“Naomi,” Neta said, coming quickly toward her. She kissed each cheek in greeting. “I am so glad you were able to come.”
Ruth watched Naomi’s face, saw the tightness of her jaw, and wondered what bitter words would spew from her tongue. She’d seemed to hold only hurt and anger in her tone from the moment they entered the town.
“I am also glad to be here.” Naomi returned Neta’s kiss. “Thank you for having us.” She looked about her. “Are Boaz or his sisters coming?”
Ruth lifted a brow but quickly masked her surprise at Naomi’s gentle, grateful tone. Of course Naomi would be polite to those who would feed them. They were little more than beggars now, and unless Naomi’s God somehow provided for them to find work for food, they would soon starve.
“Boaz came for a visit before Passover and the Feast of Firstfruits, but he and Melek are not on the best of terms,” Neta said softly. “Between their constant disagreements and Boaz’s grief . . . let’s just say that no one sees much of Boaz these days except his men in the fields.”
Naomi’s look held empathy, something Ruth had not seen in her gaze for some time, and Ruth felt a sudden sadness for the man who had lost an apparently beloved wife.
Neta smiled. “But you are here, so let us put off talk of distressing subjects, shall we?” A servant came and set before them platters of meat and fish and more vegetables than Ruth had seen in months. The bounty was like that of Moab, and more.
Hope lightened her mood as laughter and conversation drifted around her. Melek was Naomi’s brother-in-law. Surely he would help his destitute family.
“So, Naomi,” Chanah said after the second glass of wine had been poured into their cups, “tell us what Moab was like. Even more, tell us what happened to your sons. I mean, we know our God has taken them, but how? Were they hurt by wild animals, did they fall ill?” Chanah tsked. “Such dreadful sorrow you have faced, my sister.”
The others nodded, and Ruth tensed. To ask such questions seemed rude when one still grieved, but Naomi did not brush aside their comments or scowl at her relatives.
“You have heard, of course, that my Elimelech was mauled by a bear.”
Exclamations of horror and shaking heads and comments of “such a terrible thing” went around the table before Naomi continued.
“But my boys . . . it is a strange thing indeed.” She paused to look at each woman. Ruth glanced up at that moment to see a man she did not know standing near the arch of the door, intently listening. Probably Melek.
“You know how they were so sickly at one point as children,” Naomi said.
Everyone nodded again with more comments of “such a terrible thing” and “you almost lost them then” before at last the women quieted once more and Naomi continued. These women did not tell a tale the way the women of Moab did, and after a time Ruth wondered if Naomi would ever finish the story. But after the fifth interruption of exclamations, she at last drew in a long, slow breath.
“The illness came on Chilion so suddenly, and then Mahlon was stricken the moment he returned from fetching the physician. Both boys on the same day and for no reason!” Naomi’s voice rose in pitch, and Ruth noticed her hands clenched in her lap. “Our God, blessed be He, took my sons faster than He gave them and left me with two Moabite daughters-in-law. No grandchildren. And in the end, only Ruth”—Naomi pointed to her—“was willing to leave her homeland and return with me to Bethlehem.”
“What a blessing that she did not leave you alone,” Neta said after a weighty silence. She smiled at Ruth, who suddenly wondered if everyone in the room hated Moabites as much as Moabites hated Israelites.
“Yes, a blessing,” Chanah and Elke agreed.
An awkward moment passed when it seemed as though the conversation was at an end and yet no one knew what to say next.
“How will you manage?” Neta finally asked as the serving girls began to clear the food away.
Ruth darted a glance toward the door where the man had been, but he had departed at some point without notice.
“I do not know,” Naomi admitted, looking to each woman. “The grain and oil and wine and raisin cakes we brought with us are very low. It was not quite the start of harvest when we left Moab, and with Mahlon and Chilion gone, there was little we could do.”
“But surely you could have brought in the harvest with help from the people of the land.” Chanah shook her head. “Such uncivilized people to not offer to help you.”
Ruth cleared her throat. “The governor of the city planned to take the land from Naomi. With no husband or sons to protect her, there was nothing she could do. We took everything we could carry.”
Compassion filled Chanah’s eyes. “You are a kind young woman to help your mother-in-law then.”
“She is a blessing of the Lord,” Naomi boasted. Ruth glanced at her mother-in-law. Did she truly think of her as God’s blessing?
Chanah and Neta stood and went to another area of the room and returned with two sacks. Neta leaned close to Naomi’s ear as she pressed the bags into Ruth’s hands. “This isn’t much, but it is all we can give you. Melek is charitable . . . to a point.”
Ruth felt the weight of the sacks. A very small point. But she only said, “He is very generous to look after his widowed sister-in-law.”
Melek’s wives looked toward the door but said nothing. Ruth glanced in the same direction. There was no sign of Melek, but his wives obviously did not think it wise to speak another word about him lest he hear. What kind of man was this relative of Naomi’s? The image of Governor Aali flashed in Ruth’s thoughts and she cringed.
Naomi stood quickly, and Ruth was just as happy to follow her from the house to the waiting donkey.
“Thank you for your hospitality,” Naomi said loud enough for the household to hear. “God bless you for your kindness to us.”
The women parted with farewell kisses, and Ruth hurried after Naomi, holding a torch to guide the way back through Bethlehem’s gates to their humble house. But in that moment she was glad of the lowly estate Naomi still owned. She would rather live with modest means with a person she loved than in a house of fine furnishings with a man like Melek.
27
Ruth felt the two sacks Neta had pressed into her hands a week ago and met Naomi’s gaze. “The grain runs very low, my mother.” She held up one of the limp sacks. “There may be enough for one more meal or two if we are careful, but then we will have nothing. All of the food we brought from Moab is gone, except for the oil.” But oil needed to be mixed with the flour from the grain. They could not eat oil alone.
Naomi glanced over the room where they took their meals, a wistful look in her eyes. “Years ago, it was I who took food to the widows and orphans. I never expected to be needing help in the same way.”
Ruth set the sack inside a clay jar to protect it from rodents and walked to Naomi’s side. She cupped the older woman’s frail shoulder, feeling the bone sharp against her hand. They needed food. Much food, or she could lose her.
Oh God of Naomi, please do not take her too.
“Let me go to the fields and pick up the leftover grain behind anyone in whose eyes I find favor. Surely I can find a farmer who will allow such a thing. Have you not told me that your God provides for the poor through gleaning? Are not the men to keep from harvesting the corners of their fields so that the alien and the widow and the orphan can have food to eat?” Did the people of Israel keep their God’s laws in this way as Naomi had said?
“Yes. I have told you that.” Naomi’s eyes brightened for the first time in weeks. Clearly she had hoped for more help from Melek, but no more food had come to them from Neta or Chanah or anyone else in Melek’s household. She sighed. “I hate to ask it of you, my daughter. Gleaning is hard work, and you are such a help to me here.”
“But we need food to eat, Mother, and I will be home by nightfall. Let me do this. Let me see if your people obey the laws of your God so that we can both find comfort.” Ruth straightened, he
r chin jutting forward. “And you need not worry. I am a strong worker. I can glean as easily as I can sweep or grind grain.”
Naomi smiled and patted Ruth’s arm. “Go, my daughter. But the fields are outside of the city walls, and you must take great care to be watchful. A woman alone . . .” She did not finish the sentence, but by her look, Ruth did not need her to do so.
“I will be careful.” She kissed Naomi’s cheek, then picked up the broken basket they had found when they first arrived, which Ruth had spent her evenings mending. She strapped it to her back and waist with strips of the goat’s hair blanket she had carefully torn.
Naomi followed her into the courtyard, and Ruth glanced back and waved, then made her way through the now familiar streets and out to find a friendly field.
Boaz stopped at the city gate on his way to his barley fields. The Feast of Firstfruits behind him now, he was anxious to get started with the rest of the harvest but knew Ezra could manage a little longer without him.
He climbed the steps to the room within the gate and sat opposite Melek and several other merchants and landowners, most of whom had also gone to Shiloh—except for Melek, who managed an excuse to send someone in his place, something Boaz had longed to do if not for the guilt he would feel. He tamped down his frustration. He had gone. He had obeyed the law. God forgive him if he could not obey it from his heart—a heart too raw with pain to feel anything but obligation.
“The Lord be with you,” he said, again using the obligatory greeting.
“And with you, Boaz,” each man said in turn.
“It is good of you to join us again,” Melek added, his smile too pitying.
Boaz nodded but only half listened to the daily updates on town business. Why had he bothered to come today? He had no interest in the town’s trivial matters. Not like he once did when he’d had Adi to go home to and share them with. But even two months seemed not nearly long enough to get past his grief, though his sisters had already made a few suggestions that there were widows in the town who could use the protection of a husband. Of course they would think thus. People married for convenience all the time. He could do so to help some poor, lonely woman. But his heart recoiled at the thought.
“I’m sure we are all aware that my brother’s wife has returned from Moab and brought a Moabitess with her,” Melek said, jarring Boaz from his thoughts. “Unfortunately for her, Naomi has lost everything—my brother and both of her sons. Except for the foreigner and a run-down house, she is destitute. I don’t know about the rest of you, but I cannot afford to support two more women.”
Boaz stared at this cousin who had been a continual thorn in his foot and could most certainly afford to help Naomi. “Surely with such a promising harvest we can both find a way to help her. We cannot let her starve.”
Melek scoffed. “She won’t starve. Behind my back my wives have already given her food from my storage, and I’m sure they will find ways to continue. Or perhaps your sisters will help her.” He leveled his gaze at Boaz, his meaning too clear. “At least the Moabitess is comely to look upon. Now, if she were an Israelite . . .” He left the sentence unfinished, but Boaz caught his meaning. If the Moabitess were of Israel, Melek would happily snatch up another wife. Or so he wanted Boaz to think.
“The Moabitess left her homeland and all she had to come with Naomi,” one of the elders said, giving a detailed account of this woman who had pledged herself to her mother-in-law. “The least we can do is be accepting of her.”
Boaz looked about the group and abruptly stood. “If Naomi is in need, it is our duty to help her.” He paused, recalling Naomi’s pride, her willingness to help others even against Elimelech’s wishes. Would she accept help in return? It was far easier to give than to receive.
He strode to the steps. “Without offending her pride, I trust you gentlemen can come up with ways to see that after all her generosity toward our poor, Naomi does not end up worse off than the people she helped before they left Bethlehem.”
He turned and took the steps two at a time, heat filling his face. He shouldn’t let Melek frustrate him so, but the man was impossible. He blew out a breath and untied the donkey from the post where it waited, climbed on its back, and urged it through the gates.
Why had no one told him of Naomi’s plight until now? She had been back a week or so, the men had said, and apparently Melek had already laid eyes on the Moabitess. He would have to stop at the house Naomi and Elimelech had owned and see how she fared. Melek might not want to help the women, and Boaz could well imagine how much he would ration any “help” he allowed his wives to give, but Adi would haunt him from her grave if Boaz ignored such a need from family.
Adi. She would have already told him of Naomi’s return. In fact, she would have welcomed Naomi and the Moabitess to their home until Naomi’s home could be repaired. He shook himself. He couldn’t very well do such a thing—a man alone—servants about him or not.
He rubbed the back of his neck as he rode alongside the fields until he came to the area where the reapers were working. He jumped down and tied the reins to a shade tree and walked to where Ezra stood near the crew of men.
“The Lord be with you!” he called out to them. The greeting slipped out before he could think. He glanced heavenward. Did God grow angry with men who spoke blessings with their lips but whose hearts were far from Him? Boaz used to feel close to the Almighty, especially out here in the fields or with Adi and her sheep. But sometimes breathing was the only prayer he could muster, and it was wordless agony to think anything more.
“The Lord bless you, my lord,” his men responded in kind.
Boaz walked the length of the field from where the reapers worked to where the young women gleaned behind them. He caught up with Ezra not far from the women.
“My lord, you have come at just the right time.” Ezra smiled and touched a hand to his head in greeting.
“Have I now? And why is that?” He glanced Ezra’s way and turned his gaze to the workers to determine for himself how things fared.
“Things are going quite well. We are actually ahead of schedule, as the men seem quite energetic today and eager to get the crop in,” Ezra said.
Boaz only nodded, still looking over the workers. Was that the Moabitess Melek had mentioned?
“Did you hear what I said, my lord?”
“Yes, yes.” Boaz looked at Ezra and pointed toward the foreign woman. “Whose young woman is this?”
Ezra’s toothy grin made Boaz frown. “She is the young Moabite woman who came back with Naomi.”
So she had found a way to help Naomi even if Melek’s “help” had been of little use. Good.
“She said, ‘Please let me glean and gather among the sheaves after the reapers.’ Of course, knowing how you would feel about it all, I couldn’t refuse her. So she came, and she has continued from early morning until now, except for a short rest.”
Boaz nodded again. Adi would have been pleased. “Good. Good. You did well.” He strode away from Ezra as though some unseen hand propelled him forward. He would see for himself this woman who seemed to command the attention of the town elders. He walked across the field until he came to the Moabitess.
“You are the young woman who came back with Naomi,” he said.
She straightened from picking up some of the gleanings and placed them over her shoulder into a basket that had seen better days. “Yes, my lord,” she said, her voice soft, respectful. “I am Ruth the Moabitess. Naomi is my mother-in-law.”
Boaz looked down at her, silently agreeing with Melek that she was comely to look upon. But a guilty feeling quickly followed. Widow or not, he could not do as his sisters had suggested. And surely not with a foreigner. Besides, one more glance told him that she was much too young for him.
“Now, listen, my daughter,” he said, emphasizing their age difference for his sake as well as hers. If she still grieved her husband, she would not be entertaining such thoughts regardless.
She tilted
her head. “Yes, my lord?”
He shook his head. “Do not go to glean in another field or leave this one, but keep close to my young women. Watch the field where they are reaping, and follow after them. I will charge the young men not to touch you.” Which he would do the moment he left her side. The least he could do for Naomi was to protect her daughter-in-law.
He cleared his throat, searching for more to say, feeling uncharacteristically tongue-tied. He watched the way she pressed her hands together and kept her head slightly bent rather than hold his gaze. Compassion filled him. Of course she would not feel his equal, and as a foreigner she probably wondered what she should and should not say and do.
“And when you are thirsty,” he continued, “go to the vessels and drink what the young men have drawn.” He would invite her to eat of their food as well, but that could wait until the sun hit the midpoint in the sky.
Ruth knelt among the gleanings and put her face to the ground. “Why have I found favor in your eyes, that you should take notice of me, since I am a foreigner?”
Boaz bid her rise with a gentle touch on her shoulder. “All that you have done for your mother-in-law since the death of your husband has been fully told to me, and how you left your father and mother and your native land and came to a people that you did not know before. The Lord repay you for what you have done, and a full reward be given you by the Lord, the God of Israel, under whose wings you have come to take refuge.”
“Thank you,” she said, her voice low, almost musical. “I have found favor in your eyes, my lord, for you have comforted me and spoken kindly to your servant, though I am not one of your servants.”
Would that you were.
28
Ruth picked up another sheaf of grain the reapers had missed and tossed it into her basket. Boaz’s words turned in her mind as she followed his girls back and forth through the barley fields. The sun beat down on her as it rose higher in the sky, causing trickles of sweat to glide down her back and dampen her face along her brow.
Redeeming Grace: Ruth's Story Page 16