“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.”
Elimelech never could see his blessings.
Boaz didn’t want to think about the past, but it was there stirring long-forgotten feelings inside him, feelings he thought he’d smothered by hard work. But they were like the hyssop that grew from a stone wall. What use was there in going over hard words exchanged twenty years ago? What use in reliving the pain and frustration of trying to help another before he brought disaster on his own head? Elimelech had failed to realize how richly he’d been blessed by God, even during those famine years. Mightily blessed, but blind to see it. Boaz had talked long and hard and succeeded in accomplishing nothing but a broken relationship and hard feelings on his cousin’s side. All these years later, Boaz could still remember as though it were this morning when he stood at the city gate watching Elimelech take Naomi and their two sons away from Bethlehem.
Ah, Naomi, sweet, vibrant Naomi . . .
He’d wept that day, though no one had known the fullness of his grief.
Since then, the Lord had poured bounty into his hands, so much bounty that it naturally overflowed into the hands of others in need of it. The long years had been filled with purpose and thanksgiving, if not the joy he had hoped for. He’d always had more than he needed and knew he had God to thank for it. Even though the Lord had denied him the one thing he’d prayed for with such fervent longing, Boaz praised His name. God was sovereign, and it wasn’t for a man to question or grieve for what he could not have. Boaz found contentment in accepting his life as it was and thanking God for it.
As he rounded the curve, Boaz saw the field of ripe grain stretching out before him. The workers were singing as they worked. He smiled, for he wanted his servants to be happy in their labor and not just going through the motions to receive what they needed to sustain life. Life should be bounteous, and he did what he could to make it so for those who worked for him. Surely the pleasure men and women received from food and drink and the work of their hands was a gift from the hand of God.
A young woman worked in the farthest corner of his field. He’d never seen her before, but he knew by her dress that she was not from among his people. A Moabite. Most gleaners stayed within easy walking distance of the city. Why had this one come so far? He dismounted and tied up hi
s horse near the shelter. “Good day, Shamash. The work is going well, I see.”
“Indeed, Boaz. The crop is even better than last year.”
“Who is that girl over there?”
“She is the young woman from Moab who came back with Naomi. She asked me this morning if she could gather grain behind the harvesters. She has been hard at work ever since, except for a few minutes’ rest over there in the shelter.”
Naomi’s daughter-in-law! He had heard about her soon after the two women arrived in Bethlehem. People had been talking about the young Moabitess ever since.
“She has come a long way to glean.”
“She looked as though she’d had a hard time at another field.”
Boaz glanced at him. “Then she did well to come here.” He put his hand on Shamash’s arm and smiled. “Talk with the young men, and make sure no one bothers her.” He went out into the field among his servants and spoke to them. “The Lord be with you!”
“The Lord bless you!” they said in return.
When he went to the young woman at the corner of the field, she stopped working and bowed her head in respect. She didn’t look into his eyes, but she greeted him like a slave would greet a master. She showed uncommon respect. His heart softened when he saw how the stalks of barley in her hand shook slightly. “Listen, my daughter,” he said gently. “Stay right here with us when you gather grain; don’t go to any other fields. Stay right behind the women working in my field. See which part of the field they are harvesting, and then follow them. I have warned the young men not to bother you. And when you are thirsty, help yourself to the water they have drawn from the well.”
She glanced up in surprise. “Thank you.” Her smile made her quite beautiful.
He felt an odd sensation in his chest as he looked into her dark eyes. Here now, what is this? He felt a twinge of embarrassment at his attraction, for he was more than twice her age.
“Why are you being so kind to me?” she asked, her voice sweet and thickly accented. “I am only a foreigner.”
And clearly had been treated as one, for there was a bruise and an abrasion on her cheek. “Yes, I know. But I also know about the love and kindness you have shown your mother-in-law since the death of your husband.” His voice deepened as his emotions rose. “I have heard how you left your father and mother and your own land to live here among complete strangers. May the Lord, the God of Israel, under whose wings you have come to take refuge, reward you fully.” Surely the Lord had shown great mercy to those who belonged to Him. As Naomi always had. And now, this young woman.
Ruth’s cheeks turned red. “I hope I continue to please you, sir,” she replied. “You have comforted me by speaking so kindly to me, even though I am not as worthy as your workers.”
Noticing the bruise again, he asked gently, “Did someone hit you?”
She frowned slightly and then looked startled. She raised her hand instinctively to cover the mark and lowered her head as though to hide it. “Only a small stone. No great harm done. I suppose it’s to be expected.”
As though that would excuse such treatment. “It had better not happen in my field,” he said darkly.
“Oh, it didn’t happen here,” she said quickly. “No one has bothered me since I arrived.”
Boaz felt shame that any of his neighbors would treat her so cruelly.
He wanted her to feel safe, but he didn’t want her to misinterpret his intentions. She was a comely young woman, and no doubt had received the attentions of much younger men than he. “Be at ease among us, Ruth. You’re safe here.”
He left her to her work, thinking as he walked away that young Mahlon had shown uncommon wisdom in choosing a girl like this one to be his wife. Not all foreign women were a curse on Hebrew men, drawing them away from the true God into lustful pagan worship. Some foreign women had been grafted in among God’s chosen people because of their great faith.
His mother, Rahab, had been such a woman. She’d welcomed two Hebrew spies into her house in the wall of Jericho. Unashamed, she had boldly declared to them her faith in Yahweh, the God of the Hebrews. She’d risked her life to be aligned with God and His people. One of those spies had been his father, Salmon. And God had blessed both his parents, for they had loved one another throughout their lives.
Nevertheless, God had warned His people against the miseries of yoking themselves to foreigners. Men were too easily seduced away from God by the wiles of women. But what constituted a foreigner? Surely this young Moabitess was one of God’s people. She had declared her faith by turning her back on life in Moab and coming to Bethlehem with Naomi. This girl was like his mother, who had been a standing stone of faith among a mountain of loose gravel. Boaz often wondered if it wasn’t faith—not just Hebrew blood—that declared one chosen by God. For surely it was and always had been God who selected those who would belong to Him.
But perhaps that was merely the old hurt rising within Boaz, rationalizing and justifying the match his father had made. Even after all these years, he felt the pang of rejection. Hadn’t he been turned away as a suitor because he was half Canaanite? There were those among God’s people who thought the bloodline to Abraham was all that God counted as righteous, and faith a mere by-product of blood.
Boaz paused at the edge of his field, gazing back at the young woman gleaning behind his reapers. She gathered a stalk here and a stalk there, cradling them in her arms. Her attire proclaimed her a young woman of the city. Yet, here she was in his field, doing backbreaking work in the heat of the day, and grateful for the opportunity. And why did she work so hard? To provide for her Hebrew mother-in-law. Were there any young women among his people that would do such a thing for someone not of Abraham’s blood?
Something stirred within him, pain and pleasure at the same time. How long since he had felt this yearning? He smiled in self-mockery and turned away.
A pity Ruth was so young, and he so old.
* * *
Ruth heard a man call her name. When she glanced up, she saw Boaz standing before the shelter, motioning for her to come. “Come over here and help yourself to some of our food. You can dip your bread in the wine if you like.”
Her heart thumped heavily as she placed her gleanings in a careful bundle and left them where she had been working. She was amazed that a man of his station would take notice of a dirty, sweating foreigner at all, let alone invite her to share a meal with his workers. Before entering the shelter, she washed her hands in the water provided. She was embarrassed by the curious looks of his workers. The men perused her from the hem of her dress to the top of her head, while the women whispered among themselves.
“May I sit here?” she said at an open place among his maidservants.
The girl sitting closest moved over. “Should I say no when the master has invited you?”
Ruth’s face went hot. When she sat down, she noticed how the girl beside her shifted again, increasing the distance between them. Folding her hands in her lap, she bowed her head and closed her eyes as Boaz blessed the food. When he finished, those around her began to talk among themselves again. They made no effort to include her in their conversation, nor did she expect it of them. She was surprised to see the master himself serving his workers. When Boaz came to her, he gave her a double portion. She glanced up in surprise and saw him frowning down at her hands. She drew them back and clasped them beneath the table again. Had she committed some breach of etiquette? When she dared look up, the others glanced away, talking among themselves. She was so hungry her stomach rumbled loudly, embarrassing her even more. Boaz had given her more than enough to satisfy her hunger. She put half of the double portion of bread into her shawl for Naomi, and then tore off a piece of the second portion and dipped it into the wine.
Gradually, the whispering curiosity lessened as the young women around her talked and laughed, as did the young men on the other side of the enclosure.
Ruth watched Boaz surreptitiously as he sat with his overseer. Despite t
he disparity of their positions, the two men talked with the ease of good friends. The overseer was young enough to be Boaz’s son. He was a handsome man, powerfully built with dark hair and eyes. Boaz was plain. His hair and beard were streaked with gray, the two thick curls at his temples white. He was not attractive in any way that would draw attention. Yet his kindness made her heart soften toward him. His tender care touched some deep place within her. When he turned his head slightly and looked her way, she lowered her eyes again. It was not proper for her to study any man, let alone one who was so far above her station. As she looked away, she encountered the open stares of several young men. One grinned at her. She looked away quickly so that he would know his attentions were unwelcome.
She did not linger over the meal but returned quickly to the field, gleaning in the distant corner where she would neither offend the maidservants nor attract unwanted interest from the reapers.
* * *
Boaz took Shamash aside before the reapers returned to the fields. “The young men have taken notice of the Moabitess.”
He laughed softly. “Any man breathing would take notice of her.”
“See that no one takes advantage of her.”
Shamash’s grin faded. “Of course.” He nodded.
Boaz put his hand on the overseer’s arm. “I know you wouldn’t allow her to be mistreated, but there are those, even among our workers, who are clearly disturbed by the presence of a Moabitess.”
“The young women.” His mouth tipped.
Boaz removed his hand from Shamash. “Did you notice her fingers are raw and bleeding?”
Frowning, Shamash looked out into the field where Ruth was working. “She hasn’t the tools for the work.”
“Precisely. When I’ve gone, go out and tell her to glean behind the workers. Give this young woman time and opportunity to prove herself.”
Then Boaz called the younger men to him. When they gathered around him, he looked each in the eye. “You have all noticed the young gleaner among us. Her name is Ruth, and she’s providing for her mother-in-law, Naomi, wife of our brother Elimelech. Let her gather grain right among the sheaves without stopping her. And pull out some heads of barley from the bundles and drop them on purpose for her. Let her pick them up, and don’t give her a hard time! Whatsoever you do to this young woman, you do to me.”
A Lineage of Grace Page 29