Story of Ruth

Let me share the story of Ruth, a narrative our Jewish neighbors read each year during Shavuot, the harvest festival. This tale journeys from deep sorrow to unexpected joy, embodying God’s steadfast love—hesed—a love that never lets go.

In the opening chapter, we meet Naomi and her husband, Elimelech, fleeing a famine in Bethlehem (the “House of Bread,” ironically empty of bread). 

They journey to Moab, a land viewed with deep prejudice by the Israelites. According to Deuteronomy, Moabites were forbidden from entering Israel’s assembly—a resentment rooted in old wounds when the Moabites offered no aid during Israel’s wilderness wanderings.

But this story isn’t about lingering prejudice; it’s about a love that transcends boundaries and heals old scars.

Tragedy strikes Naomi’s family. Her husband dies, leaving her a widow in a foreign land. Her two sons marry Moabite women, Orpah and Ruth, but within ten years, both sons die childless. Naomi is left bereft, feeling abandoned even by God. She renames herself Mara, meaning “bitter,” echoing the depth of her sorrow.

As the famine ends, Naomi decides to return to Bethlehem. She urges her daughters-in-law to stay in Moab, where they might find new husbands and rebuild their lives. Orpah chooses to stay, but Ruth makes a radical choice. She tells Naomi, “Where you go, I will go; where you lodge, I will lodge; your people shall be my people, and your God my God.” Ruth’s words are pure hesed, a love that commits without knowing what lies ahead. Her loyalty surpasses Abraham’s faith; she’s been called “a second Abraham,” willingly leaving her homeland for an uncertain future.

Imagine the courage this took—a young Moabite woman choosing to journey with her bereaved mother-in-law to a land where she might be unwelcome. It’s like someone today leaving everything familiar to stand beside someone they love, even if it means facing prejudice and uncertainty.

In Bethlehem, Naomi is weary and resigned, but Ruth takes the initiative. She gleans in the fields, gathering what the harvesters leave behind. In Israel, farmers were instructed to leave a portion of their crops for the poor and the foreigners—a mercy woven into their community life. Ruth catches the eye of Boaz, a wealthy landowner. He hears of her loyalty to Naomi and is moved. He instructs his workers to leave extra grain for her. Ruth’s hesed ignites a response of kindness in Boaz. Love begets love.

When Ruth asks why he is so kind, Boaz says, “May God reward you, under whose wings you have come to seek refuge.”

Seeing a glimmer of hope, Naomi realizes that Boaz could marry Ruth, preserving their family line. She advises Ruth to seek him out on the threshing floor. In a bold move, Ruth goes to Boaz as he sleeps and says, “Spread your cloak over me,” invoking his earlier blessing—in essence, proposing marriage. Boaz, moved by her courage, agrees.

In the final chapter, Ruth and Boaz marry and have a son. Naomi, once empty, now holds new life in her arms as a grandmother. The village women celebrate, saying, “Ruth is more to you than seven sons.” This child, Obed, becomes the grandfather of King David. Through Ruth, a Moabite woman, the lineage of Israel’s greatest king—and ultimately Jesus—is established.

The story of Ruth reminds us of hesed, the enduring, covenantal love of God. The love we vow in marriage, the love between parents and children, and the loyalty that binds communities all draw us into surprising places. Like Ruth, we might step into the unknown, guided by love and loyalty.

Ruth’s story shows us that steadfast love is God’s way of transforming tragedy into joy, strangers into family, and emptiness into fullness. And while the book of Ruth concludes, God’s story does not. We see it continue wherever it is lived out, inviting us into God’s boundless, redeeming love.