In the Field of Grace (8 page)

After selling what they could, the three women piled their belongings into a dilapidated cart. Not much to show for three lifetimes. A few clothes, several clay jars of pickled capers, olive oil, salt, lentils and chickpeas, dates, three squares of sheep cheese, a reed basket filled with dried herbs, two flint knives, several skins of water and new wine. A handful of woven mats, frayed at the edges. A two-handled bronze saucepan, chipped bowls, rough wooden spoons, a small hand mill, a few odds and ends.

They had used the last of the wheat and barley to make bread for the journey. They didn’t even have an extra pair of sandals between them. Ruth tied her headdress more securely around her head and tapped the old donkey on its skinny side. They would be fortunate if the beast did not keel over halfway to Judah.

Naomi had decided to travel on the road to Moab, a secondary highway that would take them through the southern tip of the Salt Sea, before bending northward toward Israel. For Ruth, who had never left Kir-hareseth’s borders, the journey loomed like a threatening thundercloud, though it would likely last less than a week.

Naomi had told her that they would descend through the high hills of Moab, into the lowlands surrounding the Salt Sea. “It’s a hard journey,” she said. “We’ll pass through some cities. But much of the road is barren and harsh.”

The sun had yet to rise when the three women began their journey toward Bethlehem. Ruth and Orpah had taken leave of their families the day before. Ruth’s goodbye had been brief; none of her sisters had even embraced her. Her parents had patted her shoulder with as much affection as they showed the family goat. They had kept their distance in the past four years, and now that she was a poor widow, they had even less interest in her.

Orpah had red-rimmed eyes that continued to shed fat tears as the donkey began to pull the cart. Leaving came harder to her. She loved Moab.

They would begin by traveling northwest to Bab edh-Dhra, in the opposite direction of their destination. The road to Moab bent in the shape of a horseshoe here, going first the wrong way, and then turning back downward, which made the descent through the hills easier. They intended to stop and rest at Bab edh-Dhra over the noonday hour, before journeying south to Numeira.

They had only traveled until the third hour of the day when Naomi came to a stop. Ruth halted the donkey’s progress. Before she could ask Naomi why she had interrupted their journey, the older woman lifted up her hand.

“This is not right. You must return, both of you, to your mothers’ house. Why come to Bethlehem with me where nothing good awaits you? No husband, no security, no certainty, no old friends. Stay in the land of your fathers.”

Ruth’s heart skipped a beat. With dumb incomprehension, she beheld her mother-in-law, nausea roiling in her belly.

If Naomi had any idea how Ruth felt, she gave no sign of it. Instead, she went on, her tone hard, brooking no argument.

“You girls are the most precious things I have left in this world. You have treated me well since the day I met you. May the Lord deal kindly with you, as you have dealt with my dear sons, and with me. Go, knowing that I do not take that kindness lightly. I’ll cherish it as long as I have breath.

“But now you must return to your homes. May the Lord grant that you find rest, each of you, in the house of a new husband. May He give you men worthy of your sweetness.”

She kissed Orpah on both cheeks and then turned to Ruth. Taking her face in calloused hands, she kissed her forehead, her cheeks, her hair. Her lips were dry, scratching where they touched. “My sweet daughters.”

Ruth could no longer hold in her tears. She tried to swallow the sound of sobs, but they burst out of her with the bitterness of new grief. Naomi was casting her out. Naomi did not want her. Orpah, already grieved, added the sound of her own cries to Ruth. The donkey looked up at the women wailing on the side of the road and shook its head until the cords of its bridle swayed on either side of him.

“No!” Ruth cried. “This is wrong, Mother. We will return with you to your people. I would never abandon you.”

Orpah nodded. “It is true. We owe you that duty.”

Naomi shook her head. “You must turn back, my daughters. Why would you go with me? Can I provide for you? Give you new husbands? Do you think this old womb of mine could birth other sons who would grow up and take you to wife?”

Ruth gulped at the bitterness in Naomi’s voice. “I don’t want another husband.”

“Don’t be foolish, Ruth. How will you make your way in the world? You need a husband to provide for you. I am too old to marry again. And even if that were possible, and by some miracle I were to marry this very night and bear sons, then what? Would you wait for them to grow up and refuse to marry someone else until then?” Her voice had turned sour with sarcasm. “You can see how preposterous the idea of your coming with me is. I cannot care for you! You must part company with me, and go your own way.”

“I would never part from you,” Ruth cried. “You are the only good thing left to me.”

Naomi sank to the side of the road as if her legs were too weak to support her. “It is bitter for me for your sakes that the Lord has raised His hand against me. I do not wish you to partake of
my
misfortune. You are both young. You can have a new life. A chance to have a future with children and families of your own. Why should you have to bear the weight of my hardships as well as your own?”

Orpah stepped forward. “This is what you want?”

Naomi nodded. “It is.”

Orpah hesitated for just one moment. Then she leaned forward and kissed her mother-in-law the kiss of farewell. She turned to Ruth and embraced her in a similar fashion, saying in a hushed voice, “Goodbye, Ruth. I shall miss you every day.” It took her only a moment to grab her meager belongings out of the cart. Then she began to walk, her steps rapid, moving her back toward Moab.

Ruth choked on her tears. Horrified, she turned to Naomi. Her beloved family had disintegrated. Only two of them left on a road that stretched in opposite directions. And Naomi did not want her.

R
uth clung to Naomi, the way a tree clings to its root. Something pierced her heart when Naomi untangled herself from her grasp and stepped away. The donkey brayed and shook its head.

“Look,” Naomi said. “Orpah is being sensible. She has made the right decision; she returns to her people and her gods. You do the same. Go back. Go back to your land and your gods. Go to what you know, Ruth. Be practical.” At Ruth’s silence she threw up her hands. “What do you want me to do? Hail a chariot to drive you back to Moab? Be sensible. Think of your gods. They cannot come with you.”

Naomi’s words had a strange effect on Ruth. Instead of convincing her, they cut her free from every doubt. Fear melted away as she considered what Naomi pressed upon her.

Her
gods?

For over three years she had not stepped into the temple of Chemosh, nor worshiped any of the other gods of Canaan. For months now, her heart had been full of the Lord alone. Naomi raged against Him with the bitterness of one who felt betrayed. But Ruth saw Him as a source of kindness. Had He not brought her, a Moabite, to taste of goodness at the hands of Naomi and her family? Had He not given her the desire of her heart? To belong? Surely He had called her out of Moab. Surely, He had given her a
new family. A new name. A new home. She belonged to Naomi now. And the Lord.

The road stretched before her, a mystery marked in sand. It held two different futures, two opposing destinies. Ruth knew which direction to face.

She took a deep breath and asked for wisdom to put these new feelings into words. Words that would penetrate Naomi’s doubts. Words that would not fade through the passing of years.

“Dear Naomi, don’t urge me to leave you. Don’t press me to stop following you. For where you go, I will go. Where you stay, I will stay. Your people will be my people. Your God will be my God. I have chosen Him and I have chosen you. To you both, I belong.

“Where you die, I will die, and no one will return even my bones to Moab, for I belong to Israel now, and there I will be buried. May the Lord do so to me and more also if anything but death parts me from you, my dear mother.”

Naomi took a deep breath and turned away. Ruth saw that rather than being pleased by her declaration of steadfast love, she had grown vexed. She feared too much for Ruth’s future to enjoy her loyalty. That would change, Ruth promised herself.

The Lord God will help me. I will not be disgraced as Naomi fears
. She set her face like flint and put one foot in front of another, heading toward Bethlehem.

By the fourth hour of the day, the temperature grew sweltering. The women pulled their veils over their faces to protect them against the dust that arose from the rutted terrain in an unending cloud. With determination, they pressed forward and pushed themselves beyond the point of exhaustion. They could not afford to be on the open road when night descended and had to arrive at a city in time to find shelter. Even though they traveled upon a busy thoroughfare, no roads were safe for two solitary women past nightfall.

Just before dusk they arrived at the walled settlement of Numeira,
where they intended to spend the night at an inn. Until this point in their journey, as they had descended down the high cliffs of Kir-hareseth, they had traversed through bustling roads. But after leaving Numeira, they could no longer travel alone and would need to join a caravan for the sake of safety. Thieves abounded the lonely stretches of the Moab road. Many fell victim to the iron dagger of unscrupulous robbers.

Most of the money they had set aside from the sale of their goods and few livestock went to the owner of the private caravan they hired. They could only afford a tiny outfit. Altogether, there were twelve in their company including the two women. The majority were passengers.

There were two men who acted as guards—one, the owner, plump and taciturn, ran out of breath when ambling up one set of stairs; the other, a skinny man with frog eyes that darted to and fro, seemed more interested in his jug of wine than in the world around him. Ruth examined their gear with suspicion. Their daggers were rusty and they carried no swords.

They had two servants, sturdy young boys who cared for the twenty donkeys and the carts that belonged to the caravan. By their accents, Ruth recognized them as Israelites. She thought the boys far more capable than their masters. They had strapped well-made slings at their waist, and she could detect the bulge of round stones tucked into their homespun sashes. Ruth suspected they knew how to put them to good use.

Sunlight had barely caressed the earth when the caravan began its slow descent down the hills surrounding Numeira. Every hour drew them closer to the Salt Sea and the wild terrain that skirted it. Heat, insects, thirst, and the uneven roads made their brisk walk harder than Ruth had expected. Even the donkeys seemed out of sorts and tired. When everyone began to wilt under a remorseless sun, the group took rest under the shadow of a great rock. After a modest lunch and some rest, they resumed their interminable trek.

They crossed the Zered Brook where the land of Moab ended
and the boundaries of the nation of Edom began. For the first time, Ruth’s feet left the land of her fathers.

Almost immediately, the terrain changed. It grew desertlike and flat. Sand dunes surrounded the road; the winds often whipped up the sand with sudden fierceness, until the fine granules covered the road so completely that without their guides they might have become lost.

They stopped early that evening. No one had the strength to take another step. Their portly leader explained that this one night they would spend out in the open.

Ruth went to their cart to retrieve cloaks and mats for sleeping when the frog-eyed guide approached her.