Unshaken_Ruth Page 5

  “You will laugh and sing with them again, Mother.”

  Naomi shook her head. “I didn’t expect to find anyone,” she said softly. “But this . . .” She bent her neck, staring down at the ground. “Not one offered us so much as a loaf of bread or a sip of watered wine.”

  “Because of me.”

  “Should you take all the blame? I lived in Moab for twenty years. I dwelt among idol worshipers and opened my home to the foreign women my sons took for wives. In Hebrew eyes, I am as defiled as you. Perhaps more so because I knew better.” Naomi’s eyes welled with tears. “Oh, my dear. You’re all I have. You’re God’s blessing to me. We are not going to be welcome in their homes, Ruth. It is the way things are. We will have to make our own way.” Tears spilled down her cheeks. “And tomorrow is Passover. I’d forgotten. How could I forget a day so important? The most important celebration of my people and I . . .”

  Ruth embraced her. She held Naomi close, stroking her as she would a hurt child, all the while aware of several women watching them from their doorways. When Naomi regained control over her emotions, Ruth kept a protective arm around her. “We will find someplace to stay, Mother. Everything will look better after a good night’s sleep.”

  Ruth took a coin from the small cache she kept deep in her pack, but when she offered it to an innkeeper on the edge of town, he shook his head. “There’s no room in the inn for you.”

  As Ruth turned away, she saw how haggard and dejected Naomi looked. Truly, Naomi was “Mara,” for Ruth had never seen her look so bitter. “We will go on,” Ruth said. “There will be another place farther down the road.”

  But there wasn’t. As the morning wore on, Ruth realized there would be no room for them anywhere in Bethlehem. “We have slept under the stars before,” she said, trying to remain hopeful for her mother-in-law’s sake.

  “The land that belonged to my husband is not far from here,” Naomi said as they walked beyond the borders of the town. “There are caves near it. The shepherds use them as folds for their sheep during the winter months, but the flocks will be gone by now. They will have contracts with the landowners to graze in the fields after harvest.”

  The larger caves were still occupied by members of the shepherds’ families. Leaving a cave unattended was an open invitation for the destitute to take residence. But not far away was another cave that was empty, one not large enough to be of use as a sheepfold, but more than big enough to shelter two tired, lonely women from the elements. Naomi entered and looked around as Ruth unpacked their bedding and few possessions.

  The difficult days of travel were over, but Ruth could see her mother-in-law’s grief was deeper and more acute now than it had been during the grueling days of their journey. All the years her mother-in-law had dreamed of coming home, only to find herself here in such mean surroundings with nothing but the clothes on her back and a few necessities for survival—cookstove, blanket, water. Night was falling. It was going to be cold. They had little food left and no relative to show pity on them.

  Naomi moved farther into the cave and sat with her back against the stone, staring into the shadows. Her face was filled with despair. Ruth wondered if she was thinking back to the way things had been before she and her husband and sons left this city. Were regret and guilt being added to grief over her losses?

  “I went away full, but the Lord has brought me home empty . . .” she’d said at the well.

  Ruth looked out and wondered what it had been like when Mahlon was a little boy. Memories of her husband flooded her. Poor Mahlon. He’d been so young when he died, all his hopes and dreams dying with him. And there would be no son to carry on his name. But she could not allow herself to dwell upon these thoughts. It would only weaken her and make her of no use to Naomi, who needed her desperately. Being needed and of use was a good thing.

  She drew in her breath. “It’s spring, Mother. Can you smell the flowers?”

  “We haven’t what we need to celebrate Passover,” Naomi said grimly.

  “I’ll go back to Bethlehem and buy whatever we need.”

  “With what? Will you beg? Will you prostitute yourself? They won’t give you anything. You saw how they looked at you. You know how they acted.”

  “We have a few coins left.”

  Naomi glared, her eyes awash with tears. “And what will we do when those run out?”

  “The Lord will help us.”

  “The Lord has forgotten us!” Naomi looked around the cave. “He has forgotten me!” She drew her shawl over her face and wept bitterly.

  Ruth pressed trembling lips together until she knew she wouldn’t weep along with her. She must be gentle but firm. “We are home, Mother. We are back among your people. God will help us. He helped us get here, and He will help us survive.” She put her hand on Naomi’s knee. “You said we should trust in God and so we shall. You said we should love Him with all our heart, our mind, and our strength. And so we shall.” Her voice broke softly. “Now, please tell me. What do we need for Passover?”

  Naomi lowered her shawl, her face ravaged by tears. “I can’t even remember, Ruth. After the first few years in Moab, Elimelech stopped celebrating the feasts of the Lord. And I couldn’t.”

  Ruth sat beside her and took her hand. She stroked it. “It will come back to you. Tell me about the way it was when you were a little girl.”

  As Naomi talked, she relaxed and remembered. “We’ll need a shank bone from a lamb, bitter herbs, an onion, a candle, and grain. The Feast of Unleavened Bread begins the day after. It will take everything . . .”

  “We have enough.”

  “What will we do when everything is gone?”

  “We will live this day alone. God will take care of tomorrow.”

  Naomi shook her head, weeping. “Where did you learn such faith?”

  Ruth smiled at her. “Where else? From you.”

  Ruth returned to Bethlehem, purchased what they needed with the few coins she had left—the coins that had decorated her wedding headdress—and headed back. On the way through town, she filled the skin with water.

  Water was free.

  The day after Passover, Ruth gave Naomi the last of the parched grain. “I’m going back into Bethlehem to buy some supplies.”

  “With what? We have nothing.”

  “I have these.” She removed two thin gold bracelets.

  “Oh, no. Mahlon gave those to you!”

  “As long as I live, I will never forget Mahlon.” She kissed Naomi’s pale cheek. “Would your son want us to go hungry? Rest now. I’ll return as soon as I can.”

  All through the day, worry plagued Ruth. How would she provide for her mother-in-law when money ran out and she had nothing more to sell? She prayed unceasingly as she walked through the marketplace. Lord, I don’t know what to do. Help me take care of my mother-in-law. Ruth bargained with four merchants before she got the price that she wanted for her bracelets. Then she bargained even harder for the lowest price for dates, a jar of olive oil, an ephah of parched grain, and an extra blanket for Naomi, who had shivered through the night. Her purchases took everything she had.

  She knew that other women in her situation had resorted to prostitution, but she would rather die than bring such shame on herself or Naomi. Would she and her mother-in-law have no recourse but to sit at the city gate each day and beg others for charity? She was young and able-bodied. Perhaps she could sell herself as a slave and give the money to Naomi. But what would happen to Naomi when the twenty shekels ran out? There must be another way.

  Lord, what must I do? I will do whatever is in accordance with Your Law for the sake of Your servant, Naomi. But we have only enough to sustain us for a few more days. Show me the way to provide for my mother-in-law and not bring further shame upon her.

  When Ruth stopped at the well to refill the skin, she noticed several women decorating their doorways. Though they glanced her way frequently, no one greeted her. Ruth shifted the things she was carrying so she could man
age the skin of water and headed back to the cave.

  “The women were hanging garlands of greenery,” she told Naomi upon her return.

  “They’re preparing for the Feast of Firstfruits.”

  “Are there many feasts?” Ruth wondered aloud. Silently, she worried about how she would provide what was needed. Oh, Lord, Lord, what must I do? I am defeated already.

  “Sit with me awhile, and I’ll tell you about the feasts of the Lord,” Naomi said.

  Ruth sat just inside the mouth of the small cave, where she was sheltered from the sun.

  “We’ve arrived in Bethlehem in time to celebrate four feasts of the Lord,” Naomi said. “There are seven each year. We’ve celebrated Passover and are now beginning the six days of the Feast of the Unleavened Bread. The barley is the first grain crop to be harvested, and it’s ready now for reaping, so the women are making preparations for the third feast, the Feast of Firstfruits. Men will be chosen to cut stalks of barley for the procession. The stalks will be brought to the priest, who will present them before the Lord. Fifty days after that, we’ll celebrate the fourth feast, the Feast of Weeks, when the wheat harvest begins. We’ll bake two loaves of bread with fine flour and leaven to be presented to the Lord by a priest on the high place.”

  Wheat cost dearly. Ruth looked away, not wanting her mother-in-law to suspect her distress. Naomi mustn’t know how bad their situation was. It would only add to her grief.

  “There will be three more feasts of the Lord later,” Naomi said. “The Feast of Trumpets, the Day of Atonement, and the Feast of Tabernacles.” She went on to explain.

  Ruth tried to be attentive and absorb everything Naomi was teaching her, but her head was swimming with details, her mind clouded by worries. In fifty days, she and Naomi wouldn’t have to worry about how to prepare a feast because they would be starving. She had nothing left to sell, no way of making money, no opportunity to work. There would be no wheat to make bread for the Lord, let alone bread to eat.

  “The Law guides our lives,” Naomi said. “When we fall away, the Lord disciplines us. As I have been disciplined.”

  Ruth wanted to cover her face and weep. Instead, she sat silent, gazing outside, hiding her inner turmoil. Oh, Lord, Lord . . . She didn’t even know how to pray. Perhaps there were special words, ablutions, offerings, something that would help her prayer be heard. Oh, God, have mercy. I want to please You. I want to serve this woman I love who loves You so much. Please, I beseech You. Show me what to do.

  Naomi stretched out her hand. “Do you see this fallow field? Once it was thick with wheat. Elimelech put his hand to the plow and the land prospered. I remember how the wind would blow gently over the stalks so that the field moved in golden waves. We had so much. Life was so good. During those early years, there was so much, Elimelech did not begrudge the gleaners. It wasn’t until later that he wouldn’t let them come and work, but gathered every stalk, right to the edge of his land.” Naomi frowned. “Perhaps that’s why . . .”

  “Gleaners?” Ruth leaned forward.

  Naomi leaned back against the stone. “The Lord com-manded that no one reap to the edges or corners of their fields. The grain that grows there is set aside for the poor to gather.” She looked out at the field again, troubled and deep in thought. “When all is done according to the ways of the Lord, no one goes hungry.”

  Ruth closed her eyes in relief and bowed her head. Oh, Yahweh, You are truly a God of mercy. Her heart filled with so much gratitude, her throat closed hot with tears. She hadn’t realized how afraid she was of the future until this moment when she felt hope surge again. God had not forsaken them! She almost laughed at her ignorance. She had grown up in a city and knew nothing about the ways of farmers. She had grown up in the shadow of Chemosh, a false god who took and never gave back. And now, here was the God who loved His people and provided for them—even the poorest of the poor, the brokenhearted, the broken in spirit.

  Truly, Jehovah, You are a merciful redeemer and gracious protector! I should have remembered how You protected us every step of the way from Kir-hareseth over the mountains to Bethlehem. Forgive me, Lord; forgive Your foolish handmaiden. How could I have believed You would bring us so far only to let us starve?

  Smiling, Ruth lifted her head and filled her lungs with air, her heart swelling with gratitude and a strange sense of complete freedom.

  And the women were saying . . .

  “Poor Naomi. Do you remember how she used to laugh and be so confident?”

  “Too confident, if you ask me.”

  “Elimelech wasn’t the only man who wanted to marry her.”

  “Do you remember how handsome he was?”

  “Naomi is a year younger than I am, and she looks so old.”

  “And thin.”

  “Grief does that. A husband and two sons dead. Oy.”

  “God must be punishing her.”

  “All she has to show for the years in Moab is that girl who came with her.”

  “She looks so foreign.”

  “Such dark eyes.”

  “You’ve heard about Moabite women . . .”

  “No, what did you hear?”

  They clustered together, whispering, gasping, shaking their heads.

  “Naomi should send that girl home to Moab where she belongs. We don’t want her kind around here.”

  “Yes, I agree. But who among us will take Naomi in?”

  “Well, I can’t!”

  “I’ve barely enough to feed my own family.”

  “I have no room.”

  “Then what will happen to her?”

  “God will take care of her.”

  The day after the Feast of Firstfruits, Ruth rose and asked Naomi for permission to go out into the fields and gather leftover grain.

  “Not everyone will welcome you, Ruth,” Naomi said, alarmed.

  “But the Law allows—”

  “Not everyone heeds the Law. My own husband and sons—”

  “I must go, Mother. This is the only way.”

  “But I’m afraid for you. There are men in the fields who will try to take advantage of you. They’ll see nothing wrong in assaulting a Moabitess.”

  “Then I will work alongside the women.”

  “They’ll be no better. I don’t know what I’d do if something happened to you.”

  Ruth embraced and kissed her. “I will pray that the Lord protects me, that He is a shield around me.” She smiled into Naomi’s frightened eyes. “Perhaps God will lead me to the field of some kind man who will allow me to glean the free grain behind his reapers. Pray for that.”

  “You must watch out.”

  “I will.”

  “Don’t turn your back on anyone.”

  “I’ll be careful.”

  “All right, my daughter, go ahead,” Naomi finally relented.

  Ruth walked along the road and entered the first field where reapers were at work, but she didn’t stay more than a few minutes. Another gleaner hurled a stone. Ruth uttered a cry as it struck her cheek. She stumbled quickly from the field, hearing the woman shouting. “Get out of here, you Moabite harlot! Go back where you belong!” Staunching the trickle of blood on her cheek, Ruth went on. The reapers in the next field were no kinder.

  “Moabite whore! Go back to your own kind and stay out of our fields!”

  “And stay away from our men!”

  When she started to enter another field, the workers leered at her. “Come here, my pretty one!” an overseer called to her. “I’m in need of a roll in the hay.” The other men laughed.

  Ruth ran back onto the road, her face aflame as the men and women laughed. They continued to call out insults and make jokes about Moabites as she hurried away.

  She walked on and on, passing fields of wheat not yet ripe for harvest. Finally she came to another barley field, where the men were girded and hard at work with their scythes. Women worked behind them, gathering the stalks of barley and bundling them. There were no gleaners. Dejected
, Ruth wondered if it was a sign of the owner’s attitude toward the destitute. She could only hope the absence of gleaners was due to the field’s considerable distance from Bethlehem. She looked around cautiously. Surely the owner had some compassion, for he had erected a shelter where his workers could rest. Some of the men and women in the field sang as they worked.

  Swallowing her fear, Ruth approached the overseer standing near the shelter. He was a tall man, a powerfully built man with a solemn demeanor. Clasping her hands and keeping her eyes downcast, she bowed before him. “Greetings, sir.”

  “What do you want, woman?”

  Heart pounding, she straightened and saw how his gaze moved down over her grimly. Would he deny her the right to glean because she was a foreigner? “I’ve come to ask your permission to pick up the stalks dropped by the reapers.” She would beg if necessary.

  Frowning, he stood silent, considering her request. Then he nodded and pointed. “There will be more grain for you if you glean at the corners of the field and along the edge.”

  Relief swept through Ruth. She let out her breath sharply and smiled. “Thank you, sir!” She bowed once more. “Thank you!” He looked so startled, she blushed and lowered her head quickly.

  “Stay clear of the workers,” he said as she left him.

  “Yes, sir.” She bowed again. “Thank you for your kindness, sir.” She felt him watching her closely as she hurried away. The reapers took notice of her as she hastened toward the farthest corner of the field. One woman gathering the stalks behind the reapers glanced at her and smiled. No one cast an insult or threw a stone. No one called out lewd propositions or insults. The workers in this field left her alone. They kept on with their own work and began to sing again.

  Relieved and thankful, Ruth set to work. Without tools, she had to break off the stalks of barley with her bare hands. Soon her fingers were blistered. Hour after hour she worked while the sun beat down hot and heavy. She became light-headed from the heat and labor and sat in the shade of a tree near the boundary stone until she was rested enough to begin work again. I will be like an ant laying up stores of grain through the spring and summer months so there will be food to last through the winter, she thought, smiling as she worked. Each hour was important, and she threw herself into the labor, grateful she had been given freedom to do so.