Where you go, I will go; where you stay, I will stay. Your people will be my people, and your God will be my God.  

That is the sixteenth verse of the first chapter of the Book of Ruth, the source of today’s Old Testament lesson. It’s the most familiar – the most famous – verse of the whole book. Most notably, it’s become a favorite text at weddings. If you go on Pinterest, the notorious craft idea sharing site, you’ll see Ruth 1:16 featured in many an artful wedding decor shot, painted on barnwood, letterpressed on a poster, written in cursive on a vintage globe.

But the thing is, this is not a marriage text. Its message of love and loyalty, of forging new and lasting ties, fits easily in with the language of our sacramental bonds. But these words are spoken by a young woman, a widow, to her mother-in-law. Let me tell you the story – you know I love to tell these stories – and then I’ll circle back round to Ruth 1:16 and Pinterest weddings and all that.

This is how the Book of Ruth begins. In the days when the judges ruled – before the time of the Kings, Saul, David, Solomon – there was a famine in the land of God’s people.  And a certain man of Bethlehem in Judah went to live in the neighboring country of Moab, he and his wife and two sons. The name of the man was Elimelech and the name of his wife was Naomi, and their two sons were Mahlon and Chilion. Don’t bother to remember those names, though. Elimelech died soon after the family moved to Moab, but they remained there; the young men took wives from among the Moabites, named Orpah and Ruth. But within a few years Mahlon and Chilion, Naomi’s sons, died too, and left Naomi a widow without sons – a woman without a man to protect and provide for her, one of the worst possible fates in a patriarchal society.

Naomi decides to return home to Bethlehem; there is nothing for her here in this foreign land. She encourages her Moabite daughters-in-law to return home to their families, as well; after all, nothing now binds them to her. The daughters-in-law weep and insist on staying—which is when we start to get a sense that Naomi was someone special. We all know that daughter-in-law/mother-in-law relationships can be tense, and these daughters-in-law weren’t even Jews – Naomi might well have been disappointed by her sons’ choices. But apparently Naomi was such an affectionate mother-in-law that Orpah and Ruth were quite devoted to her. Naomi harangues the girls, reminding them that she has no more sons in her womb for them to marry, and Orpah at last consents to return home.

But Ruth is more stubborn. She insists on coming back to Bethlehem with Naomi. And this is when Ruth speaks those famous words, making a vow to bind herself to Naomi: “Wherever you go, I will go; wherever you lodge, I will lodge; your people will be my people, and your God my God.” She makes herself Naomi’s daughter, she joins Naomi’s family – and more: Christian writer Lauren Winner writes, “With that pledge, [Ruth] makes herself a Jew.”

So Naomi and Ruth return together to Bethlehem, poverty-stricken. It is harvest time, and in order to get food for herself and her mother-in-law, Ruth goes out to glean in the fields. Gleaning was a duty of the rich towards the poor, established in the Book of Deuteronomy: when landowners harvested their grain, the poor could come and collect the ears of grain which were missed.

Quite by chance, Ruth goes to the fields of Boaz, a distant cousin of Elimelech, Naomi’s dead husband. Boaz is in the fields, overseeing the harvest, and notices Ruth, a young woman, a stranger, and alone. Learning who she is, he extends kindness to her, offering her free access to the workers’ water, giving her some food at lunchtime, and warning the men working the fields not to bother her.   Ruth asks Boaz, “Why should I, a foreigner, be favored with your notice?” Boaz’s reply shows that he is impressed with Ruth’s character: “I have had a complete account of what you have done for your mother-in-law after your husband’s death; you have left your father and mother and the land of your birth, and have come to a people whom you did not know previously.”

Ruth gleans in Boaz’s fields for the rest of the harvest season, at his invitation, but Naomi wants more for her daughter-in-law than a life of scavenging. And the harvest is ending soon – gleaning won’t sustain them much longer. Naomi knows that Boaz is a kind man, and that he is also a kinsman of her late husband, and that this means he is one of a number of people who has some obligation to marry Ruth. Here’s where you need a little anthropology to understand this story: the ancient Jews followed a set of marriage practices called the levirate. This meant that when a man died childless, his brother had an obligation to marry his widow and produce children on behalf of the dead brother; if there was no brother, that obligation passed on to other near male kinsmen. Now, in practice, men were often unwilling to take on these duties towards a widow and a dead brother or cousin. After all, the children you produced weren’t yours, they belonged to the dead man; but you were the one who had to support the widow and her family.

Perhaps anticipating that Boaz might be reluctant to take on a widow, Naomi decides to try to push the issue a little. She has Ruth bathe and anoint herself, and dress up in her nicest clothes; then she tells Ruth to sneak up to Boaz as he is sleeping at night, out in the fields where the workers are processing the grain. It’s the end of the harvest season so Boaz and the workers are feasting and drinking in the evenings; Naomi assumes Boaz will have had a few. She tells Ruth, When he lies down, go to him; uncover his “feet”, and do whatever he tells you to do. Ruth says, Okay, I’ll do as you say.

If all this sounds a little sketchy to you, it should. The implication seems to be that Naomi and Ruth hoped to lure Boaz into a sexual relationship before he had a chance to consider all the implications of marrying a widow, and perhaps decide against it. Maybe Naomi assumes that Boaz’ basic decency means that, having gotten some milk for free, he will nonetheless go on to buy the cow and marry Ruth. It’s not Naomi’s best moment, for sure; but we have to remember just how completely without power or resources these two women were. Ruth’s youth and attractiveness may have felt like their only asset.

But Boaz—as we’ve already seen—was a good man, and it didn’t happen quite that way, as today’s portion of the Book of Ruth tells us.  Ruth went down to the threshing-floor in the evening, all gussied up. When Boaz had eaten and drunk, and was in a contented mood, he went to lie down and sleep near the pile of grain. Ruth came quietly and uncovered his feet and lay down. Suddenly he woke up startled, and found a woman lying beside him. He said, “Who are you?!” She answered, “I am Ruth, your servant; spread your cloak over me, sir, for you are my husband’s next-of-kin.” Boaz said, “Bless you, my child, for your loyalty in this is even greater than your loyalty to Naomi. You have not gone after young men, whether poor or rich. Do not be afraid; I will do what you ask and take you as my wife, for everyone knows that you are a worthy woman.” The text hints that Boaz is older, and perhaps on the homely side. There’s no hint that he’s been married before. He seems genuinely touched that this young woman is willing to be his bride – not only to do the right thing for her mother-in-law, but to bring some happiness and fulfillment into his life, too.

So Boaz tells Ruth that he will take her as his wife. but not right away, not until he can do it properly. He will not take advantage of her desperation and vulnerability. First, as he explains, he has to check with another man who is a nearer kinsman to Elimelech, and thus has a greater right to Ruth.  Boaz tells Ruth, Go to sleep. We’ll sort this out tomorrow. In the morning he wakes Ruth early, gives her some extra food, and protects her honor by sending her home “before people could recognize one another” in the morning light. And as soon as the sun is up, he goes to seek out the man— the book doesn’t name him; let’s call him Joe— who has greater right to Ruth and to the rest of Elimelech’s estate, including some land.

Now it’s Boaz’s turn to be a little crafty. He tells Joe that Naomi is selling off Elimelech’s land, and that Joe has the right to buy it, if he wants it. Joe thinks sure, he could use some more land. Then Boaz adds, Oh, by the way, if you take the land, you also have to take Elimelech’s son’s widow Ruth, and “raise up a family for the dead man on [Elimelech’s land].” That scares Joe; he’s afraid that might be a drain on his own resources. So Joe refuses his rights of redemption over the land and the woman, passing them on to Boaz. Without wasting any time, Boaz announces that he will take Ruth the Moabitess as his wife, and will raise up a family in the name of her dead husband.

And everyone lives happily ever after, more or less. Ruth and Boaz are married. Ruth bears a son, and names him Obed. Naomi, of course, is delighted; she is so close to her daughter-in-law and grandson that she even helps to nurse him. The women of Bethlehem praise God for his restoration of the family, and remind Naomi of Ruth’s faithful love: “[She is] the daughter-in-law who loves you [and] is worth more to you than seven sons!”— strong words in a culture which generally valued sons over daughters!

So ends Ruth’s story— but attentive readers will notice her name again, in the genealogies at the beginning of Matthew’s Gospel. Little Obed becomes Jesse’s father, and the grandfather of King David, and the great-great-great-some grandfather of Joseph, husband of Mary, mother of Jesus. So Ruth the Moabitess becomes part of that holy lineage.

An interesting thing about the Book of Ruth is that God is just barely a character in it. God is mentioned often; it’s a story about people of faith who turn to God for guidance and protection, and honor God as the source of blessings.  But God works in this story the way I believe God works in our world, our lives, a lot of the time.

God acts in this story through coincidences that advance God’s plot – Ruth just happens to go gleaning in Boaz’ field; Boaz just happens to spot Joe first thing that morning.

And God acts in this story through human hearts and human relationships at their best – Naomi’s affection and determination;  Ruth’s loyalty; Boaz’ kindness and decency; the open-heartedness of the people of Bethlehem, who accept and celebrate Ruth even though she is an outsider.

Where you go, I will go; where you stay, I will stay. Your people will be my people, and your God will be my God. It’s a beautiful text, and if you used it at your wedding, that’s cool! However, I believe that the trend to appropriate this text into the realm of romance reveals something important about our impoverished imagination for human relationships. We look at these words about intimacy, trust, and commitment, and we think, Oh, this is about romantic love, because that’s where we expect to find intimacy, trust, and commitment.

Don’t get me wrong. I’m not down on marriage. I am married to an extraordinary human being, for whom I am grateful on a daily basis. But alongside my spouse, there’s a whole circle of people who sustain and ground and support and challenge me, and I hope that’s true for most of you, too.

My friend Jonathan, the chaplain of the UW Episcopal Campus Ministry – for whom a few Dunstanites are making dinner tonight – talks often about holy friendship.  It’s an idea he’s exploring with the chaplaincy community – how are the friendships formed there different from everyday friendships? More intentional – less conditional – deeper – more fruitful? He wrote about it a few months ago on his blog: 

“The first step toward loving one another is to let yourselves be friends: friends who care for each other, reach out to each other, inside and outside of the hours we share in this place; friends who remember and show interest in one another’s lives; friends who eat together, pray together, laugh together, sometimes cry together…. To be friends is to see one another as gifts of God.

“The second step toward loving one another is to let Christ live in your friendships. Realizing that this second step runs the risk of sounding pious, I think what I mean is that I hope you share with one another the parts of your lives that matter most: the true parts, the God-at-work-in-you parts. I hope you will talk about … what you are seeing of God’s movement in this world and in your life. I hope you will ask questions of your friends here that let others tell you what they see.

“I hope, at some point, you will experience the great gift of being prayed for by a friend, and praying for a friend who needs a prayer especially from you. I hope you will become friends who struggle through the hard parts of Scripture together, and the best parts of Scripture together. I hope you will never forget the gift it is when you show up for each other, and that you also remember how, at times, you have teamed up together, to reach goals you could not have accomplished alone….”

I believe that holy friendship, as Jonathan describes it, is a pretty good description of the bond between Ruth and Naomi. Romance is a very particular kind of relationship that some people spend a lifetime seeking. But holy friendship can unfold all over our lives, in many forms and seasons. Think about the holy friendships you already have, and the blessings they have borne in your life. Think about the friendships or even acquaintanceships that have that potential, with some care and cultivation.

I try not to preach on my children; it’s hard enough to be the pastor’s kid without also being a sermon illustration. But they are some of my best teachers, so now and then, I have to share something. One night this week I asked my kids whether they had done anything lately that they were especially proud of. My daughter said, “Not especially.” So I said, “Well, I’m really impressed with the way you’re getting along with your classmate B. Just a week ago, you guys were fighting a lot.” And my daughter looked at me sternly, paused for a moment, and said, “God is in all of us.”

God is in all of us. And one of the most important, life-giving, fruitful ways God is in us is in our capacity for relationship. Our capacity to reconcile. To connect. To listen, share, support, encourage, collaborate. To establish and live into holy friendships. That’s how God shows up in the story of Ruth. That’s how God shows up for us, much of the time. And that’s a hopes I have for this Christian fellowship: That the bonds of holy friendship will become the strongest threads of the fabric of our common life here.

Jonathan’s blog entry in full: http://thepatienceoftrees.blogspot.com/2015/04/a-flock-of-holy-friendships-our-good.html

This sermon was preached by the Rev. John Rasmus, a retired priest who makes his home at St. Dunstan’s. 

Have pity upon me, Have pity upon me, O ye my friends for the hand of God has touched me.

A few Sundays ago Miranda spoke in her sermon about story, about how our lives are part of a great story and that story is reflected in the great story that God is telling — the old, old story of Jesus and His love.

This morning I would like to speak more about that story in my life.  I begin by reminding you of these words from the Lord of the Rings by J.R.R. Tolkien.  Sam and Frodo have found themselves walking alone, the fellowship of the ring has been broken, Gandalf has been lost in the mines of Moria, Boromir has betrayed the fellowship and has died at the hands of the orcs; and now Sam and Frodo have found themselves on the dark and dangerous road to Mordor.  As they walk along Sam turns to Frodo and says, “I wonder what sort of tale we’ve fallen into.”  And that is the question isn’t it for each of us.  Just what sort of tale is this?  Is it as Macbeth says, “A tale told by an idiot full of sound and fury and signifying nothing?”  Or is there something more and deeper into which we have fallen.  A tale of meaning and life, a story of fellowship and community, a story of life and love.  Let me share a moment in my story and how once I found my story tied up with a greater story.

There are three threads that are woven together to make this story.  The first thread is about what was happening in my life and in my father’s life.  I have told you before about how in 1965 my father was dying of colon cancer and I went often to visit him during that time of his dying.  But my dad had made a promise that he would make it to my high school graduation.  It had been a hard and difficult struggle.  I want to return to the conversation I had with my dad on April 10, 1965.  On that day when I walked into my dad’s room he began to weep.  After a moment or two he regained his composure and said to me, “Johnny, I just can’t make it.”  We both wept together.  Then my dad said, “Johnny I want to place you and Mary Ann, my sister, into the hands of my best friend.”  He paused and I spoke up, “That’s OK dad I have come to love Geneva and Alfred and I’ll be OK with them.” My dad looked at me intensely and then said, “Oh, Johnny, I’m not talking about guardianship, no, I want to place you in the hands of the best friend I have ever had and that is Jesus.  I love you so much that I could not let you go without you in His hands.”  That evening after that conversation my dad he slipped into a coma from which he would never wake up again.  My dad’s voice would grow silent.  That is the first thread of my story and my dad’s story, but let me move to the second thread – the thread of my community of faith.

The day I had that conversation with my dad, April 10, 1965, was the day before Palm Sunday — Holy Week.  And that week had always been a precious time to me.  I attended all of the services every year — Wednesday, Maundy Thursday, Good Friday, Holy Saturday.  And I should tell you that on Holy Saturday in those days there was no Easter Vigil.  The Holy Saturday service consisted of an Old Testament reading and an Epistle, but no Gospel, no Eucharist.  Jesus was in the tomb and He too was silent. And this Holy Week was especially hard on me.  For my dad was dying, was already in a coma, and my Savior was dying on a cross for me — the One who as my dad’s friend, the One who gave His life for me.

One other thing I was a lector at the Cathedral in Eau Claire, and in late March, the lector’s schedule came out for April.  And I was scheduled to read the Old Testament reading on Holy Saturday. That year Holy Saturday was April 17, 1965.  It was just seven days after my dad had slipped into a coma, seven days since I had had that last conversation with him.  Now at that time the readings were always in the King James Version of the Bible.

And so now the third thread — the scripture that I read that night.  Let me read that lesson as I read it on that evening from the King James Version of the Bible.  The reading scheduled was from the Book of Job — the same book from which our Old Testament lesson comes this morning. I am reading from the 19th chapter beginning at the 21st verse, “Have pity upon me, have pity upon me, O ye my friends; for the hand of God has touched me.  Why do ye persecute me as God, and are not satisfied with my flesh?  Oh that my words were now written, oh that they were printed in a book.  That they were graven with an iron pen and lead in the rock forever.  For I know that my redeemer liveth, and that he shall stand at the latter day upon the earth; and though after my skin worms destroy this body, yet in my flesh I shall see God.  Whom I shall see for myself, and mine eyes shall behold and not another.”

The third thread was those words of Job, those words from scripture, but words that were so meaningful to me that night and still are for I was living that story and that was my dad’s story.  My dad had struggled for 16 years with Multiple Sclerosis and now colon cancer.  His flesh was being destroyed, and yet my dad’s faith in his Lord Jesus was as unwavering as Job’s had been in God.  He knew that his redeemer lived and he knew that he would see God and know him and be known by him. And as I read those words that night in the Cathedral I wept. I knew that this great story was my story.  That I had been invited into a greater story.  There was a larger story, and I was being called into that greater story.  It was not a story that was a walk in the park, rather it was a story of pain and sorrow, trials and even danger, a story told amidst a great storm, but it was the story that God was telling in me and through me and it was also about Jesus and His love.  God had planted eternity in my heart, and God’s story was being written in my heart as it had been written in the hearts of so many others before me, as it was being written in my father’s heart.

And though at that moment there seemed to be a great darkness all about me I began to believe and trust that there was a redeemer who would stand on the latter day — that I was not destined to darkness and sorrow, but life and love and redemption!!  There was grace and I was invited into a life of grace, into a future and a hope.  That at the end of it all there was not only sorrow and sadness, but resurrection and victory.  And it was not that I had sought God out, but rather that God was seeking me, holding onto me when I was barely holding on. For Jesus has come to seek and save that which was lost.  He came for me.  He also comes for you.  He came that we might have life and have it abundantly.  And God has written His story in my heart, a story of human brokenness, spiritual blindness, struggle and sorrow, but also of hope and joy and peace and trust and love.

And I also believe that this is possibly what is going on in that Gospel story this morning as well.  I concede that James and John may be looking for special recognition, but I am convinced that what they are really asking for is to have a part in the story that Jesus is living.  They want to stand with Him; they want their lives to matter — to have meaning.  And they have discovered that thrie lives have more meaning when they are with Jesus.  They wanted to belong to the community of those who were with Jesus.  And they wanted a significant part to play — “Can we be there Jesus, one on your right hand and one on your left in your kingdom?  We want to be baptized with the batism with which you are baptized.  We want to be with you in your kingdom!!”  I believe that is the hunger and the deire of these two men.  They want to have a significant part in the story that God is telling in Jesus!!

And I am also reminded of the end of the Narnia stories which is a story that is an echo of the story God is telling.  Let me share a part of that.

“And Aslan turned to them and said, ‘You do not look so happy as I mean you to be.’  And Lucy said, ‘we’re so afraid of being sent away, Aslan.  And you have sent us back into our own world so often.’  ‘No fear of that, ‘ said Aslan. ‘Have you not guessed?’  Their hearts leaped and a wild hope rose within them.  ‘There was a railway accident,’ said Aslan softly. ‘Your father and mother and all of you are — as you call it in the Shadowlands.  The term is over; the holidays have begun.  The dream is ended; this is the morning.’  And as he spoke he no longer looked to them like a lion; but the things that began to happen after that were so great a beautiful I cannot write them.  And for us this is the end of all stories, and we can most truly say that they lived happily ever after.  But for them it was only the beginning of the real story.  All their life in this world and all of their adventures in Narnia had only been the cover and the title page; now at last they were beginning Chapter One of the Great Story which no one on earth has ever read; which goes on forever; in which every chapter is better than the one before.”  And so C.S. Lewis ends his story of the Last Battle.  And I often cannot read this without tears, for that too is my dad’s story now and someday it shall be mine as well.

We are all invited into the story that God is telling, a story of victory in the face of disaster; the story of life in the face of death, the story of wholeness and holiness in the face of sin and death.  Job shouts it out to his friends. “I know my redeemer lives.”  I know my redeemer lives.  It is God’s story and we have been invited.  That is the tale that we have fallen into. God is weaving together the threads of our lives into a beautiful tapestry, into a great story and God has given us a part to play.  May we find our place in that story; may we fall more deeply in love with Jesus as we enter into life with Him.  We are loved.  You are loved. Shalom.