Ruth
The purpose of the human author of the Book of Ruth was probably to commemorate a beautiful episode in the history of the forefathers of King David and to show how piety perpetuates itself from generation to generation; for Ruth was the great-grandmother of David. The elaboration of the story would have been a congenial task for a member of the circle of literary men of consecrated genius that surrounded the throne of the psalmist king, busying itself especially with the poetical remains and ancient annals of the people of God and including such names as Asaph, Gad and Nathan; but whether any of these was the author it is now impossible to say; and the disposition of scholars at present is to float this, like every other Bible-book, as far down the stream as possible. There is really nothing to decide the date except general considerations, which one scholar can interpret in one way and another in another.
The divine Author, however, had remoter intentions; for Ruth was not an ancestress of David only, but of Jesus Christ; and she is one of the three women honoured with places in the tables of His genealogy found in the New Testament. Yet she was originally a heathen. In the story of her separation from the pagan Moabites, her union with the godly Boaz, and her connection in this way with the Saviour of mankind it is now impossible not to recognise a symbol of the “mystery,” so frequently referred to in the New Testament, that Jesus was to be the Saviour not of the Jews only but also of the Gentiles, and an anticipation of the saying of Jesus: “Whosoever will do the will of My Father which is in heaven, the same is My brother, and sister and mother.”
There is a more external but not uninteresting connection of this book with Christ in the fact that its principal scenes lie in the very fields of Bethlehem-Judah over which there sounded the song of the angels announcing His birth to the shepherds. It was here that Naomi lived with her husband, Elimelech, and her two sons, Mahlon and Chilion, before the famine broke out that drove them to Moab; and here Boaz likewise had his farm. Moab was not far distant. From these very fields of Bethlehem it is seen away to the East, bounding the horizon like an immense mountain- wall and overhanging the hill-country of Judah, though separated from it by the deep, mysterious gulf of the Dead Sea. It was somewhere on the hills of
Moab, or perhaps beside the dark and baleful shore of the Dead Sea itself, that the central incident of the book took place. That mountain-wall forms the extreme western limit of the highland country of Moab, which has always been a rich pastoral district. At certain periods of history it is found clasped in deadly wrestle with Israel; but at other times there was a certain amount of intercourse between the two nations, which traced their ancestry back to a common origin; and, indeed, Moab was a peaceful and comparatively civilised country. Thither, then, when hunted from the fields of Judah by the wolves of famine, Elimelech escaped with his family. But he did not long survive the change of residence. Famine he had escaped, but only to encounter death in another form. And a similar fate soon befell his two sons, who had married daughters of the foreign country in which they found themselves. Whether they were too little mindful of the distinction between the Lord’s people and the heathen, or whether their wives are to be looked upon as having become Jewish proselytes,* we do not know. But the young men soon died, leaving no offspring; and the three bereaved and lonely women occupied the house in which there was now no breadwinner. No wonder
Hardly, it is to be feared; because, when it is stated that Orpah went back to her gods, it seems to be implied that she had never renounced them.
Naomi’s heart reverted to her native fields or that, “hearing that the Lord had visited His people in giving them bread,” she rose up and set out thither. Her two daughters-in-law accompanied her, thus breaking up entirely the Moabite home.
The book derives a peculiar interest from its place among the books of the Bible. In our English Bible it comes immediately after the Book of Judges — that narrative of a wild and lawless time, full of feuds and bloodshed, crime and violence. This reminds us that amidst the stormiest epochs of history there are spots of peace and sunshine; for the story is an idyll of perfect beauty and charm, though there is no reason to doubt that in its details, as well as its general outline, it is a reproduction of fact. It is the first book of Scripture bearing the name of a woman; and its broadest interest lies in its delineation of the relation of woman to religion.
Naomi conveys the impression of a woman well advanced in years, yet not old. She had, however, reached the stage when the traveller on the journey of life does not see many of her kindred in front, but has both to choose the way for herself and to set an example to those who follow.
It is clear that her life had been one of much vicissitude and uncommonly severe trial. It is not on the rich but on the poor, or the comparatively poor, that the pinch of famine falls. It may, therefore, be inferred that, when the famine broke out, it found Elimelech and Naomi, although in possession of their ancestral inheritance, yet in circumstances of embarrassment. Then came the breaking-up of the home — a measure which would scarcely have been resorted to but when money and all other resources had failed. Then had Naomi to leave the farm in which she had hoped to pass her life and go away among strangers, who were not of her own kin or even of her own race, but foreigners and idolaters. Still, however, her family was intact; and love can conquer poverty and change. Then came the worst blow of all, when her husband was taken from her side. Still she had her two sons, grown to manhood, to lean upon and love; and the occupants of her heart were increased and her hopes borne far into the future, when the sons brought home wives that loved her. These hopes were, however, all crushed when, in the flower of their age, her sons were taken from her. No wonder, when she reappeared in Bethlehem, she was so changed in appearance with these griefs that her former acquaintance scarcely knew her and exclaimed, “Is this Naomi?” or that she cried out in the bitterness of her spirit, “Call me not Naomi (that is, ‘My delight ‘), but call me Mara (or ‘Bitter ‘); for the Almighty hath dealt very bitterly with me: I went out full, and the Lord hath brought me home again empty; why call ye me Naomi, seeing the Lord hath testified against me, and the Almighty hath afflicted me f”
The first thing that strikes an observer in Naomi’s character is a certain largeness of humanity. When her dearest were taken away, she still loved what was left, facing the world bravely, with a mind open to receive whatever good the future might bring. Her heart was still capable of sending out new blossoms. There is no more beautiful verse in the whole Book of Ruth than the one near the end where, after the birth of the son of Boaz and Ruth, it is said, “And Naomi took the child, and laid it in her bosom, and became nurse unto it.” The aged woman, after being scorched so long with the east- winds of adversity, was still capable of rejoicing in this young life and finding a warm place for it in her bosom.
Another proof of the same quality is the affection she secured from her two daughters-in-law. Very likely it was a great trial to her at first when, instead of two daughters of her own people, these two aliens, with their wild, unsanctified natures and their strange habits and customs, were brought home to her by her two sons. But she did not allow the trial to harden her against them. On the contrary, she set herself to win their love, trusting to time to make her own principles and character soften and alter theirs. And she was successful. Though they appear to have been of the most opposite dispositions, they both loved her fervently, they lived under her roof after their husbands died, and, when she made up her mind to return to Bethlehem, they both made known a passionate determination to accompany her.
A third proof of the same quality is her appreciation of how hard it was for her daughters-in-law to leave home and kindred, the habits and enjoyments of their native land, and to renounce the natural career of women young enough to be married and most likely to secure a comfortable establishment among their own people. She seems to have felt as if they might justly be angry at her, because it was by her sons that they had been left widows: “It grieveth me much for your sakes, for the hand of the Lord hath gone forth against me.” And afterwards she was most anxious to secure for Ruth, who had so generously clung to her, the comforts of a union with Boaz. It was she who devised the plan by which this was brought about, her feelings being expressed in the large-hearted words: “My daughter, shall I not seek rest for thee, that it may be well with thee?”
There is no more important quality for those who stand in relations to young women similar to those occupied to Ruth by Naomi. Piety is not enough. It has to be founded upon a largeness of humanity which is antecedent to piety. As no man will influence young men who is not himself manly, so no woman will do much good among younger women who does not possess a large heart. If any woman can be justly called Mara — if she is bitter, sour, censorious, conventional, as, alas, religious women sometimes are — she cannot represent religion advantageously among her own sex. It is the largenatured woman, with an overflow of love and the gift of being beloved, able to appreciate the exuberance of girls’ natures and to understand how difficult it is for them to renounce the world, who will be a Naomi to Ruths and Orpahs. There must even be a certain judicious negligence, a power of not seeing faults or seeing them through the fingers. Every little fault or peccadillo is not to be magnified into a sin; and, if those who are growing old wish to retain their influence with the young, they must not forget that they were once young themselves, fond of mirth and gaiety, laughing and loving, speculating and defying conventionality.
Yet Naomi cannot be quoted as an advocate for worldliness and unrestrained human nature. With all her generous large-heartedness, she was a woman of thorough religious principle. Through those ten weary years, in the tents of Kedar, she cherished unimpaired her devotion to the Holy Land of her fathers and the altar of her God, and she took the first opportunity of returning. Her sons may have forgotten the law of Moses, when they married heathen wives; but she converted one of her daughters-in-law and profoundly impressed the other. She set distinctly before her daughters-in-law the difficulties of the choice they must make in becoming members of the people of Israel. So vivid were the pictures she drew of the hardships of following her and the advantages of staying in Moab that it might be inferred she did not really wish them to go with her. But this would be as mistaken as to suppose that Jesus, when, in images of unsurpassed severity, He described the hardships of discipleship, was not desirous that the children of men should follow Him. Naomi wanted, as Jesus wants always, a decision of principle and not of mere impressions — a decision that would last and not be succeeded by regret and backsliding. Yet she was yearning with all her heart to take both daughters-in-law away from the unsanctified land with its impure associations.
It is this union of large humanity with religious decision which makes Naomi a typical figure. Some of those standing in similar relations to young women are thoroughly worldly in spirit, having only a thin veneer of religion; and the result is that the young, whose eyes are keen in detecting falsehood, think religion to be a mere pretence. Others are religious enough, but are so suspicious and censorious towards every exhibition of youthful spirits or human passion that those under their influence learn to dread and to hate all religion. Others still have a sincere religious interest and yet are aware that the young must be indulged, but are quite unable to reconcile these opposite points of view, and so, oscillating feebly between them, neutralise by the one half of their conduct what they aim at with the other. Rare is the gift of being thoroughly human, indulgent to faults, patient of shortcomings, sympathetic with youthful exuberance, and yet using all this part of one’s nature and conduct as a means of making the young love religion, admire Christian character, and finally themselves decide for Christ.
II
Both the daughters-in-law loved Naomi; both had powerfully experienced her influence; both started together to accompany her to the land of Judah; both lifted up their voice and wept, vowing they would never leave her, when she urged them to return home. Yet Orpah went back after all.
It is not unlikely that Orpah may all along have been the more ardent and demonstrative of the two, in the adoption of her new opinions and the announcement of her resolution to change her country and her god, till the moment of decision arrived. She was probably also quite sincere in it all, She never knew how weak her convictions were,
145 k how shallow the change that had passed over her, how strong were the natural instincts of her being, or how irresistible the habits of the old life, till she was put to the test through her feelings and sentiments having to be converted into action.
Orpah is the representative of a large class — of those who have religious impressions without religious principles. They have more or less connection with religion; they have desires to do well and none to do ill; they are related to religious persons and love them; and yet, when an hour of trial comes, making resolution and action necessary, they discover that their heart is in the world; and, giving up God and His people and a holy life, they follow their natural instincts and the way of the majority.
It is a touch of exquisite truthfulness that Orpah “kissed” Naomi, while Ruth “clave” to her. Persons of the Orpah- type are lavish of the outward signs of affection, but they are incapable of the actions which should accompany these demonstrations. They are not consciously insincere. Only they are self-indulgent; and it is easy to give a kiss, which costs nothing, instead of a kind act, which would cost something, or to produce a rush of tears instead of facing a hard duty. In one of George Eliot’s books there is an invalid lady lying in bed with her daughter. Turning suddenly worse, she calls to the ‘sleeper beside her to rise and bring her medicine from the mantelpiece. But the dainty girl hates to move about in the dark and to place her delicate feet on the cold hearthstone. So she lies still, pretending to be asleep; and the poor invalid has to fetch her medicine herself. In the morning the daughter awakes penitent and nearly smothers her mother with kisses.
It is more than likely that Orpah was the favourite with everybody. There is in such creatures a characterless capacity for both feeling and expressing affection which easily takes others in. But they take a friendship up the one day and set it down the next. For them the newcomer is always the most welcome. They love ardently, but forget easily. The one damning thing, however, about such a character is that, with all its intensity of feeling, it cannot face hardship and self-denial for the sake of others or of principle.
There is something extremely deceptive about such characters; and there must be few who cannot recollect the bitter discovery that it is possible to be soft as a peach outside but hard inside as a peachstone. Such a disposition frequently deceives even those who possess it; because, being conscious of strong feelings and elevated sentiments, they mistake these for strength of character and high principle. This fatal error is nursed by not a little of the literature of the time. The ideal of strength and originality set forth in many of the books most read by young girls is merely hysterical excitability; and it is not surprising that those who feed their minds on such materials, being conscious of unmeasured feelings and doing an occasional act of romantic generosity, have no idea how incapable they themselves are of following steadily an original course or sticking to a difficult resolution. Many a one who can weep floods of tears over a pathetic scene in a work of fiction never visits a poor person or even speaks to a person of a lower class.
It would be unfaithful to the subject not to notice what was the deciding temptation with Orpah and the point on which Naomi, with her knowledge of Orpah’s history and character, laid the principal stress. It was the chance of marriage. This is woman’s natural career. The instincts which make it so are not only among the strongest but among the most sacred in human nature; and, when they are guided by the light of religious principle, they lead to the formation of the best thing in the world — the nursery of all that is good, pure and lovely upon earth — the godly home. These natural affections are a light from heaven; yet they may be a light that leads astray. Many are the shipwrecks of fair Christian profession that have been made on this rock, women throwing away on a love or a union that must degrade them the better thoughts and resolutions of their youth. On the other hand, there are few heroisms recorded in the books of God more pathetic than the silent quenching of feelings and the unmarked extinction of natural hopes in minds that will not purchase even so precious a thing as love at the expense of conscience and self-respect.
It is with the profoundest pity, if also with a touch of resentment and contempt, that we see Orpah returning “unto her people and unto her gods.” The more we know of Moab, as it then was, the deeper will be this sentiment; for her return meant the voluntary forsaking of the best she had ever known and the abandonment of the true hope in her future. It meant returning to dwell among influences worldly, heathenish, impure. It meant going back to participation in the licentious orgies of Baal-Peor. There would come a time when to her the best she had known would be a painful memory only — a thorn in the flesh — or, worse still, a thing altogether forgotten, if she were so sunk in degradation that she could forget. It is pitiable to see a human soul voluntarily going into an environment where it must harden and be separated more and more widely from all that is good. And there will come at last the final separation, wide as the poles of the universe — the separation of death, judgment and eternity.
III
The figure of Ruth is one of the most beautiful in the whole gallery of female portraiture; and it is no wonder that art has often chosen it as a subject for the brush or the chisel. To put it into words is not easy, yet the details stand out with tempting clearness — her love for her aged mother-in-law, so tender and steadfast, showing itself, unlike Orpah’s, less by outward demonstration than by constant acts of kindness, so that not only did Naomi privately recognise it, but it became so notorious that Boaz had, as he acknowledged, heard all that she had done to her mother-in-law; her receptive, yet independent and consistent mind, which, becoming aware of the contrast between the habits of the Moabites and the life of Naomi, allowed itself to be transformed by contact with the good angel sent to her by Providence, till the wild, unsanctified habits of her former self disappeared; the diligence and cheerfulness she exhibited in the poor home at Bethlehem; the delicacy with which, armed only with the modesty of her own nature, she trod undefiled, in obedience to the voice of duty, along the hazardous path of an old and indelicate custom; and the success which everywhere attended her — the universal favour and regard she excited in her neighbours; her union with a man of such goodness and greatness as Boaz; the birth of her son and her placing the infant in the glad arms of Naomi; the royal seed which sprang from her; above all, her crowning distinction as the ancestress of Jesus. It is all a gladdening illustration of the great words, “Them that honour Me, I will honour.”
But the central interest of her story is the choice made by her at the parting of the ways, when Orpah went back and she went forward. The Book of Ruth may be called the Book of Decision; and it rises without effort into the purest poetry, when it gives her resolution in the matchless words:
Entreat me not to leave thee,
And to return from following after thee:
For whither thou goest, I will go;
And where thou lodgest, I will lodge:
Thy people shall be my people,
And thy God my God:
Where thou diest will I die,
And there will I be buried:
The Lord do so to me, and more also,
If aught but death part thee and me.
Her choice may have begun with attachment to her mother-in-law, by the fragrance of whose character her moral sense had been captivated; it was expanded into a choice of the people of God also, when she learned to know the difference between them and the inhabitants of her native land; it deepened into a choice of God as her God, and this was the interior link which held fast at the critical moment. It determined the place of her abode, because, where Naomi was, was home to her. It was an eternal choice: naught but death could separate her from Naomi; and, whether then it was known to her or not, even death was not to separate her from Naomi and Naomi’s God.
It has been made a reproach to Christianity that the virtues it cultivates are the feminine ones, to the disparagement of the masculine virtues. But what are the masculine virtues? In the scheme of Aristotle, to which Nietzsche wished to carry the world back, the two prime virtues were magnanimity and magnificence. Magnanimity is the self-consciousness of one who knows his own value and goes his own way without regard for what the multitude think of him; and magnificence is the conduct of one who incurs expenditure for the public good, not asking what it will cost but only how to make it worthy of the object to which it is devoted. Certainly these are manly virtues, and Aristotle thought of them only as the possession of rare and fortunate individuals. But Christianity has made even these the privileges of the woman no less than the man, and it has made them accessible to everyone willing to obey the call of the Gospel. Christ calls every disciple to a double choice; for He calls everyone both out of the world and into the Kingdom of God. To forsake the world, however, involves magnanimity in the Aristotelian sense; for a Christian must be sure enough of his own convictions to abandon his former habits and society and, if need be, stand alone against the world. And magnificence, in the Aristotelian sense, is no less involved in the other half of the choice — entering into the Kingdom of God — because, in making that Kingdom come and causing the will of God to be done on earth as it is in heaven, every Christian is involved in tasks of world-wide extent, requiring originality, devotion, expenditure; and, though poor, he may be making many rich.
There are some books of the Old Testament redolent of the bondage and imprisonment to which woman is subject in the East; but in this open-air book how free is the atmosphere and how natural the development of character! It is a prophecy of the great New Testament principle, that in Christ there is neither male nor female; as well as of those developments, still in progress, by which woman is securing her due place in the home, the State and the Church; while, at the same time, woman is reminded that the charter of her emancipation is the personal and ardent choice of that good part which shall not be taken away from her.