by Carolyn Custis James
Throwing out a baby girl to die on the dung heap or burning a widow on her husband’s funeral pyre are among some of the most appalling value statements the world has ever made about women. Negative statements about women run from these extreme atrocities to milder, more polite forms. But they all belong to the same fallen value system. The Bible’s view of women rejects that entire system and introduces a whole new way of thinking. God’s views of his daughters and his large vision for their roles in his kingdom are on a collision course with the world’s view of women, and that collision is showcased in the book of Ruth.
In a way, the Ruth story reminds me of the prophet Elijah, who poured gallons of water on an altar he actually wanted God to ignite. To make sure no one missed the point of what God was doing, Elijah stacked the deck, so to speak, before he started to pray. The book of Ruth achieves a similar effect by juxtaposing God’s view of women against the harshest possible backdrop.
The story begins by taking us into the patriarchal culture — a world that advantages men by birth and automatically sends women to the back of the bus. But reducing women to second-class citizens isn’t nearly a dark enough setting for God to make his point. The situation gets much worse.
The two women God selects as Exhibits A and B are thrown off the bus. A series of tragedies, deaths, and disappointments evict Naomi and Ruth from hearth and home — the one sphere a woman could count on for safety and purpose. No longer wives or mothers, they are cast out on their own, stranded in a culture that works against them, deprived of tools, resources, and opportunities they need to get back on their feet. Ground zero is their home address.
Although the ancient Israelite culture didn’t burn widows alive, it was still a brutal environment for the disconnected woman. Widows were discarded as though they didn’t exist. Had these two widows lived in a culture that observed sati, both women would have perished in the flames. Instead, they lived as outcasts in circumstances far worse than sati according to a Vrindavan widow who knew what she was talking about. Against this blackened canvas, God splashes the vivid colors of a totally different view of women. Instead of losing interest in these two useless widows, he makes them the center of attention.
Instead of erasing them from his story as noncontributors, he colors them into mission-critical roles. These were the dark days when the judges governed. God’s chosen people were losing their way. God’s strategy involves recruiting two women to carry his redemptive purposes forward into the future. Ruth and Naomi do not let him down. With all of the heady things that were going on at the time — in palace throne rooms, at city gates, and on international battlefields — Ruth and Naomi capture the headlines.
These women are Yahweh’s image bearers. Even their ordinary activities are laden with significance. They represent his interests in this world and a lot is riding on what they do at this crucial juncture in Israel’s history. What looks from their vantage point as simple acts of loving and caring for one another will actually take on cosmic proportions. They labor and sacrifice to bring blessing to each other, and simultaneously bring blessing to the world.
As a quick aside, it’s worth noting that God did not raise up women because there was a shortage of capable men — an explanation we often hear that’s intended to qualify what God is doing through women. But that doesn’t apply here. Bethlehem is not suffering from a vacuum of male leadership. To the contrary, Bethlehem boasts at least one man (and probably more) who epitomized everything you’d ever hope to find in a godly male leader. Boaz has a strong reputation as a leader. His subsequent actions prove he is a man of action and a masterful leader, not the kind of man to shirk responsibility or retreat from a challenge. God could easily have chosen to work through men. He chose two women instead.
The miracle birth of Obed [King David’s grandfather] is truly the most joyful moment in the book, hailed by the women who celebrate with Naomi. This child renews Naomi’s life. Instead of the dead end she had reached, Obed creates for Naomi a brand-new opening into the future and a vital new kingdom assignment. Naomi would be poorly equipped to do the job of raising the king’s grandfather with an untested faith and a shallow knowledge of God that was derived from hearing the Scriptures read in corporate worship and picking up secondhand information about him from other believers. She can’t coast on Elimelech’s theology either or the teachings of her parents. Vital as all these other resources and influences are, Naomi’s participation in kingdom building is seriously impaired if she doesn’t know God for herself.
She has to experience him, not just learn about him. That means walking with him through storms, adversities, disappointments, and losses. For Naomi, it involved spending time at ground zero — getting angry, feeling betrayed, abandoned, and forgotten. She had to ask the hard questions, cope with unanswered prayers, and endure countless sleepless nights filled with doubts, fears, and anxieties. She had to find God’s hesed [kindness] in the middle of the mess. The dark night of the soul is an awful place to be, but that’s where God trains his best warriors. Although Naomi looked and felt as if her life was being dismantled and she was being put out of action, God was actually raising her up and equipping her for a mission-critical assignment in his kingdom.
No psalm bears the name Naomi as the lyricist. But traces of her theology are scattered all through the psalms of David, for it is certain that Naomi’s influence reached the sweet psalmist of Israel, whose theological roots can be traced through his father, Jesse, to his grandfather, Obed, the child Naomi holds in her arms. Obed learned deep lessons about God at the knee of this female Job. Ellen F. Davis captures the scene: “The book ends in a way that we do not expect. Boaz and our heroine Ruth are gone from sight, a clear indication that this book is finally something other than a romance. In the end, only the old woman is left, holding the child who is her future and that of her people.”
The birth of Obed is a picture of the gospel — suffering and sacrifice, the joy of renewed life, and hope for the future all mingled together. This is the Gospel of Ruth.
From The Gospel of Ruth by Carolyn Custis James
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