Where You Go I Will Go
Where You Go I Will Go
Ruth 1: 1-18
November 18, 2012
Every week, National Public Radio shares a story featured from the Story Corp project, a program that records the everyday tales of people in this country. This week, the story was about two men–Denny and Larry–who were married to the same women—Sharon–at different times in their lives. One year, Sharon said to Denny, “I want you to go to Larry’s house with me for Thanksgiving”. Denny was incredulous—why do you want me to go to your ex’s house for Thanksgiving? But, he finally agreed to go—for one hour. Denny and Larry—to their surprise—hit it off immediately. And they quickly became best friends.
When Sharon got sick, and was dying, Larry called Denny every day. And, he asked for forgiveness from Sharon for his failings as a husband. Denny and Sharon were important to him, and he cared for them.
Larry still calls Denny every day—they are bonded. They are family to each other. Denny said this to Larry, “When you lose someone you love it creates a hole in your soul, and you (Larry) helped fill that. You are more like a brother than a friend.”
Larry and Denny continue to spend Thanksgiving together every year. They are family to each other.
Their story reminds me of the story of Ruth and Naomi we heard this week. Ruth and Naomi were nothing to each other—they had no blood family relationship, no reason to remain together after the death of their husbands. Yet, in this story they chose each other.
The story of Ruth and Naomi is sweet, isn’t it? A young widow chose to go with her widowed mother- in-law back to her country of birth. It’s a sweet story, a story of hope, a story of choosing one’s own family. But, oh my goodness, it’s so much more than sweet. It is intensely radical. So, let’s put some context into this story.
Naomi came to Moab with her husband and sons when there was a famine in Judah. Leaving was the only way they thought they could survive the famine. Soon after they arrived in Moab, Naomi’s husband died, and then Naomi’s sons married Moabite women. Naomi’s sons and daughters-in-law cared for Naomi in this foreign land, but then the sons died unexpectedly, leaving the three women on their own.
What else could Naomi do but return to her hometown of Bethlehem in Judah, and hope for the kindness of a relative there. She had no reason to stay in Moab, and she had no expectation that her daughters in law—Orpah and Ruth—would stay with her. She could not provide for them. They would have to go back to their family’s home, and hope for provision and protection there. These women’s lives were at the mercy of men. The patriarchy was strong, and determined their survival.
It was perfectly reasonable that Naomi would tell these women to go home. They had no hope and no future in Judah.
And yet, Ruth insisted on accompanying Naomi, saying, “Where you go I will go; where you lodge I will lodge. Your people will be my people, and your God, my God. Where you die, I’ll die there too and I will be buried beside you. I swear—may God be my witness and judge—that not even death will keep us apart.”
Most of the stories about women in the scripture are about sisters or mothers and daughters. They are about family members relating to each other. Unlike most of the stories we hear about women in the scriptures, these women had no reason to relate to each other. They had no reason to stay together. Despite this, Ruth made vows to Naomi, promising to be with her for better or worse, in sickness and in health, and not even death would tear them apart. This is a strong covenant—stronger even than marriage, it was a soul connection that not even death would end. This young Ruth grafted herself to Naomi—agreeing to take on Naomi’s Jewish tradition, and be a stranger in a foreign land.
Ruth had to realize what she was risking to be with Naomi. She had to realize that although the famine in Judah was over, she and Naomi still could starve to death, without a patriarch to look after them. She was risking her life to go with Naomi. There was something powerful between these two women that bound them together—something even more powerful than a sibling relationships or a parent child relationship.
We see a story similar to that in Ruth’s great grandson, David and his friend Jonathan. David was secretly friends with Jonathan, the son of King Saul, the son of the King that hated David, and was trying to kill him. These two men became friends, and became so close that they knit their souls to each other. Jonathan gave up his royal status, to be with David. They had a strong love, and intense bond, and like Ruth and Naomi, they bound themselves to each other.
Ruth and Naomi chose each other over patriarchy, over culture and expectations. So did Jonathan and David—they chose each other over country and family. They found their family and their home in the bonds they created with each other, in their souls knit together in life and death.
This is a radical story, and we can imply many things about these relationships from their stories. But friends, it only gets more interesting. Let’s look at this impassioned speech from Naomi to Ruth. Keep in mind this patriarchal system in which these women lived. Naomi said, “Go back my daughters, back to your mother’s home.” Back to your mother’s home. It seems odd, that the mother’s home is stressed when the father and brothers were the protectors.
Additionally, the word for daughters here is the female equivalent in Hebrew of “redeemer.” Typically the words for “son” and “father” come from the word “redeemer”, but Naomi used this unusual feminine form of the Hebrew to refer to these women as “redeemers.” “Go back, my redeemers, back to your mother’s house.”
To hear the story in this way, one is left to wonder, why didn’t Orpah stay with her Naomi? Naomi spoke out of both sides of her mouth—she told Orpah and Ruth to go back to their family, but then called them her redeemers. She gave them plenty of reasons to leave and one compelling, radical reason to stay. These women could be her salvation.
Naomi, in her speech, also dared to align herself with the notable men of history like Job who questioned God. She dared to challenge God for her undeserved suffering. She dared to say that the Lord had turned against her, she dared to challenge God, and to call God out for her suffering.
There are so many things that makes this story radical—the strong connection between these unrelated woman, the creating of new words and new structures and the choosing to be together in a world where their relationship was quite unlikely, and where the depth of their relationship was unknown. Just like Jonathan and David. And in many ways, just like Denny and Larry.
We live in a time where we know what it means to create new structures. We know what it’s like for our structures of birth to be ill-fitting. We know what it’s like to choose a different path than what has been prescribed for us. We know that many do not understand these new structures and paths that we have created, chosen, embodied.
And we know what it’s like to suffer for opting out of the prescribed structures. We felt that last week when Eastern District chose to end a symbolic dialogue with us. We have again lost relationship with a structure that does not understand us. That’s sad in so many ways. But, this week, when I came into the church building and there was Interfaith Hospitality activity downstairs, and the Museum of Art and Peace activity upstairs, I was filled up. We at GMC chose a different path, and we suffered some institutional consequences for it—we lost affiliation with two conferences and a denomination. Some of us even suffered with some strained family relationships. But, we gained so much here in what has been created in this community. We have gained a new family, a new system, and lots of room to imagine and dream.
Today we look at the story of Ruth and Naomi—we recognize a bit of ourselves in Naomi’s Job-like sentiments. We recognize the questions and bitterness of her unjust suffering.
We look at this story and recognize the new relationship that Ruth and Naomi forged. We recognize these relationships because we have created these new systems—perhaps in whom we’ve chosen as life partners, or the priorities we’ve set for ourselves, or the church we’ve chosen to attend.
We recognize this story in the ways that we’ve used language differently, or changed language—to express the expansive nature of God and these new systems we’re building.
We also recognize this story as we leave our familiar territory and go into a world unknown. We join together to go to new places, and don’t know what we find on the other side. But we know that we are together in it.
A few weeks ago in a sermon, I said that folks outside of this congregation would say that we are radical, but we don’t feel that way most of the time.
But, as we look at this story of Ruth and Naomi, and see a bit of ourselves in it, we can recognize just how radical these new structures and relationships are here. But from these new things—created by the inspiration of the Holy Spirit—we have found a home, a family, and people that love us and care for us. And perhaps, just like this relationship, created by Ruth and Naomi—will come generations of women and men committed to the radical gospel we do our best to follow.
Let us love the Lord our God with all our heart, soul, mind and strength, and our neighbor as ourselves. And let us continue to do that in creative, radical ways, inspired like Naomi and Ruth, Jonathan and David, Denny and Larry, and all those people we know personally, both within and outside of this congregation. AMEN.