How many festivals had Naomi missed here in Bethlehem, ones that brought joy instead of sorrow? How Ruth longed to experience the Feast of Weeks, when everyone gathered to offer new grain of the summer wheat harvest to the Lord and rejoice in His provision. Naomi had called it a festival of trust, for it was a time when Israel acknowledged that true provisions came from God alone, not from what their hands could produce on their own. God sent the rain on both those who followed His ways and those who didn’t because He loved all that He had created. But Ruth knew too well that not everyone accepted harvest bounty as a gift from God’s hand.
She shuddered, weary from a sleepless night yet restless with the waiting. Oh to celebrate the next feast as one who belonged to Israel, a foreigner grafted into the tribe of Judah, walking at Boaz’s side.
But with that thought came nagging doubt. She bit her lip. She must stop this worrying! She would know today, Naomi had said. Boaz would not rest until he had an answer for her.
Her pacing grew tiresome in the small space, so she walked through the courtyard and climbed the steps to the roof. Naomi glanced her way and smiled her assurance, but Ruth only nodded. How pinched her face must seem to those looking on. How hard it was to trust in Naomi’s God . . . No—my God. Hadn’t she made the vow to worship Adonai Elohim as her God the moment they left Moab? When she had promised Naomi that her God would be Ruth’s God as well?
My God.
She reached the top of the steps and glanced toward the city gates. Too far to see anything except the outline of the gates and the walls and people milling below. She walked to the parapet. The spindle slowed and spun to a stop as she searched for his face.
But he was too far away to see. Had he done as he said he would? Was he even now speaking to Melek?
She drew a breath. Let it out. Another.
Do not fear, my daughter.
Trust. She glanced heavenward. It’s hard to trust what I cannot see.
But in the admission, she felt certain peace wash over her. Was that not what trust meant? To believe with the eyes of the soul, even if the eyes of the body could not see?
She allowed her tense shoulders to relax. She had come with Naomi seeking something else, something better, knowing . . . yes, knowing that Naomi’s God was greater than Chemosh.
And hadn’t He provided for them through men who obeyed His law? What had she to fear?
Melek’s face came into her mind’s eye, and for the briefest moment she thought she might feel sick. But she would not allow it. No. If God sent her to live in that man’s home, she would find a way to see it as good. For if Naomi’s God was as good as her mother-in-law believed, despite all of their losses, she would be thankful—if not for her sake, for Naomi’s.
There was a small amount of comfort in that thought.
38
Boaz walked from one end of the gated room to another. Windows and a wide-open door allowed for passersby to see easily into the room where the elders met, and the townspeople could gather to witness transactions happening within. Boaz had chosen this room rather than the more enclosed one closer to the roof meant for private meetings, so he could easily see Melek the moment he entered Bethlehem’s gates.
But the sun had already risen halfway in the sky and still the man had not appeared. Did he still sleep at the threshing floor? But that was ridiculous. He undoubtedly saw to his barley, then went home to wash and change his clothes. It could be hours before he showed himself.
Boaz sat down. Glanced at the group of elders who mingled about just outside the room, waiting as he had asked.
One smiled his way. “He will come, my son. Do not fear.”
“Shall we send someone to get him for you?” another said.
Boaz stroked his beard, longing to bathe and dress and be able to go to Ruth and tell her the good news. Would it be good news? Suddenly, he wanted nothing more.
“No. No. I will wait a little longer. He will come.” Please, Adonai, let him come.
“Look, Boaz. There he is.” Another elder spoke from just outside the door.
Boaz jumped up and saw that his cousin was within hearing distance. “Melek,” he called. Melek stopped and looked at him. “Turn aside, friend.” Boaz motioned him inside. “Sit down here.”
Melek cast him a skeptical look but did as Boaz asked. Boaz turned and called the ten elders into the room. He breathed a sigh, relieved when they were all seated.
He faced Melek and drew in a deep breath. He had imagined how to approach this cousin for hours, weighing whether to mention the land first or Ruth first. And now the time had come. Would God grant his desire? May You do according to Your will, Lord.
Peace settled again as he gathered his courage. He stood so Melek and the elders could hear him. “Naomi, who has come back from the country of Moab, is selling the parcel of land that belonged to our relative Elimelech.”
Melek’s brows rose at the comment, the light of interest in his eyes.
“I thought I should bring the matter to your attention and suggest that you buy it in the presence of these seated here and in the presence of the elders of my people. If you will redeem it, do so. But if you will not, tell me, so I will know. For no one has the right to do it except you, and I am next in line.”
A slow smile filled Melek’s square face. “I will redeem it.”
Hadn’t he expected as much? Of course Melek would want it. Melek had always wanted the land Elimelech had sold to a neighbor. Boaz had never known him to be satisfied with his own portion.
The urge to breathe deeply filled Boaz, but he held it in check. He smiled as though Melek’s answer was a good thing and stood in a relaxed pose, hands at his sides.
Melek stood as if to leave, though they had not finished the legal portion of the transaction.
Boaz held up a hand. “There is more.”
Melek sat back down, his thin lips turning downward into a frown.
“The day you buy the field from the hand of Naomi, you also acquire Ruth the Moabite, the widow of Mahlon, in order to perpetuate the name of the dead in his inheritance.” Boaz watched the man, saw his eyes move as though a thousand thoughts went through his mind. He would be thinking of his estate, of course. If Ruth bore a son, the land he acquired would not become his at all but would belong to Ruth’s son. Hamul would gain nothing more than what his father already owned, and another son could jeopardize even that. And though Boaz knew Melek had struggled with Hamul’s disrespect of late, he could never deny the boy anything.
Melek studied his feet a moment, then looked steadily into Boaz’s eyes. “Then I cannot redeem it because I might endanger my own estate. You redeem it yourself. I cannot do it.” He reached for his sandal, as was the custom of law, and handed it to Boaz. “Buy it yourself,” he said as Boaz took the sandal from him.
Relief flooded Boaz. He turned to the elders and to the men and women who had come to stand at the gate, who had heard every word.
“Today you are witnesses that I have bought from Naomi all the property of Elimelech, Chilion, and Mahlon. I have also acquired Ruth the Moabite, Mahlon’s widow, as my wife, in order to maintain the name of the dead with his property, so that his name will not disappear from among his family or from his hometown. Today you are witnesses!”
The elders and the crowd spoke as one. “We are witnesses.”
A moment later, one of the elders stood and led the people in the blessing given at the weddings in Israel. “May the Lord make the woman who is coming into your house like Rachel and Leah, who together built up the house of Israel. May you act worthily in Ephrathah and be renowned in Bethlehem, and may your house be like the house of Perez, whom Tamar bore to Judah, because of the offspring that the Lord will give you by this young woman.”
The words were a reminder to Boaz of the same blessing they had given to him and Adi so many years ago. He swallowed hard, fighting myriad emotions he could barely identify. He was going to wed again. A woman would live under his roof and, God
willing, bear him a son to carry on Mahlon’s inheritance. So be it.
Ruth stood at the parapet, heard Naomi’s footsteps coming slowly up the ladder to the roof, and then felt her presence at her side. She glanced at her mother-in-law, saw the lines across her brow. So she was worried, despite her assurances.
“Do you think this day will ever end?” Ruth blew out a breath, the spindle and distaff motionless in her hands. Her shoulders sagged, exhaustion taking its toll.
“We will know soon, my daughter.” Naomi pointed toward the gate. “See the crowd that has gathered? So many! The transaction, the decision, is in process, and soon the outcome will be heard in the streets.”
Ruth felt her stomach dip. “I had thought . . . that is, I had expected Boaz would come and tell us himself.” She held Naomi’s gaze. “I didn’t expect to hear of my fate from the gossips.”
Naomi touched Ruth’s arm and drew her away from the parapet. “Boaz will come to tell us as soon as he can,” she said, her voice suddenly strong, full of confidence. “Though we may hear it from some of the women first.” She shrugged. “It is the nature of living in a town, my girl. With such a crowd at the gate, you can be sure that the news will spread. And quickly.” She glanced over her shoulder. “We best go downstairs and wait.”
Ruth nodded, too weary to argue. She wanted to stay, to watch the crowd disperse, to see if she could see him coming up the road, eager to tell her all.
But what if the news had not gone the way they both hoped? Her nerves frayed, she followed Naomi down the steps into the sitting room. Quiet descended, and Ruth placed the spindle and distaff into a basket that Boaz had given out of his generosity, along with the cushion where she sat.
She closed her eyes. So weary.
Voices in the courtyard moments later jolted her upright. Naomi was already standing, walking toward the court. Ruth shook herself to clear her head.
“What have you heard?” Naomi’s voice was clear through the open door. Ruth stood slowly and made her way to the threshold, certain she would need its strength to hold her upright.
“Boaz has acquired the land you are selling and Ruth as his wife!” Neta’s voice carried a lilt of joy.
Ruth clung to the threshold, watching Neta hug Naomi.
“Isn’t it wonderful? Boaz will marry again!”
“And Melek will not,” Naomi said wryly. “I am sure you are not disappointed in that.” The women exchanged a knowing smile.
“I am not disappointed by that at all. Three wives bring struggle enough. It is especially hard when the third wife gets the greatest respect all because she bore the son.” Derision laced her voice.
Ruth felt immense relief wash through her. Her knees weakened, and she feared the sheer weight of this burden now lifted would topple her. How was it possible to feel weak once a burden was no longer there?
Naomi turned toward her, arms outstretched. Ruth stumbled forward and fell into the older woman’s arms. “There, there. See, my daughter? Didn’t I tell you God would provide? That Boaz would not rest until the thing was settled?” She patted Ruth’s back.
“And now it is,” Neta said, coming alongside them. She too touched Ruth’s back. “May your union be blessed of Adonai.”
Ruth straightened, the realization that Boaz would come for her soon rushing through her. “Will he come for me now? Should I do something to prepare?”
Naomi shook her head. “He may come by to tell us, but the wedding will wait. He has announced his intentions, but wheat harvest is upon us. There is no time for celebration until all of the grain is in.”
Ruth breathed a sigh. “There is time then.”
“Yes, but very little,” Neta said, glancing Naomi’s way. “She will need new garments, and there is the betrothal ceremony, which must happen by week’s end, harvest or not.”
Naomi’s eyes lit, but Ruth knew only confusion. “Betrothal? But Mahlon came for me in a week and we were wed. Do you mean the feast that followed?”
Naomi shook her head. “No, no. Neta is right. A betrothal is the legal binding of the two of you together. People come bringing gifts, and there is eating and drinking and celebrating. Then the wedding happens up to a year later.”
Ruth’s eyes grew wide. “A year?” She had not expected that.
“But Boaz will have no need to wait a year, my daughter. He already has a home and can come for you anytime.” Naomi looked again to Neta. “Will you help me prepare this place to receive guests? Perhaps Gilah and Liora and some of the older children can be spared to help us fix the broken bricks and whitewash everything.”
Neta nodded, her smile wide. “And don’t worry about food. I am certain all of the women you have helped in the past will come to your aid now. You can help me to remember and assign treats to each woman willing to bake them.”
The women talked fast, their excitement palpable, and Ruth looked from one to the other, caught up in their joy. When they drew a breath, she spoke quickly. “But I thought the transaction at the gate was all the legality we needed for me to belong to Boaz. Why do we also need a betrothal?”
Naomi lifted her hands as if to say she had no answer. “Just let it be as it should be, my daughter. Yes, today’s transaction bound you to Boaz. But the betrothal is part of our tradition. You wouldn’t deny an old woman the pleasure of seeing her daughter truly wed, now would you?” She winked, and Ruth laughed.
“Of course not, Mother.” She hugged Naomi. “Just tell me what to do,” she said. And while the women continued to plan, Ruth’s heart sang.
39
Boaz hurried along Bethlehem’s streets, half running, half walking until at last his estate came into view. He slowed his steps, though his racing heart longed to rush into his rooms, change his clothes, and hurry to take Ruth from Naomi’s house.
But no. He should at least bathe first. He glanced heavenward. It was only midday. He had plenty of time.
Reuven entered the court, and Boaz sat on a bench while a younger servant removed his sandals to wash his feet. Boaz stayed him with his hand and addressed Reuven. “Have the servants draw a bath for me. I am sweaty and dirty from winnowing all night.”
Reuven quickly dispatched the younger servant to do Boaz’s bidding. “I take it all went well?” he asked, looking Boaz up and down. “I expected you when Ezra brought the carts full of grain.”
Boaz nodded. “I expected the same, but there has been a change in plans.” He went on to tell Reuven all that had happened with Ruth and Melek and that Ruth would be coming home to be his wife.
“When?” Reuven rubbed a veined hand over the back of his neck, and his intelligent eyes seemed to be calculating all the things the household would need to do for Ruth’s coming.
“I had thought to go get her now.” Boaz looked at his servant’s raised brow. “After I wash and dress for the occasion, of course.”
Reuven cleared his throat. “My lord, do you not think it wise to give the young woman time to prepare as well, time to make new garments and whatever it is a woman does to make herself ready?”
He hadn’t thought of that. She had seemed ready enough at the threshing floor. But he pushed that thought aside lest he turn crimson with embarrassment.
“There are traditions to go along with a marriage, my lord—the betrothal, the preparation for the bridegroom, the feast. Surely you recall how it was when you and Adi wed. The servants will need a few weeks at least, and then, of course, you have the wheat harvest to attend.” Reuven tilted his head in that knowing way he had. “You won’t have a moment to spare until the Feast of Weeks is past.”
Boaz sank deeper into the bench, his shoulders sagging. “But I was planning to go to her tonight, to tell her the news . . .” He looked beyond Reuven to the roof and the trees that stood tall beyond the wall.
“Then go to her and tell her. But let the rest of the things come as they should.”
“But the meeting at the gate already legally tied us as man and wife.” He felt the
slightest sense of defensiveness rise within him. He suddenly did not want to wait until the end of the wheat harvest and the feast at Shiloh.
“What better place to celebrate your wedding than on the way back from the Feast of Weeks, my lord?” Reuven’s words held annoying logic. “The men could follow you from Shiloh to Ruth’s house, and your servants could have a feast waiting here.”
It was true that only the men were required to appear before the Lord at Shiloh, but often whole families made a celebration of the days together.
“The women and servants could leave a day early to prepare here, while you could delay with the men for a freewill offering, then come to claim your bride.” Reuven spoke in a fatherly tone.
“You make much sense, my friend.” Boaz hated to admit it. A sigh escaped. “I will still bathe and dress and go to Naomi’s house and see if she agrees with you. If she does, we will wait, as you have suggested. If she does not, I will bring Ruth home at week’s end. That will give you time enough to make the house ready.”
Reuven dipped his head in a single nod. “Whatever you wish, my lord.”
Ruth glanced up at the sound of heavy footsteps in their courtyard. She looked at Naomi, who sat spinning the wool they had purchased into workable thread. At Naomi’s nod, Ruth stood, set the ball of yarn she had been untangling into a basket, and went to answer the knock on the door.
“Boaz.” His presence made her pause, and she had to tell her suddenly racing heart to still. “Won’t you come in?” She opened wide the door and ducked behind it, allowing him to greet Naomi. She drew a breath, then another. Had he come for her so soon? But Naomi had said—
“Naomi,” he said, bending low to take her hand. “Don’t get up on my account.”
“Welcome to our home, my son.” She smiled. “Please sit while Ruth draws some water for us.”
Redeeming Grace: Ruth's Story Page 23