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Ruth Refused to Leave Naomi and Walked Into a New People

Naomi told both daughters-in-law to find new husbands. Orpah wept and turned back. Ruth refused with words that have outlasted every kingdom in the story.

Curated by Arthur · Told by Maggid ·
Table of Contents
  1. The Road Between Moab and Bethlehem
  2. The Speech on the Road
  3. Boaz Notices Who Is Watching His Fields
  4. The Night on the Threshing Floor

The Road Between Moab and Bethlehem

Naomi had nothing left. Her husband Elimelech was dead, buried in Moab. Her two sons were dead. She was going back to Bethlehem because there was nothing holding her in Moab, and Bethlehem was still the place where her God was, even if that God had dealt bitterly with her. Her own word for herself was Mara. Bitterness. She had gone out full and come back empty.

She stopped on the road and turned to the two Moabite women who were walking with her. Orpah and Ruth had been her sons' wives. She loved them. That was precisely why she was telling them to go home. She had nothing to offer them. She was too old to remarry, too old to bear more sons for them to wait for. Whatever life she was walking toward in Bethlehem was not a life she could share with them. "Go back," she said. "Go back to your mothers' houses. Find husbands. Live."

Orpah wept, kissed Naomi, and walked back toward Moab. Ruth did not move.

The Speech on the Road

Naomi pressed Ruth again. "Look," she said. "Your sister-in-law has gone back to her people and to her gods. Go with her." Ruth answered with words that have been quoted in every century since. "Do not urge me to leave you or to turn back from following you. Where you go, I will go. Where you lodge, I will lodge. Your people are my people. Your God is my God. Where you die, I will die. Where you are buried, I will be buried. May God deal with me severely if anything but death separates me from you."

She was giving up the only world she had ever known. Moab was her home, her language, her family, her gods. The God of Israel was not the god she had grown up with. She had no way to know whether the God of Israel would receive a Moabite woman, and she was making the choice without that assurance. She was choosing Naomi, and accepting the God who came with Naomi, in that order.

Boaz Notices Who Is Watching His Fields

In Bethlehem, Ruth went out to the barley fields to glean what the harvesters left behind. The field she chose happened to belong to Boaz, a man of Elimelech's family and a man of standing in the city. Boaz arrived from the city, looked over his workers, and asked his foreman about the young woman he did not recognize. The foreman told him: the Moabite girl who came back with Naomi, who asked permission to glean and has been working since morning without resting.

Boaz went to Ruth directly. "Stay in my fields," he told her. "Do not go to any other. I have told the young men not to bother you. When you are thirsty, drink from what my workers have drawn." She bowed her face to the ground and asked why he was showing such kindness to a foreigner. He said: "I have been told everything you have done for your mother-in-law since your husband's death, how you left your father and mother and your homeland and came to a people you did not know. May God repay what you have done."

The Night on the Threshing Floor

Naomi read the situation. Boaz was a near kinsman, one of the men who had legal standing to redeem Elimelech's estate and marry his widow or his son's widow and carry the family line forward. She instructed Ruth with precision. Wash, put on your best clothes, go down to the threshing floor after the feast, and when Boaz has eaten and drunk and lies down, uncover his feet and lie there. He will tell you what to do.

Ruth did as Naomi said. At midnight Boaz woke and found a woman lying at his feet. "Who are you," he said. She told him: "I am Ruth your servant. Spread your cloak over me, for you are a redeemer." Boaz did not misread the request. He knew the custom, the legal institution of levirate kinship, the responsibility that came with the relationship. He told her: "there is a kinsman closer than I am. Let that man consider the matter first. If he will not act, I will. As God lives, I will act."

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The texts this telling draws on, in full. Open a card to read inline, or expand it for a wider, quieter read.

Antiquities V.10Antiquities of the Jews (Josephus)

Eli the high priest had two sons who were a disgrace to everything he stood for. Hophni and Phinehas served at the Tabernacle in Shiloh, but they used their priestly office as a license for corruption. They stole the choicest portions of sacrificial offerings. They forced themselves on women who came to worship at God's sanctuary. Josephus does not mince words, their entire lives amounted to tyranny.

Eli rebuked them, but his words had no force. He knew, with a prophet's certainty, that punishment was coming. And it was during this same dark period that God chose to raise up something extraordinary from the most unlikely place.

Elkanah, a Levite of modest standing from Ramathaim in the territory of Ephraim, had two wives. Peninnah had borne him children. Hannah, the wife he loved most, had none. Every year at the festival in Shiloh, Hannah watched Peninnah's children gather around their mother while she sat empty-handed. The grief finally broke her. She went to the Tabernacle, weeping, and prayed for a son, vowing that if God answered, she would dedicate the child entirely to His service (1 Samuel 1:11).

Eli saw her lips moving without sound and assumed she was drunk. When she explained her anguish, he blessed her and told her God would grant her request. She left full of hope. Within the year, Samuel was born, his name meaning "asked of God." True to her vow, Hannah brought him to the Tabernacle as soon as he was weaned and left him in Eli's care. The boy's hair was never cut. He drank only water. He grew up inside the sanctuary itself.

At twelve years old, Samuel received his first prophecy. God called his name in the night, three times. And each time the boy ran to Eli, thinking the old priest had summoned him. On the third time, Eli understood. "It is God who calls you," he said. "Answer Him." What God told Samuel was devastating: Eli's sons would die on the same day, and the priesthood would be stripped from his family forever, because Eli had loved his sons more than he loved God's worship. Eli made Samuel repeat every word. The old man accepted it without protest. And from that night forward, everything Samuel prophesied came true (1 Samuel 3:19).

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Legends of the Jews 4:109Legends of the Jews

It all starts with a story, a tale of spies, tears, and a day destined for sorrow.

Moses and Aaron, leaders of the Israelites, send spies to scout out the land of Canaan, the promised land. But when the spies return, they don't bring back tales of milk and honey, but whispers of giants and insurmountable obstacles. Fear, not faith, fills their hearts. And that fear? It spreads like wildfire.

These spies, instead of keeping their misgivings to themselves, went into overdrive. According to Ginzberg's retelling in Legends of the Jews, they "employed every means of inciting the people into rebellion against Moses and God." It wasn’t enough for them to simply voice their doubts; they had to actively sow seeds of discontent.

What did that look like? Picture this: each spy returns home, puts on mourning clothes, and begins to weep, loudly, dramatically. "Woe is me!" they cry, as Ginzberg recounts. Their families, naturally, are alarmed. What could possibly cause such grief?

And here's where the manipulation really takes hold. The spies, through their sobs, paint a terrifying picture: "Woe is me for ye, my sons, and woe is me for ye, my daughters and daughters-in-law, that are doomed to be dishonored by the uncircumcised and to be given as a prey to their lusts." They describe the inhabitants of Canaan as superhuman, powerful beyond measure. "These men that we have beheld are not like unto mortals," they claim. "Strong and mighty as angels are they; one of them might well slay a thousand of us!"

Can you feel the despair rippling outwards? The families, overcome by fear, join in the weeping. Neighbors rush in to see what's happening, and soon the entire Israelite camp, sixty myriads of people, we're told, is consumed by wails and lamentations. A collective sob echoing through the desert.

And that sound, that chorus of despair, reaches heaven. God hears their weeping, but is it a weeping of repentance? No. It's a weeping of baseless fear, of a lack of faith. And God responds with a profound and heartbreaking prophecy: "Ye weep to-day without a cause, I shall see to it that in the future ye shall have a cause to weep on this day."

As we find in Midrash Rabbah, it was then that God decreed the destruction of the Temple would occur on Tisha B'Av, the ninth day of the Hebrew month of Av. This day, which began with the Israelites' unwarranted tears in the wilderness, became, and remains, a day of mourning for generations to come. A day to commemorate the destruction of both the First and Second Temples in Jerusalem, and numerous other tragedies that have befallen the Jewish people throughout history.

So, what's the takeaway? Perhaps it's a reminder of the power of words, the contagious nature of fear, and the enduring consequences of a lack of faith. Tisha B'Av isn't just a historical marker; it's a call to examine our own fears, to question the narratives we accept, and to choose faith over despair, even when the giants seem insurmountable.

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Ruth Rabbah (Lerner)Ruth Rabbah (Lerner)

Not just the biblical Ruth, but the Ruth we meet in the rabbinic imagination – a figure so compelling that her story continues to resonate with us centuries later.

The familiar version gives us the basic story: Ruth, a Moabite woman, chooses to stay with her Jewish mother-in-law, Naomi, after tragedy strikes. She famously declares, "Your people shall be my people, and your God, my God." (Ruth 1:16). Simple enough. But what does that really mean?

The rabbis, those masterful interpreters of scripture, unpack that declaration in fascinating ways in Ruth Rabbah, a Midrashic (rabbinic interpretive commentary) compilation that delves deep into the Book of Ruth. And it's here that we start to see the layers of meaning.

So, the story turns to those two key phrases: "Your nation is my nation," and "Your God is my God."

Ruth Rabbah doesn't just take these lines at face value. It sees them as a profound transformation. When Ruth says "Your nation is my nation," it’s not just about changing citizenship. It’s about shedding her past, shedding her former beliefs. According to Ruth Rabbah (6), this declaration "refers to abandoning my idolatry." Ruth isn't just joining a new family; she's actively rejecting the gods she grew up with. This is a powerful statement of faith, a complete break with her previous life.

It makes you wonder, what was it that Ruth saw in Naomi and her people that made her willing to give up everything she knew?

But the story doesn’t end there. What about the second part? "And your God is my God." It's tempting to see this as simply accepting a new deity. But Ruth Rabbah (7) gives us a more nuanced understanding. It suggests that "Your God is my God" implies that Ruth is ready "to pay the reward of my deeds." In other words, she accepts the consequences, both good and bad, that come with following this new path. She’s not just embracing a new faith, but also taking responsibility for her actions within that faith. She understands that actions have consequences, and she's willing to accept them as part of her commitment.

Think about the weight of that decision. Ruth wasn't just making a casual statement. She was consciously choosing a new way of life, with all its potential challenges and rewards. And it's through this lens that we can truly appreciate the depth of her character.

Ruth's story, as interpreted by the rabbis, isn't just a sweet tale of loyalty. It's a powerful narrative about conversion, about faith, and about the courage to embrace a new identity. It’s about recognizing the divine spark in another culture and being willing to make a complete transformation. And ultimately, it's a reminder that sometimes, the greatest blessings come from taking the biggest leaps of faith.

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