Boaz, Ruth, and So-and-So

Wow. I suck. This is my first blog post since June. That's just awful.

And, with that little bit of self-loathing out of the way...I offer the text of my sermon from last Sunday. The lectionary passages were Ruth 3:1-5, 4:13-17; Psalm 127; Hebrews 9:24-28; and Mark 12:28-34. I chose to focus on the story of Ruth. Enjoy!

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It’s only been in the last few years that I’ve become familiar with the story of Ruth. I’ve been attending church since I was 2 years old, but, for whatever reason, you don’t hear that one in Sunday school very often. I got a lot of Adam and Eve, a little Noah and the Ark, some Abraham and Joseph and Moses and Joshua and Samson, some David and Goliath, and a whole lot of Jesus, but no Ruth. All I remember about Ruth from my childhood is that I thought Boaz was a funny name.

Now that I’ve studied it a bit, I find it to be a very compelling story. And I still think Boaz is a funny name.

I want to spend some time this morning focusing on the story of Ruth, and especially on the part between the two passages we read.

In chapter 3, we find Naomi advising Ruth to go to Boaz’s party, and – without going into too much detail – to offer herself to him, to let him that she’s available for marriage and that she’s interested. Ruth follows Naomi’s instructions, and the story tells us that Boaz is overwhelmed by Ruth’s love. He tells her he wants to marry her, but there’s another relative who has the first option.

So the next day, Boaz arranges a meeting with the closer relative and the elders of the town. I think Boaz’s approach is interesting: He first presents an opportunity to buy a piece of land. He tells the man, “There’s this piece of land, and it’s yours if you want it.” The guy says, “Sure, I’ll take it.” Then Boaz introduces Ruth; he says, “Oh, by the way, you also get to marry Ruth.”

That makes the man pause. He already has wives and children, and he doesn’t want to jeopardize their inheritance by fathering more children with another wife. So he declines, and then Boaz marries Ruth. As the story ends, we find Boaz and Ruth having a son, Obed, and we learn that, just a couple of generations later, David comes from this line.

It’s a really beautiful story, one of the more romantic stories you’ll find in the Bible, and I’d like to share a couple of thoughts about it.

First, let me point out that the closer relative isn’t named in the story. Everybody else’s name is mentioned. We learn the name of Ruth’s sister-in-law, Orpah, even though she’s gone from the story before the first chapter ends. We learn the names of Naomi’s husband and sons, even though they’re gone before the story even begins. But the language used to introduce to introduce this closer relative is basically the Hebrew equivalent of “old so-and-so.”

Here’s why I find that interesting: When Boaz presented him with the opportunity to marry Ruth, this closer relative decided that Ruth just wasn’t worth his time and trouble. He stripped Ruth of her worth; he made his assessment, and found her to be insignificant. But then the writer of the story turns the tables and says, “You don’t need to worry about who this guy is – he’s nobody. That’s just old so-and-so.”

Now, we can all relate to Ruth in this story. Sometimes we’re the ones being sized up by so-and-so. Sometimes we hear voices that define us by our failures, voices that deny us our value, voices that strip us of any worth or significance.

The writer of the story of Ruth teaches us that those voices just don’t matter – when it’s all said and done, they’re the ones who are insignificant and not worth our time. It doesn’t matter what package they come in. Maybe it’s a parent or teacher or other authority figure who has belittled us. Maybe it’s a self-righteous relative or neighbor who points out all the things we do wrong. The voice of so-and-so might come from the fancy suit and slick hair of a politician or a televangelist.

So-and-so might determine we’re worthless based on where we live, what we look like, what we have, what we don’t have. It doesn’t matter, because so-and-so does not have the last word.

Ruth’s story doesn’t end with so-and-so’s rejection. That only opened the door for her to be redeemed by Boaz. Ruth was loved by Boaz, and that is what mattered. It’s the same for us. Whenever so-and-so tries to strip us of our value, we can reject that rejection and cling to the reality that we are redeemed by the Lover of our souls. God calls us valuable, and that trumps any and every voice that would say otherwise.

A few years ago, a great independent film called “Little Miss Sunshine” got a lot of Oscar buzz. The movie was about a seven-year-old beauty pageant contestant named Olive. Olive was not exactly pageant material; she was kind of plain and a little chubby, and wore glasses. There’s a moment in the movie, after Olive’s dad tells her she shouldn’t have any ice cream because of her weight, when she starts to doubt herself. She asks her grandfather if she is pretty, and he assures her, “You are the most beautiful girl in the world.” It’s a really touching moment that propels her through some very difficult times as she and her family travel to the pageant.

One of my best friends in the world is a guy who lives in Lexington. He’s visited here with me before. His name is Caleb. I met him a few years ago when he was spending the summer in the Tri-Cities as a missionary, and we’ve been friends ever since.

Caleb is probably the least pretentious person I’ve ever met; I don’t know anyone else so comfortable in their own skin. Caleb wears thrift store clothes; I don’t think I’ve ever seen him buy a new article of clothing in all the years I’ve known him. He walks around in flip-flops and an old, red toboggan pretty much year-round. He has a big, long beard. And people seem to automatically gravitate to Caleb; I’ve never introduced him to anyone who didn’t feel immediately comfortable around him.

I think this is because Caleb has a strong sense of who he is and where his worth comes from – and I wish I could be more like that.

So, sometimes we’re Ruth in this story. But if we’re honest, I think we have to admit that we sometimes play the part of so-and-so. We make judgments about the people around us based on any number of differences. Maybe, like Ruth, they are foreigners. Maybe they just don’t look like us.

Maybe we define them by their struggles. In a song called “I Repent,” Derek Webb once wrote, “I repent … for the way I believe that I’m living right by trading sins for others that are easier to hide.” I wonder, how often do we define people by their sins just because their sins are more obvious than ours? How quick are we to define a drug addict by his addiction?

I know I have done this, even recently. We have had some trouble with theft in our neighborhood recently, and several elderly neighbors have been victimized. It was no secret who was responsible, although it took a while for the police to build enough of a case to make an arrest. I would occasionally see the person responsible, and – to be perfectly honest with you – I can’t tell you some of the things I said to myself about that person, because they’re not appropriate words to share up here.

I forgot that the God who loves me and calls me valuable, also loves him and calls him valuable. I forgot to see him through God’s eyes. Instead, I devalued him; I wrote him up as an addict and a thief. For that, I have had to repent.

I mentioned my friend Caleb a few minutes ago. Caleb is currently in the process of publishing his first book, also called “I Repent,” which I had the privilege of proofreading. The book recounts a summer road trip he took with friend a few years ago and the correlating spiritual lessons he learned in the cities he visited.

During one of his stops – I think it was in Baltimore – Caleb says he saw a young African-American guy on a bus. Caleb admits that he made a number of judgments about the man and his lifestyle, simply based on the clothes he was wearing. Just before the guy stepped off the bus, Caleb noticed what he had in his hand. The guy was carrying a Bible.

If we are going to be the representatives of Jesus that we are meant to be, we must learn to reject our inner so-and-so.

We have just come through a political campaign season that was probably the most bitter and polarizing in our country’s history. Depending on your politics, your inner so-and-so might make unloving judgments about those receiving government assistance, or about corporate CEOs; about the gay community, or about the tea party; about those who watch Fox News, or about those who watch MSNBC.

Whatever our politics, we must remember that our first allegiance isn’t to a president or a challenger, but to a King; not to a nation, even, but to a Kingdom – and in that Kingdom, everyone matters, and there is room for us all.

And finally, as we prepare to head into Advent in a couple of weeks, let us reflect on our calling to be like Boaz.

Earlier in the Ruth story, we see that Boaz was generous to Ruth from the first time he met her. The law stipulated that the edges of a field of grain were to be left unharvested so that the poor could collect the grain to survive. This is what Ruth was doing when she first met Boaz. He instructed his workers not only to leave plenty for her to glean, but to actually drop some of the good grain on the ground for her to pick up. He welcomed her to glean in his field for the entire season so that she would be safe. All of this went far beyond what the law required. And we might think that Boaz was trying to impress Ruth and win her affection, but the story doesn’t suggest that at all. All we see in the story is someone with plenty showing kindness to someone in need.

You know, a lot of the rhetoric in the presidential campaign was about government assistance – about how much responsibility the government should bear in providing for the people versus how much responsibility people have to take care of themselves. I’m not interested in having that debate, but this much I do know: It would be a moot point if we, as the body of Christ, were living out our calling to love and to serve – if we took seriously our responsibility to “the least of these.”

We have so much. Did you know that half of the people on the planet live on less than $2.50 a day? I handed over that much for a bottle of water and a pack of gum on my way to work the other day. Did you know that about 80 percent of our neighbors around the world live on less than $10 a day? I paid more than that for my lunch yesterday.

What if, like Boaz, we did more than the minimum? What if I stopped focusing on myself and what I want, and practiced regular generosity? What kind of difference could you make in the world simply by being kind?

May we embrace the truth that we are loved, valued and accepted by our Redeemer. May we see others through our Redeemer’s eyes and realize how deeply they, too, are loved, valued and accepted. And may we be the hands and feet of Christ extended to help those in need. Amen.