A Lineage of Grace (32 page)

“With what? We have nothing.”

“I have these.” She removed two thin gold bracelets.

“Oh, no. Mahlon gave those to you!”

“As long as I live, I will never forget Mahlon.” She kissed Naomi’s pale cheek. “Would your son want us to go hungry? Rest now. I’ll return as soon as I can.”

All through the day, worry plagued Ruth. How would she provide for her mother-in-law when money ran out and she had nothing more to sell? She prayed unceasingly as she walked through the marketplace.
Lord, I don’t know what to do. Help me take care of my mother-in-law.
Ruth bargained with four merchants before she got the price that she wanted for her bracelets. Then she bargained even harder for the lowest price for dates, a jar of olive oil, an ephah of parched grain, and an extra blanket for Naomi, who had shivered through the night. Her purchases took everything she had.

She knew that other women in her situation had resorted to prostitution, but she would rather die than bring such shame on herself or Naomi. Would she and her mother-in-law have no recourse but to sit at the city gate each day and beg others for charity? She was young and able-bodied. Perhaps she could sell herself as a slave and give the money to Naomi. But what would happen to Naomi when the twenty shekels ran out? There must be another way.

Lord, what must I do? I will do whatever is in accordance with Your Law for the sake of Your servant Naomi. But we have only enough to sustain us for a few more days. Show me the way to provide for my mother-in-law and not bring further shame upon her.

When Ruth stopped at the well to refill the skin, she noticed several women decorating their doorways. Though they glanced her way frequently, no one greeted her. Ruth shifted the things she was carrying so she could manage the skin of water and headed back to the cave.

“The women were hanging garlands of greenery,” she told Naomi upon her return.

“They’re preparing for the Feast of Firstfruits.”

“Are there many feasts?” Ruth wondered aloud. Silently she worried about how she would provide what was needed.
Oh, Lord, Lord, what must I do? I am defeated already.

“Sit with me awhile, and I’ll tell you about the feasts of the Lord,” Naomi said.

Ruth sat just inside the mouth of the small cave, where she was sheltered from the sun.

“We’ve arrived in Bethlehem in time to celebrate four feasts of the Lord,” Naomi said. “There are seven each year. We’ve celebrated Passover and are now beginning the six days of the Feast of the Unleavened Bread. The barley is the first grain crop to be harvested, and it’s ready now for reaping, so the women are making preparations for the third feast, the Feast of Firstfruits. Men will be chosen to cut stalks of barley for the procession. The stalks will be brought to the priest, who will present them before the Lord. Fifty days after that, we’ll celebrate the fourth feast, the Feast of Weeks, when the wheat harvest begins. We’ll bake two loaves of bread with fine flour and leaven to be presented to the Lord by a priest on the high place.”

Wheat cost dearly. Ruth looked away, not wanting her mother-in-law to suspect her distress. Naomi mustn’t know how bad their situation was. It would only add to her grief.

“There will be three more feasts of the Lord later,” Naomi said. “The Feast of Trumpets, the Day of Atonement, and the Feast of Tabernacles.” She went on to explain.

Ruth tried to be attentive and absorb everything Naomi was teaching her, but her head was swimming with details, her mind clouded by worries. In fifty days, she and Naomi wouldn’t have to worry about how to prepare a feast because they would be starving. She had nothing left to sell, no way of making money, no opportunity to work. There would be no wheat to make bread for the Lord, let alone bread to eat.

“The Law guides our lives,” Naomi said. “When we fall away, the Lord disciplines us. As I have been disciplined.”

Ruth wanted to cover her face and weep. Instead, she sat silent, gazing outside, hiding her inner turmoil.
Oh, Lord, Lord . . .
She didn’t even know how to pray. Perhaps there were special words, ablutions, offerings,
something
that would help her prayer be heard.
Oh, God, have mercy. I want to please You. I want to serve this woman I love who loves You so much. Please, I beseech You. Show me what to do.

Naomi stretched out her hand. “Do you see this fallow field? Once it was thick with wheat. Elimelech put his hand to the plow and the land prospered. I remember how the wind would blow gently over the stalks so that the field moved in golden waves. We had so much. Life was so good. During those early years, there was so much, Elimelech did not begrudge the gleaners. It wasn’t until later that he wouldn’t let them come and work, but gathered every stalk, right to the edge of his land.” Naomi frowned. “Perhaps that’s why . . .”

“Gleaners?” Ruth leaned forward.

Naomi leaned back against the stone. “The Lord commanded that no one reap to the edges or corners of their fields. The grain that grows there is set aside for the poor to gather.” She looked out at the field again, troubled and deep in thought. “When all is done according to the ways of the Lord, no one goes hungry.”

Ruth closed her eyes in relief and bowed her head.
Oh, Yahweh, You are truly a God of mercy.
Her heart filled with so much gratitude, her throat closed hot with tears. She hadn’t realized how afraid she was of the future until this moment when she felt hope surge again. God had not forsaken them! She almost laughed at her ignorance. She had grown up in a city and knew nothing about the ways of farmers. She had grown up in the shadow of Chemosh, a false god who took and never gave back. And now, here was the God who loved His people and provided for them—even the poorest of the poor, the brokenhearted, the broken in spirit.

Truly, Jehovah, You are a merciful redeemer and gracious protector! I should have remembered how You protected us every step of the way from Kir-hareseth over the mountains to Bethlehem. Forgive me, Lord; forgive Your foolish handmaiden. How could I have believed You would bring us so far only to let us starve?

Smiling, Ruth lifted her head and filled her lungs with air, her heart swelling with gratitude and a strange sense of complete freedom.

* * *

And the women were saying . . .

“Poor Naomi. Do you remember how she used to laugh and be so confident?”

“
Too
confident, if you ask me.”

“Elimelech wasn’t the only man who wanted to marry her.”

“Do you remember how handsome he was?”

“Naomi is a year younger than I am, and she looks so old.”

“And thin.”

“Grief does that. A husband and two sons dead. Oy.”

“God must be punishing her.”

“All she has to show for the years in Moab is that girl who came with her.”

“She looks so foreign.”

“Such dark eyes.”

“You’ve heard about Moabite women . . .”

“No, what did you hear?”

They clustered together, whispering, gasping, shaking their heads.

“Naomi should send that girl home to Moab where she belongs. We don’t want her kind around here.”

“Yes, I agree. But who among us will take Naomi in?”

“Well, I can’t!”

“I’ve barely enough to feed my own family.”

“I have no room.”

“Then what will happen to her?”

“God will take care of her.”

* * *

The day after the Feast of Firstfruits, Ruth rose and asked Naomi for permission to go out into the fields and gather leftover grain.

“Not everyone will welcome you, Ruth,” Naomi said, alarmed.

“But the Law allows—”

“Not everyone heeds the Law. My own husband and sons—”

“I must go, Mother. This is the only way.”

“But I’m afraid for you. There are men in the fields who will try to take advantage of you. They’ll see nothing wrong in assaulting a Moabitess.”

“Then I will work alongside the women.”

“They’ll be no better. I don’t know what I’d do if something happened to you.”

Ruth embraced and kissed her. “I will pray that the Lord protects me, that He is a shield around me.” She smiled into Naomi’s frightened eyes. “Perhaps God will lead me to the field of some kind man who will allow me to glean the free grain behind his reapers. Pray for that.”

“You must watch out.”

“I will.”

“Don’t turn your back on anyone.”

“I’ll be careful.”

“All right, my daughter, go ahead,” Naomi finally relented.

Ruth walked along the road and entered the first field where reapers were at work, but she didn’t stay more than a few minutes. Another gleaner hurled a stone. Ruth uttered a cry as it struck her cheek. She stumbled quickly from the field, hearing the woman shouting. “Get out of here, you Moabite harlot! Go back where you belong!” Staunching the trickle of blood on her cheek, Ruth went on. The reapers in the next field were no kinder.

“Moabite whore! Go back to your own kind and stay out of our fields!”

“And stay away from our men!”

When she started to enter another field, the workers leered at her. “Come here, my pretty one!” an overseer called to her. “I’m in need of a roll in the hay.” The other men laughed.

Ruth ran back onto the road, her face aflame as the men and women laughed. They continued to call out insults and make jokes about Moabites as she hurried away.

She walked on and on, passing fields of wheat not yet ripe for harvest. Finally she came to another barley field, where the men were girded and hard at work with their scythes. Women worked behind them, gathering the stalks of barley and bundling them. There were no gleaners. Dejected, Ruth wondered if it was a sign of the owner’s attitude toward the destitute. She could only hope the absence of gleaners was due to the field’s considerable distance from Bethlehem. She looked around cautiously. Surely the owner had some compassion, for he had erected a shelter where his workers could rest. Some of the men and women in the field sang as they worked.

Swallowing her fear, Ruth approached the overseer standing near the shelter. He was a tall man, a powerfully built man with a solemn demeanor. Clasping her hands and keeping her eyes downcast, she bowed before him. “Greetings, sir.”

“What do you want, woman?”

Heart pounding, she straightened and saw how his gaze moved down over her grimly. Would he deny her the right to glean because she was a foreigner? “I’ve come to ask your permission to pick up the stalks dropped by the reapers.” She would beg if necessary.

Frowning, he stood silent, considering her request. Then he nodded and pointed. “There will be more grain for you if you glean at the corners of the field and along the edge.”

Relief swept through Ruth. She let out her breath sharply and smiled. “Thank you, sir!” She bowed once more. “Thank you!” He looked so startled, she blushed and lowered her head quickly.

“Stay clear of the workers,” he said as she left him.

“Yes, sir.” She bowed again. “Thank you for your kindness, sir.” She felt him watching her closely as she hurried away. The reapers took notice of her as she hastened toward the farthest corner of the field. One woman gathering the stalks behind the reapers glanced at her and smiled. No one cast an insult or threw a stone. No one called out lewd propositions or insults. The workers in this field left her alone. They kept on with their own work and began to sing again.

Relieved and thankful, Ruth set to work. Without tools, she had to break off the stalks of barley with her bare hands. Soon her fingers were blistered. Hour after hour she worked while the sun beat down hot and heavy. She became light-headed from the heat and labor and sat in the shade of a tree near the boundary stone until she was rested enough to begin work again.
I will be like an ant laying up stores of grain through the spring and summer months so there will be food to last through the winter,
she thought, smiling as she worked. Each hour was important, and she threw herself into the labor, grateful she had been given freedom to do so.

The songs of the reapers lifted her spirits. “The earth is the Lord’s in all its fullness . . . maker of heaven and earth . . . ruler of all . . . who delivered us from Pharaoh . . . holy is Your name. . . .”

Ruth hummed as she worked, and when she learned the words, she sang with them.

* * *

Boaz had checked the work in all of his barley fields but one. He rode his horse along the road, raising his hand in greeting to those he recognized overseeing or working in the fields. Some elders at the gate shook their heads at him, asking why he always felt it necessary to spend so much time in the fields with his workers. His overseers had proven themselves trustworthy. Why not leave the work to them and sit and talk with those of his station? They never understood why he enjoyed being a part of the harvest, and not just showing up for the celebration at the end.

He had worked in his father’s fields as a boy when the crops had come in fourfold. And he had worked in the fields as a young man when famine was upon the land. Surely it was through the mercy of God alone that he’d prospered while many others had struggled. Many had sold their land and sought a better life elsewhere. Rather than repent and turn to God again, they had despaired and moved on, necks stiff with pride as they continued to bow down to the baals and Ashtoreth.

Elimelech had left that way. Boaz had tried to reason with him, but the man had never been one to listen, even to a close relative. “What good is the Promised Land when it won’t yield grain?” It seemed beyond Elimelech’s reasoning to see that God had turned away because His own people had proven themselves unfaithful.

“Stop bowing down to the baals and stay here, Elimelech. Think of what is best for your sons. Work your land. Surely the Lord will bless you if you’re faithful,” Boaz had urged him.

“Faithful? I’ve given sacrifices. I’ve given offerings.”

“What God wants is a contrite heart.”

“Why should I be contrite when I’ve done everything I was supposed to do? What good has it done me? Here you stand, Boaz, thinking you’re a better Jew than I am. All you have over me is better land.”