why the Abbot left with the brother

At a certain monastery, a certain brother was found out by the other brothers to have sinned.

They deliberated: “What should we do with this brother who has sinned?”

They determined: “Throw him out. He can no longer dwell with us.”

And, as the offending brother was leaving, the Abbot went with him.

Surprised, the brothers asked the Abbot: “Where are you going?”

The Abbot replied: “I am leaving with my brother—for I, too, am a sinner.”

…………………………………………

We long for justice and, thus, we are quick to condemn. “What they have done is wrong. They must be punished. They must be called out and cast out.”

But we forget that to act justly is to love mercy and to walk humbly. That is what the prophet Micah of antiquity said. That is what the Abbot understood.

…………………………………………………

When Jesus called Levi the tax collector to be one of his disciples, he echoed Micah’s words. “I desire mercy, not sacrifice.” The Pharisees condemned Jesus for keeping company with Levi, whom they regarded as the worst traitor—a thief, a despicable criminal and a cruel oppressor.

They questioned Jesus’ response to Levi’s treason. “Why does Jesus eat with such a person? How can he even stand to sit with him? We will have nothing to do with such a person. It’s not right!”

But Jesus chose to befriend sinners like Levi. He knew that, in doing so, he would be counted as one of them. After all, to abide sin was to be a sinner. “Mercy is for the oppressed, not for sinners. Sinners need punishment; that is the only way they will learn to stop oppressing.”

……………………………………………….

The Pharisees were not entirely wrong. Wrong does need to be put right. What Jesus showed them was that wrong can be put right by mercy. Punishment can only do so much to change the situation.

But mercy seems risky and foolish. Why show mercy to a sinner?

Perhaps Jesus showed mercy to sinners because he knew like no other how sin itself oppresses both the sinned against and the sinner. Sin enslaves the sinner’s heart before it enslaves others. If the sinner is to be free of sin, they need someone strong enough to free them—and Jesus’ strength was his mercy, the risk of mercy.

And the substance of mercy was presence. Jesus showed mercy by coming close to sinners like Levi, sinners like me. Jesus came so close and spent so much time with sinners he was labeled “the friend of sinners.”

Jesus was humble enough to accept this label, for he was NOT a sinner, to be sure. He gave up his heavenly title to take on an earthly one. Remember: to be a friend of sinners was to be a sinner, to be counted as one of them. If you side with a sinner, you are no better than them, you are just part of the problem. To refuse to do what is right (to withhold punishment from sinners) is just as bad as doing what is wrong (sinning).

But if Jesus shows us anything, he shows us that those who practice humility show mercy, and that mercy makes a way for things to be put right (justice). Jesus, in his humility, came close to someone as despicable as Levi, befriended him. And Jesus, in befriending Levi, showed mercy, saw Levi with enough love to see that Levi the oppressor was himself oppressed by his own sinful heart. And it was by such mercy that Levi’s life was changed, wrong put right. And countless others since then have known first-hand that same life-changing mercy, mine included.

Thus was fulfilled the words of the prophet—that to act justly is to love mercy is to walk humbly.

………………………………….

For Jesus, the practice of humility involved coming close to those he was not like. For me, it means coming to grips with what I am like. And, humbly, this is what I must confess:

I am a sinner.

That is what the Abbot knew about himself. He knew he was a sinner. And this knowledge was the source of his humility. And this humility was the source of his mercy. Knowing he was a sinner, the Abbot went with the brother as he was being expelled by the others. And, in leaving with the brother, the Abbot showed mercy.

With his example in mind, I must confess: I too often side with the Pharisees and the brothers who are quick to see sin in another but slow to see it in themselves.

Just who do I think I am?

……………………………………….

The spirit of Pharisaism runs rampant today. The Oxford dictionary defines it as “the quality of being self-righteous.”

Our self-righteousness is often manifested in our propensity to call out sin when we see it another but not to call it out when we see it in ourselves. Worse: we do not even see it in ourselves. We are so oriented to spotting it in others that we fail to look in the mirror.

I am mindful just now of how we exhibit such self-righteousness today when it comes to race relations. Too often, we are quick to condemn another as racist while neglecting to confess how we ourselves harbor racism in our own hearts.

But I must confess: I am a racist.

To clarify: this confession rises not out of a desire to be politically correct, to say something as a white man in such a way that others will now think I am virtuous for confessing such a thing.

No: this confession is to really, truly tell you that I am a racist. I gravitate towards circles of comfort with those who are “my own kind”—other white people. I am sometimes suspicious of Black people and other people of color. I have neglected to listen intently and to learn from people of color. I have rolled my eyes when I’ve heard something that many Black people would want to be done to help this world become a more peaceful, equitable place. But: why should I so quickly disparage the wisdom of such a desire? Why am I so reluctant to listen and really try to understand? What twisted sense of security am I protecting and preserving over against the wellbeing of other human beings?

No doubt, some might say that there is nothing in what I have just said that warrants the label of “sin.” But I recognize these dynamics as sin because they reflect an inner disposition that fails to fully honor the image of God in another human being, to love others as I love myself. And, even worse: I recognize these dynamics as sin because they spring from a perverted view of others, a view that distorts the reality of everyone’s beauty and beloved-ness in the sight of God.

This is sin at its root. And, as long as I harbor such dispositions, I am a racist and a sinner.

To that, some might grant me my confession and respond within: “Thank God I’m not like that. There’s no racism in me.”

And, I must confess: I have thought the same thing about myself. “I’m glad I’m not like that person. How can anyone be so hateful and racist?”

And then I take this thought as something which grants me permission to call out others about their racism, without realizing that when I do so I am siding with the Pharisees in my own self-righteous hypocrisy.

This is not to say we should not stand for truth and justice. It is just to say that when we do so we do well to also acknowledge that we are no better than those we are prone to accuse. This is simply an invitation to stand on the ground of humility as we call for justice. And to make our appeals for change out of mercy, knowing that sin enslaves the sinner even as it oppresses the sinned against. We appeal to sinners like ourselves on the basis of mercy through and through—mercy for those we have hurt by our sin, and the chance of a new start for the sinner, the hope of change.

On such a foundation Jesus sought to break the stronghold of self-righteous hypocrisy. Jesus’ strongest words were for those who failed to recognize their own sin while pointing out the sin in others. “Judge not lest you be judged. With the same measure you use, it will be measured to you.” This is why he said that one’s righteousness needed “to surpass the righteousness of the Pharisees.”

Theirs was a self-righteous righteousness. Theirs was, truly, no righteousness at all. Do we recognize in ourselves the same self-righteousness that simply adds sin to sin as insult to injury? I wonder…

The irony is that Jesus took the side of the sinner, though he himself had never sinned—whereas we like to claim we are sinless, though we ourselves have gravely sinned.

It is for sinners like you and me that Jesus, in his humility, extended mercy. It is by such mercy we are changed and set free to work for truth and justice. In this way, and in this way only, may truth and justice endure. May it be so.

………………

why the Abbot left with the brother

reflections by troy cady

The Bread of Presence in Times of Crisis

The Bread of Presence in Times of Crisis

reflections on Ruth and Naomi

based on the book of Ruth, chapter 1

by Troy Cady

For the past two weeks I have felt like the world has been spinning out of control. For starters, I felt helplessly indignant as our President refused to cooperate with a Congressional impeachment inquiry.[1] Meanwhile, I learned that this fall the Supreme Court will hear a case in which it’s expected they will rule to expand gun ownership rights,[2] though U.S. citizens already own 227,000,000 guns (far outstretching any other country in the world).[3] And this is from the same legal system that goes easy on a white person for killing a black man in his own home but would throw the book at the perpetrator if those roles had been reversed.[4]

But, wait: there’s more. Just last week it was reported that in the past year one million people were apprehended on the southwest border of the United States,[5] clamoring for entrance.[6] Many of those are children who have been separated from their parents.[7] And, as if that is not enough, the situation in Syria worsened as Turkey cleared out thousands of vulnerable people. There were already at least 25.9 million refugees around the world[8] and now there will be even more.

Ruth, Naomi and Orpah by Markham Kyra

In times like these, it is easy to feel hopeless. It’s as if the whole world is caving in and you’re trapped, gasping for air, craning to catch even a sliver of light. And that is the situation thrust upon us in the text from Ruth 1 where, in the opening lines, we read about a famine and a family with two sons leaving their home to live in Moab where there is food. By the end of verse 3, the husband and father dies so, the text says, Naomi is “left with her two sons.”[9]

But all is not lost: Naomi’s sons get married and this is cause for celebration--but don’t get your hopes up, yet: her sons also die.

So, Naomi is left without her husband and two sons in a foreign country. She’s old and can barely take care of herself, let alone these two women who are not blood relatives. At that point, there is at least a little hope: she hears that the famine has passed back home, so she decides to return. Because she couldn’t possibly ask these two women to leave Moab, she tells them not to worry about her but to return to their own families who will be able to take care of them better. So, after much weeping, Orpah returns to her family—but Ruth decides to stick with Naomi. And Ruth’s words at this point sound like sublime poetry:

“Where you go, I will go;

where you lodge, I will lodge;

your people shall be my people,

and your God my God.”

In the midst of unimaginable suffering, we finally have a sense in this story that something good is going to happen. To be sure, they have no idea how it’s all going to turn out, but they do know this: they will have each other and they will have Naomi’s God.

Speaking of God, the book of Ruth is striking because God is hardly mentioned and when God is spoken of by Naomi at the end of chapter 1, it sounds like she’s itching for a fight. In contrast to Ruth’s uplifting poem, Naomi utters a lament of tired and bitter resignation, if not protest. When the women of Bethlehem welcome her back, she replies:

“Call me no longer ‘Sweet’,

call me ‘Bitter’,[10]

for the Almighty has dealt bitterly with me.

I went away full,

but the Lord brought me back empty…”

I’ll be honest: reading that makes me want to say, “Umm, Ruth: you might not want to stand that close to Naomi right now because I’m afraid lightning’s about to strike.”    

Ruth as more than a romance novel

I love the story of Ruth because it’s honest and we can relate to it. It reflects how we experience life—all of it: the good, the bad and the ugly all mixed in together. That’s why I think it’s a pity this story has been treated essentially as a romance novel too often. As I think back to college, I recall one of my professors who interpreted Ruth this way. In his lecture, he felt compelled to point out that, as Boaz and Ruth were still “dating”, Naomi told Ruth to bathe, change her clothes and put on some perfume so she would smell nice and pretty for Boaz who would surely come to her rescue if he found her attractive enough.[11]

While it may be true that Ruth is a love story, when we look at it closely it doesn’t reinforce the literary trope of most romances where some dude with ripped abs and a chiseled chin saves a petite damsel in distress. For starters, the story recounts how God comes to the rescue through the primary agent of Ruth—who is, of course, a woman who comes to the rescue of another woman.

The title of the book alone focuses our attention on Ruth’s salvific role, but, in case we would miss it, the author of Ruth connects her story with the epoch that precedes it: the book of Judges. In Judges, we hear mostly about a cast of male leaders but, in every instance, it is only a matter of time before the country loses its way again. The book of Judges underscores this theme by repeating a certain phrase throughout: “In those days there was no king in Israel; every man did what was right in his own eyes.”[12]

It’s against that backdrop that Ruth is presented, and it’s as if the author wants us to notice three things. 1) If no Israelite will lead rightly, God will choose someone outside of Israel to lead. 2) If no man will lead rightly, a woman will show what’s right. and 3) Ruth leads not by might, like the judges of previous generations, but by compassionate concern and selfless service. Ruth, thus, brings to a close the time of the judges and sets up what follows when David will be king.[13]

Yes, Ruth is so much more than just a romance novel. In fact, interpreters of Ruth see in it not just a single story but a story of several stories that occur before and after it.

Ruth and God’s promises to Abraham

First, the story of Ruth is connected with the story of Abraham. Recall that in Genesis 12 and 15, God promised to Abraham a land, a people and a blessing.

What’s interesting about Ruth is that the author presents the gift of the land in light of Israel’s exile from it and return. Chapter 1 serves as a kind of echo chamber for this theme of return as that specific word (“return”) appears a total of 12 times in 22 verses.[14] That’s one “return” for every tribe of Israel. Between Naomi’s family and the figure of Ruth, we catch a glimpse of what Israel experienced as a nation overall: the Israelites were exiled and returned to share the land with foreigners.[15] In this light, Ruth’s story has some challenging things to say to evangelical Christians today about the question of Israel sharing the land with others.

In addition to the land, there are some equally interesting outcomes regarding how God would constitute the people of Israel. Notice what Ruth says: “Your people will be my people and your God my God.” The story of Ruth surprises us by telling us that even Israel’s great king David would be born through a foreign people. Israel was, thus, always to be understood expansively, as inclusive of non-Israelite people.

And that is how God would fulfill the promise to Abraham that all nations on earth would be blessed. In this vein, Ruth 1 includes both blessings and curses, echoing the language of Genesis 12 that also speaks of both blessings and curses. Observe how this plays out: as Naomi intends to move back home, she blesses the two Moabite women to return to their own families. But, when Ruth replies, she calls down a curse on herself should she ever forsake Naomi. It seems that Ruth, more than Naomi, understands what the truly blessed thing to do is.

Thus, it is through Ruth that God’s promises to Abraham (concerning 1. the land he would give, 2. the people he would make, and 3. the blessing they would be) develop in ways we would hardly expect.

Ruth and the story of Job

But the story of Ruth doesn’t stop there. There’s another story here for us to see as Ruth is also a retelling of the story of Job with an interesting twist. Recall that the story of Job is about a man who, early in the narrative, loses everything but his faith in God. Shortly after, some of Job’s friends show up and they have a dialogue about the meaning of suffering in which Job’s friends don’t really help Job a whole lot.

In Ruth, Naomi serves as the Job figure as the writer very quickly relates how Naomi loses everything. Then, the first chapter concludes with her lament, which sounds a lot like something Job would say: where once life was sweet (that’s what “Naomi” means), now it is bitter (that’s what “Mara” means); she went away full and came back empty. Everything has been stripped away.

But, then, here’s the surprise: in contrast to Job’s companions, Ruth serves as a true companion—for Ruth does more than accompany Naomi back to Israel, she sides with her in every respect, up to and including the adoption of Naomi’s God.

a. compassion and physical need

As we consider how Ruth's story is connected to the story of Job, there are some important lessons for us to notice regarding how the church can be a healing presence in a world filled with suffering. The first lesson deals with the importance of tending to the physical needs of those who are suffering. Theologian Jürgen Moltmann alludes to this by playing on Friedrich Nietzsche’s assertion that “God is dead.” Over against that, Moltmann challenges the church to remember that, to the poor, God is not dead; rather, “God is bread.”[16] The text in Ruth 1 underscores this truth by repeated use of the imagery of bread. As Naomi and her family leave Israel because of a famine, it is significant that the town they leave is Bethlehem (or Beit-lechem), literally “the house of bread.” Then, in verse 6, Naomi is prompted to return when she hears that the Lord had given them food. The word in Hebrew there is even more specific than “food,” however. The text literally says the Lord gave them “bread” (lechem). Thus, in verse 19 Naomi and Ruth return to the “house of bread” (Beit-lechem) and in verse 22 we learn the barley is ready to be harvested in Beit-lechem. In the next two chapters, Ruth then works to take care of Naomi who is too old to work—and God provides beyond their need through the generosity of Boaz.

This is something I love about the church in which I serve: we understand that one of the best things we can do to ease suffering is by tending to the physical needs of others. That’s why I love that our little church runs a food pantry. Through such a ministry of compassion, we are saying to our neighbors: “God is not dead; God is bread.”

b. companionship and the essence of the church

Ruth not only tends to Naomi’s physical needs, she also tends to Naomi’s emotional and spiritual needs. On this front, it's important for us to notice that Ruth does this simply by being with Naomi. In 1:16 Ruth expresses it this way: “Where you go, I will go; where you lodge, I will lodge.”

At the church where I serve we’ve been exploring what it means to live “missionally” and “incarnationally”, both personally and collectively. The expression is a fancy way of saying that just as the Father sent the Son to dwell among us so the Triune God sends us to be fully present to the world. And Ruth exemplifies this perfectly. Observe this dynamic in her language:

“Where you go, I will go.”

Ruth is sent.

And “where you lodge, I will lodge.”

Ruth intends to be fully present.

The irony is: it is only in leaving her home that Ruth finds her home.

At any rate, in learning from Ruth's example Christians do well to keep in mind that as we move out of our comfort zone, we will truly be a blessing to all and find ourselves more at home in the world.

c. compassion, companionship, and justice

In the middle of all this, there beats a heart of justice. In chapter 1, Naomi blesses Ruth by saying she hopes the Lord will “deal kindly” with Ruth as Ruth has dealt kindly with Naomi (since Ruth tended lovingly to Naomi’s husband and sons when they died). The story goes on to show how Naomi’s blessing comes to fulfillment in Obed’s birth, the grandfather of King David. But, prior to this, we get a foretaste of God’s fruitful blessing on Ruth, when she avails herself of a provision in Jewish law that instructs landowners not to harvest all the way to the edges of their field but to leave some crops for the poor to glean. Through this distinctive Hebrew custom, God reminded the people that it is just, right and good to care for those who are unable to care for themselves.

The word used to describe this orientation is “hesed.” Like “grace” or “love” it is one of those words that means so much. It can be translated as lovingkindness or mercy, but it also connotes faithfulness and goodness. One scholar translates it here in 1:8 as doing or showing “good-faith.”[17] “Doing right by others” is another way of putting it.

What’s interesting about the text in Ruth is that usually the term hesed is used to describe how God treats us but here the term is used to describe what Ruth has done.[18] Ruth did what was right in God’s eyes, unlike those in the time of the judges when everyone only did what was right in their own eyes.

The text commends to us some lessons regarding social justice. Too often today working for social justice equates to thinking the right things or saying the right things regarding matters of equity. But Ruth shows us that justice goes beyond words; it is about action. And the action is up-close and personal. Ruth’s brand of social justice is incarnational. It puts us in contact with people. It’s so much more than “taking a stand” for something on Facebook.

And the story is even more fascinating because in the Hebrew Scriptures we would expect Naomi, the Israelite, to be cast as the one who resembles Israel’s God—yet here it is the foreigner who mirrors God’s hesed. Centuries later, Jesus would reflect this theme in a parable about a good Samaritan where Israel’s finest do NOT do what is right in caring for the beaten man but an outsider does. Just as Ruth reveals something to Israel about their own God, so the Samaritan outsider reveals something to the insiders about who will really inherit eternal life.

I encourage Christians to let this reversal challenge us afresh today in our own setting. We Christians often assume that we are the ones who are in and others are out. To break down this divide, we try various ways to help “outsiders” feel they are welcome with “us.” But the story of Ruth reverses this scenario and casts the outsider in the “welcoming” role. Notice: it is through Ruth that Naomi’s faith is restored. So as we think about extending a warm welcome to outsiders, I encourage us to take a step back and consider how it is that we can know God better as we are welcomed by “them.” And, of course, what God really wants is that there will be no more “us” and “them.”

Ruth’s story as a New Creation story

As we live this way, we are essentially cooperating with God in making a New Creation story. Beyond the stories of Abraham and Job, the book of Ruth reaches back into the creation account itself as Ruth and Naomi find true rest in clinging to one another and clinging to God. What’s significant about Ruth’s pivotal poem is that it comes on the heels of Ruth literally clinging to Naomi (in verse 14) after Naomi tells Ruth she wishes her to find “rest”[19] (in verse 9). Those images of “rest” and “clinging” echo the creation story in Genesis 2 where we read of God’s rest[20] and of the first humans clinging to one another.

Here the story of Ruth shocks us yet again by casting Ruth in the role of the man as we notice that in Genesis 2 the text says the man will leave his family to cling to his wife, thus making a new family. Yet, in Ruth 1 it is a woman who leaves her family to cling to Naomi, another woman—and together they find rest as they make a radically new family made of both Jews and Gentiles. Galatians 3:28 echoes this narrative as it says that in Jesus a new family is created where distinctions between male and female, Jew and Gentile no longer matter. Ruth’s story gives us a new understanding of family and it is through this new God-creation that we find true rest.

Conclusion

Thus, the story of Ruth is more than just a sentimental romance. Ruth can turn us upside-down as we follow her example of leaving our comfort zone and making a home with others, ministering compassion, mercy and justice, breaking down dividing lines of in and out, and becoming a new family by a continual openness to be re-made through the hesed-love of God. In times of crisis, this is just what the church needs to be: the very bread of the presence of Christ in the world. Amen.

---

[1] On the extent to which this presents a genuine “constitutional crisis” see https://www.vox.com/policy-and-politics/2019/10/9/20905503/trump-white-house-letter-democrats-impeachment

[2] See https://www.npr.org/2019/10/07/765091522/the-supreme-court-march-to-the-right-fast-and-furious-or-incremental

[3] See the data set from 2017 at https://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-srv/special/nation/gun-homicides-ownership/table/

[4] Though Brandt Jean’s offer to forgive Amber Guyger for murdering his brother Botham is inspiring, many feel justice was not properly served as they grieve the light sentence she received and observe that punishments for black people are often harsher than punishments for white people. See the wrap-up of this case at https://www.cnn.com/2019/10/03/us/botham-jean-amber-guyger-trial-wrap/index.html

[5] According to Mark Morgan, acting commissioner of the United States Customs and Border Patrol. See https://www.washingtonpost.com/immigration/nearly-1-million-migrants-arrested-along-mexico-border-in-fiscal-2019-most-since-2007/2019/10/08/749413e4-e9d4-11e9-9306-47cb0324fd44_story.html

[6] For annual comparisons and a month-by-month breakdown of apprehensions along the southwest border see official data published by the United States Custom and Border Patrol at https://www.cbp.gov/newsroom/stats/sw-border-migration

[7] About 80,000 children under the age of 18 were unaccompanied by an adult and were among those apprehended during fiscal year 2019 (which ran from September 1, 2018 to August 31, 2019).

[8] According to a briefing published by Exodus World Service, accessed 10/17/19. The briefing notes that over half of the world’s refugees are under the age of 18. See the briefing at https://exodusworldservice.org/why-refugees/

[9] This essay follows the NRSV translation.

[10] My translation, see the explanation later in this essay.

[11] To be sure, the scene described occurs in Ruth 3:3. Still, we tend to read modern (Western) notions of romance into the story. As I observe later in the essay, the story of Ruth addresses other interests that would have been more important to the original audience.  

[12] Most modern translations render “every man did what was right in his own eyes” in gender-neutral language. For example, NIV renders the text as “everyone did as they saw fit.” Even the NRSV renders the phrase as “all the people did what was right in their own eyes.” But the subject in the Hebrew text is “ish”, a word translated as “man,” literally. Its predicate is: “in his own eyes,” a third person masculine singular expression. Biblical scholar Stephen E. Fowl asserts it should be translated as “each man did what was right in his own eyes.” He explains: “Although the NRSV opts for a gender-neutral translation, ‘all the people did what was right in their own eyes,’ this translation misses something important about both Judges and Ruth. Judges is full of stories about men doing what is right in their own eyes in ways that often result in disaster for women.” See Fowl, “Ruth 1” in Judges and Ruth (Grand Rapids: Brazos Press, 2018), 217.

[13] This is to observe simply that Ruth as a text is positioned between Judges and I Samuel in our canon. Later in the essay, I note why many scholars date the writing of Ruth to the post-exilic era. Still, thematically, the text of Ruth takes us from the time of Judges to set up the time of the kings, of whom David serves as exemplar.

[14] The Hebrew word is “shub” and it appears in verses 6, 7, 8, 10, 11, 12, 15 (twice), 16, 21, and 22 (twice).

[15] This is one reason many scholars date the writing of Ruth to the period after the exile. Another factor in this determination follows from the supposed interest of the writer to address the question of inter-marriage between Jews and Gentiles, which was a distinct concern in the book of Nehemiah that records what happened to the Jewish people after the exile. See Bruce Birch, et. al. “New Life, Renewed Community, New Crises” in A Theological Introduction to the Old Testament, 2^nd ed. (Nashville: Abingdon Press, 2005), 452.

[16] “In a global view, we are all working in a circle which is making the rich nations ever richer and the poor nations ever poorer. From this circle there is emerging a world nutritional crisis which will spell starvation for millions. For the poor and starving in this vicious circle, ‘God is not dead—he is bread.’ If, with Paul Tillich, we define God as ultimate concern, then for them his concrete presence takes the form of bread.” See Jürgen Moltmann. “Bringing Peace to a Divided World” in The Experiment Hope, trans. M. Douglas Meeks (Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1975), 180-181.

[17] Stephen Fowl. Judges and Ruth (Grand Rapids: Brazos Press, 2018), 220. “Moreover, although to show hesed clearly requires an inner capacity for mercy and kindness, hesed is primarily displayed in a pattern of action (hence, ‘do good-faith’).”

[18] “The book makes clear that both God and humans can be agents of such love. Naomi asks that God act in such a fashion toward her daughters-in-law (1:8)…However, humans can act that way as well, as…Ruth demonstrates in her loyalty to Naomi (1:16-17).” See Bruce C. Birch, et. al. A Theological Introduction to the Old Testament, 2^nd ed. (Nashville: Abingdon Press, 2005), 452.

[19] The Hebrew word is menuhah. NRSV translates it as “security” but it would be more accurate to translate it here as “rest.”

[20] Hebrew scholars note that on the seventh day God created rest (menuhah).

everyone suffers loss

Everyone suffers loss:

work and health,

relationships and security,

certainty.

Loss often strips us of joy.

Sometimes loss makes us feel powerless.

It raises frustration.

Feelings of futility may surface

and seem to control.

Anger and sorrow commingle.

Something’s amiss.

Everyone suffers loss.

Most people you meet

are just trying to find their way in life

as best they know how.

Every day is a day to show mercy.

Every day is a day to offer grace.

Every day is a day to listen well.

Every day is a day to remember

there’s more than meets the eye going on.

Every day is a day to be the friend that’s gained

when someone is suffering loss.

a foreign brand of justice

The rub of forgiveness is that it always runs counter to instinct. But, remember: we are human so we either need forgiveness or we need to forgive.

In the former case, I am reluctant to admit I have done wrong. Confession shakes my confidence; it feels like losing face. If I can muster the courage to ask forgiveness, however, I will soon discover that the temporary humiliation I suffer gives way to the enduring beatitude of humility. The truth sets me free.

In the latter instance, extending forgiveness feels unfair. “They have clearly done wrong. They should get what they have coming to them, for goodness’ sake!” Forgiving feels like letting the offender off the hook. We do not come by such an act naturally. It can only be offered by choice. And it can only be chosen by grace.

We weigh the options in the balance. “If I forgive, then what’s to prevent them from doing the same thing all over again?” That is right. Nothing. Except the captivating power of grace. The soul gripped by forgiveness is, in fact, freed by such a bond.

But it will take trust to relinquish the power of rightness—trust that there is a God who is behind and before, to our left and right, shielding us in his foreign brand of justice we call mercy.