Parshat Shoftim4 min read

Ruth and Naomi's Long Walk Back to Bethlehem

Naomi laid out every burden of Jewish life before Ruth would accept her conversion. Ruth heard every word and kept walking anyway.

Curated by Arthur · Told by Maggid ·
Table of Contents
  1. Two Widows, One Road
  2. What Naomi Said on the Road
  3. What Orpah's Return Meant
  4. The Arrival in Bethlehem

Two Widows, One Road

The road from Moab to Bethlehem is long, and Naomi walked it with the specific intention of making the woman beside her turn back. She had tried once already. She had stood at the edge of Moabite territory, where the road split, and told Ruth and her sister Orpah to go home to their mothers, to their gods, to the families who might still give them new husbands. Orpah had kissed her and wept and gone. Ruth had refused to move.

Naomi tried again. She was not being cruel. She was being honest, the way a woman who has lost a husband and two sons in a foreign land learns to be honest about what life costs. She knew what she was walking toward, and she knew what she was asking Ruth to walk toward with her. It would have been wrong to let the girl come without knowing.

What Naomi Said on the Road

The rabbinic tradition preserved a conversation that fills in the gap between Ruth's famous declaration and their arrival at Bethlehem. Naomi described Shabbat in its full weight: the prohibitions, the fire restrictions, the limits on travel, the things a Moabite woman would have done freely that she would do no longer. She described the laws of family purity that governed a Jewish marriage. She described the penalty courts. She described what it meant to be a member of a people who had accepted a covenant that carried consequences for violation.

Ruth listened. She did not interrupt. She did not soften the terms by asking if some of it could be negotiated. She said: your people are my people. Your God is my God. Where you die I will die.

The tradition reads this exchange as the standard by which all sincere conversion is measured. A conversion performed without full knowledge of the obligation is not a real conversion. What Naomi was doing on that road was not discouragement. It was the requirement.

What Orpah's Return Meant

The rabbis did not condemn Orpah. They noted that she had walked partway and turned back, and they read that partial journey as sincere. She had gone further than comfort required before deciding she could not go all the way. The tradition records that she received something for those steps, a form of credit for the distance she had traveled before the road became too much for her.

But they noted where Orpah went after she turned back. She returned to her people and her gods, and what followed from her return, in the generations after her, became part of the larger story in ways the tradition could not ignore. The contrast between the two daughters-in-law was not a judgment against Orpah so much as an accounting of what a single decision at a crossroads can produce over generations.

The Arrival in Bethlehem

When Naomi and Ruth entered Bethlehem, the city stirred. The women who had known Naomi when she left recognized her and went out to meet her. She told them: do not call me Naomi, pleasant. Call me Mara, bitter, because God has dealt bitterly with me. She had gone out full and come back empty.

Beside her stood Ruth, who had arrived empty by every measure the town could see: no husband, no family connections, no standing in Bethlehem, no history here. What Ruth brought was not visible at the gate. The town would see it later, in the fields of a man named Boaz, when what Ruth had carried all the way from Moab finally became apparent.


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From the tradition

Sources

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Legends of the Jews 2:31Legends of the Jews

Her story isn't just a sweet tale; it’s a foundation of Jewish tradition.

Ruth wasn's born Jewish. She was a Moabite princess. But her heart, it seemed, had other plans. Ruth's path crossed with Naomi, an Israelite woman who had suffered immense loss – her husband and sons had passed away while living in Moab. Naomi decided to return to her homeland, Bethlehem, and urged her daughters-in-law, including Ruth, to stay in Moab.

Ruth? She was different. Something had resonated deep within her, a connection to Naomi and her faith.

Naomi, as any good Jewish mother would, felt obligated to lay out the realities of Jewish life. As we find in the Talmud (Yevamot 47b), there's a requirement to dissuade converts, to explain the weight of the mitzvot (commandments) and the challenges of the Jewish path. It wasn't about pushing her away, but about ensuring she understood the commitment she was making.

So, Naomi warned Ruth. She spoke of the stringent observances, the Sabbaths and feast days that demanded dedication. She mentioned how Jewish women didn't partake in the kinds of amusements common in other cultures. Can you imagine that conversation? Naomi, weary and grieving, trying to explain the intricacies of a life so different from what Ruth knew.

But Ruth remained steadfast. Undeterred. She affirmed her willingness to embrace Jewish customs, to live by Jewish law. As Ginzberg beautifully recounts in Legends of the Jews, when Naomi declared, "We have one Torah (law), one law, one command; the Eternal our God is one, there is none beside Him," Ruth responded with words that have echoed through generations: "Thy people shall be my people, thy God my God." (Ruth 1:16)

Talk about a powerful moment!

And so, the two women journeyed together to Bethlehem. Can you picture them, these two figures bound by love and shared loss, walking towards an uncertain future?

Their arrival was no accident. As fate would have it, they reached Bethlehem on the very day that Boaz's wife was being buried. The whole town was gathered. The assembled crowd witnessed Naomi's return, a homecoming filled with both sorrow and, perhaps, a glimmer of hope. It's like a scene from a movie, isn't it? Everything aligning for a reason.

And what was that reason? Well, that's a story for another time. But let's just say that Ruth's unwavering devotion and her fateful encounter with Boaz would have consequences that changed the course of Jewish history. It makes you wonder, doesn't it? How seemingly small decisions, acts of faith and love, can ripple outwards, shaping the destiny of nations.

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Legends of the Jews 2:30Legends of the Jews

The story of Orpah, from the Book of Ruth, makes you think about just that.

Naomi, had lost her husband and two sons in Moab. Heartbroken, she decided to return to her homeland. Her daughters-in-law, both Moabite women, wanted to go with her. But Naomi, wise and knowing, foresaw the hardship they'd face in Eretz Yisrael, the Land of Israel. As Ginzberg retells it in Legends of the Jews, she worried they'd be treated poorly simply because of where they came from.

One daughter-in-law, Orpah, was eventually persuaded to stay behind. Naomi loved her, loved both of them for the love they’d shown her sons. It couldn't have been easy for these women, widowed and far from home. But Naomi felt she was doing what was best.

The story goes that Orpah walked with Naomi for four miles before turning back. Four miles of companionship, of shared grief, of difficult goodbyes. According to the Midrash (rabbinic interpretive commentary), she shed only four tears as she left. Was that a sign? Was it a measure of her devotion?

The text suggests it was. Almost immediately after parting ways with Naomi, Orpah, as the story goes, abandoned herself to an immoral life. Ouch. Harsh. But ancient texts often use stark contrasts to make a point.

But here's where it gets interesting. Even in Orpah's story, there's a strange kind of… balance. The narrative emphasizes that nothing goes unrewarded by God. For those four miles Orpah walked with Naomi, she was "recompensed." How? By giving birth to four giants. Yes, giants. Goliath, the very same Goliath who faced David, and his three brothers. Orpah, the woman who turned away, the one who seemingly wasn't "worthy" of joining the Jewish people, is still part of the story. Her lineage, though marked by the infamous Goliath, is acknowledged. Even her small act of kindness, walking those four miles, earned her a place in the grand scheme.

What does this mean? Is it a simple cause-and-effect relationship? Probably not. But it does suggest that every action, even the seemingly insignificant ones, has consequences. That even in darkness, there can be a glimmer of light. And that even those who stray from the path might still play a role in the larger story. The legend of Orpah, as we find in Legends of the Jews, invites us to consider the complexities of reward and punishment, and the enduring power of even the smallest act of kindness.

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