she [Ruth] went down to the threshing floor and did everything her mother-in-law told her to do. When Boaz had finished eating and drinking and was in good spirits, he went over to lie down at the far end of the grain pile." (vv. 6-7) Ruth lingered in the shadows, watching the men wander off to bed, one by one. Soon, laughter and conversation gave way to snoring. And that’s when Ruth made her move. She stepped carefully between the lumps of sleeping men in the direction of Boaz. Upon reaching him, she "uncovered his feet and lay down. In the middle of the night something startled the man, and he turned and discovered a woman lying at his feet." (vv. 7-8) “Startled” is probably an understatement.
This gesture was roughly equivalent to the giving of an engagement ring. "'I am your servant Ruth,' she said. 'Spread the corner of your garment over me, since you are a kinsman-redeemer.'" (v. 9) Pretty gutsy move because Boaz was under no obligation whatsoever to marry her; he was a relative, but not Elimelech’s brother. Besides, Ruth was a foreigner and he was a prominent landowner. She was a destitute alien and he was a local power broker. "Will you cover us?" she asked him. Boaz just smiled.
The next day, Boaz convened a meeting of ten city leaders. He summoned another man who, as it turned out, was actually a closer relative of Naomi than Boaz. And when Boaz told the closer relative about the property, the man jumped at his rights of first refusal and agreed to purchase the property. But then Boaz showed him the fine print: "On the day you buy the land from Naomi and from Ruth the Moabitess, you acquire the dead man's widow in order to maintain the name of the dead with his property." (4:5) The land, in other words, came with strings attached – an old widow woman and an illegal alien. The relative balked, and we have a hunch that Boaz probably knew that he would.
Ruth's story is your story; our story. We all wear robes of death. She buried her husband; we've buried our dreams, desires and aspirations. We're out of options. But our Boaz has taken note of us. Just as the landowner approached Ruth, Christ came to us "while we were yet sinners." (Rom. 5:8) He made the first move. "Will you cover us?" we asked, and Grace smiled. Not just mercy, mind you, but grace.
You see, grace goes beyond mercy. Mercy gave Ruth some food; grace gave her a husband and a home. Mercy gave the prodigal son a second chance; grace threw him a party. Mercy prompted the Samaritan to bandage the wounds of the victim; grace prompted him to leave his credit card as payment for the victim's care. Mercy forgave the thief on the cross; grace escorted him into paradise. Ruth's story is a picture of how grace happens in hard times. Jesus is your kinsman-redeemer. He spotted you in the wheat field, ramshackled by heartache and hurt, and he’s resolved to romance your heart. Feeling marginalized and discarded? Others may think so. Even you may think so. But God sees in you a masterpiece. He will do with you what Vik Muniz did with the garbage pickers of Gramacho.
Not that long ago, Jardim Gramacho was the Godzilla of garbage dumps. What Rio de Janeiro discarded, Gramacho took. And what Gramacho took, catadores scavenged. About three thousand garbage pickers scraped a living out of the rubbish, salvaging 200 tons of recyclable scraps daily. They trailed the never-ending convoy of trucks, trudging up the mountains of garbage and then sliding down the other, snagging scraps along the way. Plastic bottles, tubes, wires and paper were sorted and sold to wholesalers who stood at the edge of the dump. Across the bay, the Christ the Redeemer statue extends his arms toward Rio's million-dollar beachfront apartments along the Ipanema and Copacabana beaches. Tourists flock to the beaches; but no one comes to a dump. No one except for Vik Muniz.
This Brazilian-born artist convinced five garbage workers to pose for individual portraits. Suelem, an eighteen-year-old mother of two. Isis, a recovering drug addict. Zumbi, who read every book he found in the trash. Irma, who cooked discarded produce in large pots and then sold it. And Tiao, who organized the workers into an association. Muniz took photos of their faces then enlarged the images to the size of a basketball court. He and the five catadores outlined the facial features with trash. Bottle tops became eyebrows. Cardboard boxes became chin lines. Rubber tires overlaid shadows. Images gradually emerged from the trash. Muniz then climbed onto a 30’ platform and took new photos. The result? The second-most-popular art exhibit in Brazilian history, exceeded only by the works of Picasso. Vik donated the profits to the local garbage pickers' association, and treated Gramacho with grace.
Grace does that. God does that. Grace is God walking into your world with a sparkle in his eye and an offer that's hard to resist. "Sit still for a bit. I can do wonders with this mess of yours." Believe his promise. Trust it. Cling like a barnacle to every hope and covenant. Imitate Ruth and then get busy. Go to your version of the grain field and get to work. This is no time for inactivity or despair. Off with the mourning clothes. Take some chances; take the initiative. You never know what might happen. Ruth's troubled life helped give birth to grace incarnate. Who's to say yours won't do the same?
Grace,
Randy
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