Bible – Page 4

James’s Big Ideas, Part 4: Works

September 19, 2024 by Dan Olinger Leave a Comment

Part 1: Introduction | Part 2: Wisdom | Part 3: Words

One more theme makes itself obvious in James’s little letter. Multiple times he uses a Greek verb, or its noun equivalent, to speak of our works.

He notes a couple of ways that humans naturally “work” evil:

We exhibit wrath (Jam 1.20).

We discriminate against people—specifically the poor (Jam 2.9—translated “commit” or “committing” in many of the English versions).

But God doesn’t leave us in our sorry state. The first thing James comments on in his letter is that God “works” in his people through trials, to develop endurance in them. When he has rescued us from our inborn proclivities, he begins to work on us, shaping us, trying us, so that we will be mature examples of his people.

And what do you suppose happens then?

We begin to “work” in ways that we were unable to before. In fact, it becomes impossible for us not to respond to God’s work in us with our works—works that provide evidence of the genuineness of our faith. In James’s memorable words, “Faith without works is dead” (Jam 2.20).

He gives us two historical examples of believers who demonstrated their faith by their works:

Abraham (Jam 2.21), who obeyed God’s command to take his promised son, Isaac, to Moriah and sacrifice him, until God stopped him at the very last moment (Hebrews 11.19 tells us that he believed that God would raise his son from the dead after he had sacrificed him.)

Rahab (Jam 2.25), who protected the Israelite (enemy!) soldiers and enabled them to escape the Canaanite forces

This kind of obedience perfectly exemplifies the attitude James has already described—and commanded—in chapter 1: that we should be doers of the Word, and not merely hearers (Jam 1.25). Abraham heard the word directly, of course; God spoke to him audibly (Ge 22.2), as he did relatively often in those days before the arrival of the Living Word (He 1.1-2) and the completion of the Written.

But the case of Rahab is less obvious, more subtle. There is no indication that God ever spoke to her. She and her people had heard—through the rumor mill—of the parting of the Red Sea and of Israel’s defeat of the two Amorite kings (Jos 2.10). I suppose we could say that the word Rahab heard from God was general, rather than special, revelation. But while her countrymen had responded as unbelievers, in fear, she had responded in faith: “Yahweh your God, he is God in heaven above and in earth beneath” (Jos 2.11). And that faith unavoidably made itself plain in her decisions and the consequent actions.

Here we have clear evidence of God’s working in the hearts of those who believe in him to produce evidentiary works.

Throughout his epistle James gives us plentiful specific examples of the kinds of works we will produce as God works in us.

Enduring temptation (faithfulness) (Jam 1.12)

Control of anger (Jam 1.19)

Responding to the Scripture’s correcting work (Jam 1.25)

Helping widows and orphans (Jam 1.27)

Nondiscrimination (Jam 2.1)

Giving to the poor (Jam 2.15)

Controlling the mouth (Jam 3.2)

Sorrow for sin (Jam 4.9)

Rejection of materialism (Jam 4.13)

Honesty (Jam 5.1, 4)

Prayer (Jam 5.16)

And so it must be with us. We demonstrate our genuine faith through our “conversation,” our lifestyle, including both words and works, that displays the fruit of obedience. And that, James says, is wisdom (Jam 3.13).

So here, at the end, we find that all three of these Big Ideas come together. We gain wisdom from God, and that wisdom leads us to works that are consistent with our condition as believers, including words that bring life rather than death.

This epistle from the first generation of Jesus’ followers is as relevant today as ever.

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James’s Big Ideas, Part 2: Wisdom

September 12, 2024 by Dan Olinger 1 Comment

Part 1: Introduction

One of James’s greatest emphases, from the beginning (Jam 1.5) to the end (Jam 5.20) of his epistle, is wisdom. James is using the Greek word sophia, from which we get our words sophisticated, sophomore, and philosopher. In the Bible, it doesn’t mean “smart” or “intellectually gifted”; there are many examples in the Bible of smart people who weren’t wise, and of wise people who weren’t particularly smart. The Bible uses the word to describe people who are good at figuring out what is the right or most effective or most appropriate response to a situation. It’s about the practical side, not the mental or intellectual side.

Where Do You Get It?

James begins his epistle by implying that you get wisdom from experience, specifically trials and testings (Jam 1.2-4). In the hard days of life you learn to work through those difficulties to a solution; and whether your “solution” is a good one or not, you learn from it, whether as a positive or negative example. After a sufficient number of those experiences, you find yourself “mature and complete, not lacking anything” (Jam 1.4 NIV).

But then, to drive his point home, he speaks directly: if you need wisdom, ask God for it. God will give you all you need, and he won’t be bothered that you asked (Jam 1.5); in fact, he’ll be glad you asked. You demonstrate humility and teachability by asking, and those qualities set you up for wisdom.

But—and here’s a fundamental qualification—you need to trust the God you ask (Jam 1.6). He will answer, and effectively, and he will bring you out at the right place. As James has already implied, wisdom comes through difficulty—and when God begins to answer your request by sending hard times, you need to trust him by expecting the hard times to come, facing them directly, and working through them to the end and the resulting wisdom. There’s no room for “going wobbly” with the all-wise and loving God when he’s acting—as he always does—in your best long-term interests. If you don’t face the difficulty and drive through to the end, you’re not going to be any wiser for the experience (Jam 1.7).

What Happens Then?

Wisdom has specific characteristics; when you get it, you’ll be able to recognize it. In the middle of his epistle, James tells us what it doesn’t look like, and then what it does.

Not Like This

James says that the world has a certain way of looking at things, a way that it thinks is “wise” (Jam 3.14-15). It’s characterized, he says, by “bitter envying and strife” (Jam 3.14). We certainly see that around us, from Tik Tok influencers to tensions between global superpowers. I want something that someone else has, and I’m willing to do whatever it takes to get it. The world calls this “initiative” or “drive”; but what it really is is rejection of providence and lack of trust in the goodness and wisdom of the Director.

James says (Jam 3.15) this “wisdom” is

Earthly: focused on the temporary, the trivial (think pop culture)

Sensual: focused on what makes you naturally feel good (think promiscuity, addiction, laziness)

Devilish: focused on the selfish pride that characterizes the evil forces

But Like This

True wisdom, on the other hand, evidences itself in a person’s choices (Jam 3.13)—specifically (Jam 3.17), choices that reflect

Purity: morally clean living

Peaceableness: a tendency to radiate and encourage peace rather than conflict

Gentleness: refusal to insist on your rights; tending to yield

Entreatability: willingness to hear the other side and to be convinced

Mercifulness: kindness to those in need; willingness to withhold punishment

Good fruits: actions that are useful or beneficial

Impartiality: treating others with fairness and respect

Genuineness: being what you claim and what you advocate

Did you notice that at the beginning of this post, I listed James 5.20 as advocating wisdom? Did you check that reference? It doesn’t use the word; the last explicit reference to wisdom is here in James 3.17. But if wisdom is the ability to choose the right response in a situation, then James 5.20 is talking about it, even without mentioning it.

If you look at our current culture, you probably find it difficult to avoid the conclusion that we live in a foolish, foolish age.

How about if we choose to go against the flow and raise our culture’s wisdom quotient rather than making the world more foolish?

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James’s Big Ideas, Part 1: Introduction

September 9, 2024 by Dan Olinger 1 Comment

Imagine having as a best friend one of Jesus’ brothers—someone who lived with and looked up to him when he was a child, who at first didn’t believe on him (Jn 7.5), maybe thought he was a little crazy (Mt 12.46-49)—but one day, the resurrected Jesus came to him (1Co 15.7), and he was never the same. Now he’s a leader in the early church (Ac 15.13; Ga 2.9); he’s a man who walks with God and prays so much that his knees have calluses like a camel’s. And he’s your best friend. Would you listen to what he says?

As it turns out, this half-brother of Jesus has written a letter, a brief one, but one that’s filled with big ideas, thoughts that have been percolating in his head since that conversation with his resurrected older brother, the conversation that made him realize that everything he thought he knew was fundamentally far too simple. This letter is the fruit of those hours in the Temple, on his callused knees, meditating on the Hebrew Scriptures and the teachings of the brother he thought he knew but obviously didn’t.

In this letter James has an unusual style. He writes like a combination of Teddy Roosevelt and John the Baptist, or perhaps the prophet Amos or Ezekiel, along with the sort of intense disjointedness that we find in Proverbs. He’s confident, assured of the rightness of his words, and he says what he thinks, bluntly and with no attempt to soften their impact.

He speaks his mind, and he doesn’t suffer fools gladly.

But at the same time, his love for his brother—his master (Jam 1.1), the Lord of glory (Jam 2.1)—is apparent in every word, even though he mentions him only twice in his letter. And his love for the readers of this letter, “my brethren” (Jam 2.1 and 7 other times in these 5 chapters), “my beloved brethren” (Jam 1.19) is evident as well. He writes directly, practically, down to earth and easy to understand; he shows no sign of Paul’s complex argumentation or John’s heavenly vision. He’s about doing—ethics—not just thinking or feeling. He says these hard things because his readers are worth the effort, the risk, the direct intervention. He is not willing to let them go.

Because of his passionate bluntness, he doesn’t evidence the clear logical structure of Paul, say, in Romans or 1 Corinthians or Galatians, or of the author of Hebrews. As noted earlier, he reads more like Proverbs than like Paul.

And so he says a lot of things. One commentator, Zane Hodges, sees a broad structure in the book laid out in James 1.19: “Let every man be swift to hear [Jam 1.21-2.26], slow to speak [Jam 3.1-18], slow to wrath [Jam 4.1-5.6]” (“The Epistle of James,” in the Grace NT Commentary, 1108ff). But most students of the epistle see it as much more free-flowing than structured.

In this brief series I’d like to stop and think about three of the things James thinks are most important for you and me, his friends, to know. These three things are the core of what we need to know—and be—in order to have the very best life, the life that God has designed us for.

The three things are easy to remember, since they all start with “w.” They are our wisdom, our words, and our works.

To be continued.

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On Widows in the Church

August 29, 2024 by Dan Olinger 3 Comments

In the Bible James notes that taking care of widows and orphans is at the very heart of true religion (Jam 1.27). Later Paul, in a letter to his protégé Timothy, gives details on how the church should see to that duty (1Ti 5.3-16). His words are perhaps unexpectedly lengthy and detailed; he wants this done right.

Widows with family, he says, should be cared for by their family (1Ti 5.4, 16). That’s sensible. Further, the widow needs to be at least 60 (1Ti 5.9)—presumably because a younger woman would have a reasonable chance of getting married again (1Ti 5.11)—and have lived in a way that demonstrates the genuineness of her faith (1Ti 5.9-10), something that would obligate the church to see to her care.

How does this work in our culture? I’d like to share a story from my experience.

In a church where I was on the elder board, one of the elders got a burden for the widows, something he just couldn’t get out of his mind. We put him in charge of putting something together that would bring some discipline to our approach, particularly so that no one would fall through the cracks of our care.

Soon we had a list of all the widows in the church. There were 35. I was surprised at how many there were. Then an elder and a deacon interviewed each one: how are you doing? What do you need? How can we help?

We were all surprised at what we learned.

We expected to find financial need; that was certainly a primary concern in Paul’s day. There may have been a concern or two in our congregation, but for the most part that was not a problem. They told us that their husbands had had life insurance, and they had enough to live on. Some, in fact, were in better shape financially than they had been when their husbands were alive.

But that is not to say there were no needs. You know what they told us?

“We need purpose. We need to be needed. We need something to do, a reason to get up in the morning. We need to belong.”

Wow.

Two thoughts struck me immediately.

First, we were completely uninformed, misinformed, on the situation in our own church. It was nothing like we thought.

And second, how could we have missed such a serious need?

We took immediate action. We asked the widows to come up with ideas on how they could organize and serve. That would address both the need to belong and the need to be needed.

And their first idea surprised us. They suggested that they clean the houses of new mothers.

I’ll confess that I wasn’t too keen on that idea. Widows are often, um, older than the population median, and were they up to it? Physical labor?

Well, it turns out that living that long helps give a person good sense, and they were wise enough not to take on tasks that would be too much for them. And their time with the new moms gave them opportunity to share mothering wisdom with the first-timers, and they delighted in the chance to hold the newborns and marvel over their little fingers and toes.

It was a win all around. Listening to people, and trusting their good sense and creativity, is a good thing.

I suspect that widows’ ministry will look a little different in every church, but we can be sure that we will give account to whether we have attended to that need.

Do you know what happened next?

That elder? The one with the burden? He died, and his wife became a widow. And she stepped right into a ministry that was ready to help her with grief support, and a need to be needed. Eventually she became the de facto leader of that widows’ ministry, until she remarried some years later.

Isn’t providence good?

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On Discipline, Part 1: Perspective

July 22, 2024 by Dan Olinger Leave a Comment

No, I’m not referring to child-rearing, but to how we discipline ourselves. It’s a truism that if you aim at nothing, you’ll certainly hit it. Pretty much everybody understands that you have to set goals, and then persist in pursuing them, in order to accomplish anything worthwhile.

There’s a whole industry of advisors, people who are happy to coach you on making the best of life—whether on the secular side or on the spiritual. Reading these works discerningly and thoughtfully can be highly profitable.

More reliably, though, the Scripture addresses this topic extensively. A series of blog posts is not the place for a comprehensive survey of the biblical theology of personal discipline, but it’s reasonable to focus on a single passage that concentrates on the idea.

I find such a passage in Philippians 4. It’s a concise presentation, and a familiar one; many Christians have memorized the passage, or at least parts of it. In verses 4-9, I find a list of five aspects of our lifestyle—what the King James translators called “conversation”—that we ought to discipline in certain ways. Lord willing, I’ll devote a post to each of the five.

The section opens with Paul’s goal for his (and our) perspective:

Rejoice in the Lord always; again I will say, rejoice (Php 4.4).

Our view of things, he says, should be consistently joyful.

Several things to note about that.

First, this is Paul writing. He has not had an easy life; as he has already noted in this short epistle, he has sacrificed early professional success to follow Jesus (Php 3.4-11), and a few years earlier he has listed for the church in Corinth a litany of hardship (2Co 11.23-29). Even as he writes these words, he is under house arrest in Rome, waiting for a hearing before Caesar that threatens capital punishment. He is not speaking platitudes.

Second, he is writing to Philippi, a church founded out of a night in prison, an earthquake, and government opposition (Ac 16.13-40). He is about to say that this church has already given sacrificially to support his ministry from a distance (Php 4.16). There is nothing flippant or casual about what he is asking them to do.

Rejoice, he says. No, I really mean it, he repeats.

And furthermore, rejoice all the time.

Rejoice in the good times; rejoice in the bad. Rejoice in success; rejoice in failure.

Rejoice in house arrest. Rejoice in the inner prison.

Interestingly, Paul lives that out. He has already written here that his arrest has yielded good things (Php 1.12-14), and he will go on to say that there are now saints in Caesar’s household (Php 4.22)—though we don’t know whether they became saints as a direct result of his appeal to Caesar.

Now for the fifty-dollar question—how does he do it? How does Paul rejoice in the midst of suffering and injustice greater than you (probably) or I have ever experienced? And by extension, how are we to “rejoice … always”?

The ellipsis provides the answer: “rejoice in the Lord always.”

There’s a lot packed into that tiny prepositional phrase.

What does it mean to “rejoice in the Lord”?

At its purest, it means simply to rejoice in God himself—who he is, and what he does. Meditation on him brings great delight.

But God knows that we are dust, and he understands that we are consistently motivated by self-interest. He graciously works benefits to us, in which we can then rejoice. The blessings of salvation are profitable topics for meditation, as are answers to prayer. (Sidebar: if you don’t pray much, or at all, you’re depriving yourself of the joy that comes from seeing prayers answered.) The confidence that comes from following his will, even through valleys (Ps 23.4), is reason to rejoice. It’s a great gift to know that, really, everything’s going to be OK, and the hard times will eventuate in great good.

So our first step of discipline, according to this passage, is in our perspective: we discipline ourselves to see all things as causes for rejoicing.

This is life-changing.

More next time.

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Ruth—Emptiness Filled, Part 10: Eternally Filled

May 6, 2024 by Dan Olinger Leave a Comment

With the way cleared for Boaz to serve as Ruth’s—and Naomi’s—redeemer, “the elders call down blessings upon him and his bride, and pray that the gracious Ruth will be a mother in Israel such as Rachel and Leah were [Ru 4.11]. This is indeed an optimistic expectation, since these two women as wives of Jacob built up the whole house of Israel, with the assistance of their maids Bilhah and Zilpah” (ECB).

But they go further. They mention “the house of Perez” (Ru 4.12). Why Perez? Well, Perez ”was an ancestor of Boaz (18), and one of only three ancestors of the whole tribe of Judah. Probably most of the local population had descended from him” (NBC).

The comparison is rife with ironic contrast.

First, Perez’s birth to Tamar, via Judah, was “a situation in which the levirate responsibility was not honored (Gen. 38)” (TCBC). Judah had failed to care for his daughter-in-law after her husband Er had died. Boaz is a more distant relative to Naomi and Ruth, yet he is fully committed to meeting all their needs.

Second, “Tamar achieved her ends through trickery, but Ruth received her son through righteous obedience. … Ironically, the righteousness of a Moabitess, a foreigner to Israel’s covenant, brought salvation to Judah’s family” (HCBC). “Considering the rabbinic hermeneutical principle of ‘from greater to lesser,’ the reader cannot help but think that if Yahweh had given immoral Judah a double blessing in the birth of twins and if Judah flourished through Perez, how much brighter are the prospects for Boaz and Ruth” (NAC).

“This conclusion of the narrative contrasts beautifully with its introduction (1:1–5). Deep sorrow turned to radiant joy; emptiness gave way to fullness” (BKC).

The marriage is followed quickly by fruitfulness in the birth of a son (Ru 4.13). The redeemer who had filled Ruth’s apron with seed for daily bread multiple times now fills her with the sort of seed that will have an eternal impact.* Ruth had had no children during her 10-year marriage to Mahlon; this time will be different. The filling includes not only provision—wealthy provision—but also offspring, and thus a future.

As we might expect, the women of this little village find the birth of this baby a matter for comment (Ru 4.14-15)—and they address their comments not to Ruth, the mother, but to Naomi. They recognize this birth, undistinguished to the earthly eye, as momentous. The baby, not Boaz, is the real redeemer. Mara, the bitter, empty woman, is Naomi again, redeemed, rescued, confident in her secure future.

And the narrative ends with the infant not in Ruth’s lap, but in Naomi’s. She is truly filled. Perhaps the book should be called “Naomi.”

And then the final twist. We learn why this story of poor, apparently insignificant women from a small village is occupying a place in the literature of eternity.

This child of Boaz, and of Perez, is a link in a long chain extending from Abram (Gen 12.1-3)—indeed from God’s “first gospel” in Ge 3.15—to the redemption of a great throng, from every kingdom, tribe, tongue, and nation, who will worship and serve God for all eternity.

We’re not told all that here. But we are told that this infant is to be the grandfather of David, the king, the sweet singer of Israel, whose Greater Son, we know, is the infinite kinsman redeemer, who was made in the likeness of men so that we might be made the righteousness of God in him.

Ruth is a small study of God’s work for us. “The Book of Ruth shows God as concerned not only for the welfare of one family—Naomi and Ruth—but for the welfare of all God’s people who would be blessed by David and by David’s Son, Jesus Christ. The participation of Ruth, the Moabitess, in the fufillment of God’s promises indicates that God’s salvation is for people of all nationalities” (HCBC).

“Hosanna! Blessed is He who comes in the name of the LORD!”

* For this insight into the thematic development of Ruth I am indebted to the late Dr. Ron Horton, longtime professor of literature at Bob Jones University.

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Ruth—Emptiness Filled, Part 9: Contract

May 2, 2024 by Dan Olinger Leave a Comment

True to his word—and to Naomi’s prediction—the next day Boaz sets out to clear up the ambiguity of the situation. “The town gate [Ru 4.1] was the center for social and economic life in ancient Israel. This was where news was first heard, where local and traveling merchants sold their wares in the cool shade of the town walls, where soldiers were stationed, and where legal disputes were handled” (WBH). Essentially, Boaz drops by City Hall to get the business taken care of.

“The word … ‘Behold,’ which begins the second sentence of v. 1 …, serves two functions: expressing Boaz’s surprise at [the nearer relative’s] appearance and turning the reader’s attention to a new character in the drama” (NAC). As Boaz is waiting to conduct his business, here comes the very man who is more nearly related to Naomi. What are the odds?

About the same, I guess, as the odds that Ruth’s “chance chanced” on the field that Boaz owned (Ru 2.3).

Boaz calls to him. Our modern versions give his address term as “friend,” but the word in the Hebrew (peloni ‘almoni, for you Hebrew nerds) is much richer than that. The KJV renders it “such an one,” which hints at this deeper significance; you don’t call somebody “such an one,” even in 1611. The author has edited Boaz’s words so as to protect the identity of this man. “Rabbinic writings used the designation for an unknown ‘John Doe’ ” (BKC). “The rendering ‘Mr. So-and-so,’ found in the NJPS, certainly captures the sense better than the NIV’s ‘my friend,’ but our ‘Hey you’ also works in the present context” (NAC).

Why would the author of the narrative want to disguise his identity? We’ll see in a moment.

Focused on his purpose, Boaz calls a meeting of the city council—“ten men of the elders of the city” (Ru 4.2).

“Private ownership of land was a jealously guarded privilege in ancient Israel, a right which was proudly handed down within the family. Women were normally excluded from inheritance rights, however, and in no known circumstances were women allowed to inherit their husband’s estates. Naomi may have received income from the sale of Elimelech’s estate, but she probably was not allowed to retain title to the land. The nearest surviving male member of the family would inherit the first option of purchase (Num. 27:7–11)” (TBC).

The unnamed man is initially open to redeeming Elimelech’s land. But then Boaz tells him “the rest of the story” (Ru 4.5). Did he initially withhold this part intentionally? We’re not told, but we do know that Boaz is pretty sharp as a businessman.

“Boaz argued that the nearest kinsman had a moral obligation to keep Elimelech’s line alive. This would involve marrying Ruth and raising a family under his name. In such a case title to the land would eventually revert to Ruth’s children. Under such circumstances, the kinsman hastily renounced his rights as next of kin” (TBC).

“Redeeming the land by itself would have been a good investment because the land would be inherited by the redeemer’s own children. But redeeming Ruth with the land would result in its being left to Ruth’s offspring (for the line of Elimelech). Any resources spent on redeeming the land and raising the offspring would damage his own children’s inheritance since it would benefit the line of Elimelech” (FSB).

“Mr. So-and-so” steps back from his legal obligation. Hence the absence of his name. And now “the generosity of Boaz in accepting these financial losses becomes the more apparent” (NBC).

They conduct a legal ceremony involving an exchange of So-and-so’s sandal (Ru 4.8). “Footwear often symbolized ownership in Bible times. Note … God’s directive to Abraham, Moses, and Joshua to claim ownership of Canaan by walking on it (Gen. 13:17; Deut. 11:24; Josh. 1:3)” (WBH).

Boaz calls the bystanders to bear record (Ru 4.9). (And here we learn that Mahlon was the brother who had been married to Ruth [Ru 4.10].)

Why was Boaz so persistent in showing covenant loyalty to this Moabite woman? He might have had a family reason. “According to Matthew 1:5, Boaz’s mother was Rahab, the Canaanite harlot from Jericho. However, Rahab lived in Joshua’s time, about 250–300 years earlier. Probably, then, Rahab was Boaz’s ‘mother’ in the sense that she was his ancestress (cf. ‘our father Abraham,’ Rom. 4:12)” (BKC).

Next time, the end of the story—and the beginning.

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Ruth—Emptiness Filled, Part 7: Proposal

April 25, 2024 by Dan Olinger Leave a Comment

And now comes what appears to us to be the riskiest part of the whole story. But as we’ve noted, Naomi has a strong foundation for her plan, plenty of evidence that it’s going to turn out well for the widows.

Ruth follows Naomi’s instructions to the letter. She waits until after Boaz has eaten—that will make him contented and sleepy—and after dark, so that their conversation will be private. Without waking him, she lies down at his feet and covers herself with a portion of his covering, perhaps a blanket or a robe (Ru 3.7). All this makes it likely that he will wake up at some point during the night.

And so he does (Ru 3.8).

Of course, in the dark, he doesn’t know who she is, so he asks.

This is the crucial moment. Ruth must phrase her reply precisely as Naomi has instructed her to.

“I am Ruth, your maid. So spread your covering over your maid, for you are a close relative” (Ru 3.9).

Did Ruth know the cultural significance of what she was saying? Probably, but we’re not told. But Naomi certainly does. This is a claim of redemption. It is a legal claim for Boaz to be to Ruth as the law provides, following the example of God himself, who dwells under the wings of the cherubim in the Tabernacle. It’s an assertion of her right, under Naomi, to have their property redeemed, their debts paid, and their line secured through the birth of a male heir. It’s a proposal of marriage.

She is asking him to be the refuge that she has sought from Yahweh (Ru 2.12).

These days we would say that that’s a Big Ask.

Boaz indicates immediately that Naomi’s expectations are well founded. First, he expresses openness to the relationship. In an endearing response, he says that marrying Ruth would be a step up for him—that she is the kind of woman who could have any man she wanted, specifically younger men (Ru 3.10)—another indication that Boaz is getting, as we would say, long in the tooth. “The delicate interplay here suggests that Boaz was significantly older, and that Ruth was not only an admirable but a desirable younger woman” (BRC).

He calls her action “kindness”—and there’s that word hesed again. Seeking relief from a near relative, though he is older, he sees as loyalty to Israel’s Law and Israel’s God. Boaz is surprised—and pleased.

“Ruth’s former act of devotion [‘better than the first’] was her decision to remain and help Naomi. The latter act of devotion is her decision to marry Boaz to provide a child to carry on her deceased husband’s (and Elimelech’s) line and to provide for Naomi in her old age” (NET).

Boaz adds that Ruth is reputed among “the people of the gate”—probably the town’s leaders— as “a woman of excellence” (Ru 3.11).

In calling Ruth this, the same word used of Boaz [Ru 2.1]), Boaz “uses a term translated ‘mighty’ when describing a warrior, or ‘wealthy’ when describing an ordinary person. It suggests special attainment in the area of endeavor being discussed. Used of Ruth, it affirms that the whole community sees her as an ‘ideal bride’ or a ‘bride worth winning’ ” (BRC).

They will make quite a pair.

But there’s a hitch (pun absolutely intended).

Apparently unbeknownst to Naomi, there’s a closer relative, and he has, as we say in contractual language, “right of first refusal.” “The responsibility of redemption [Ru 3.12] would go first to the deceased person’s brother, then uncle, then cousin, then another ‘close relative’ (Lev 25:48–49). The exact relationship between Boaz, the other relative, and Elimelech is unclear” (FSB). Boaz says he’ll look into that in the morning. By saying that, he’s confirming his interest.

He’ll confirm it in two more ways before morning.

To be continued.

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Ruth—Emptiness Filled, Part 6: Approach

April 22, 2024 by Dan Olinger 1 Comment

Part 1: Background | Part 2: Loyal Love | Part 3: Chance | Part 4: Abundance | Part 5: A Plan

After harvest comes threshing, and then winnowing. Threshing is the torturing of the harvested stalks so that the kernels, which are the whole point, are physically separated from their husks and from the cut stalks; winnowing involves tossing the kernels into the air so that the wind will blow away the lighter husks, allowing the weightier, unmixed kernels to fall to the ground. “A threshing floor was a stone surface in the fields where the harvest husks were crushed and the grain sifted from the chaff” (HCBC). Winnowing would take place at the nearest point to the field where a stiff breeze was available, typically at a high point.

With the harvest over, and threshing in progress, Naomi, the mother, recognizes her responsibility to find a husband (“rest”) for Ruth (Ru 3.1-2). She knows that Boaz is aware of their plight, is a near relative, and is of means. This can’t all be just a coincidence, can it?

But the harvest has taken a few weeks, and Boaz hasn’t indicated any inclination to do anything more than be generous with his grain. Naomi thinks he needs a nudge.

This was not culturally inappropriate, nor was it meddlesome. Israelites in financial peril from widowhood were entitled to claim a kinsman redeemer (Dt 25.5-6). We call this “levirate marriage” (from the Latin levir, brother-in-law), and the nearest relative was obligated if able. Other responsibilities included avenging a clan member’s murder (Nu 35), redeeming clan land (Le 25.23-28), and redeeming a clan relative from debt slavery (Le 25.35-55) through an interest-free loan (Le 25.35ff) or provision of labor (Le 25.39ff) (AYBD).

All of this legal provision is to remind Israel that God is the ultimate kinsman-redeemer of Israel (Is 63.16; 54.5), based on chesed, loyal covenant love. (The word has appeared in Ru 2.20 and will appear again in Ru 3.10.)

With all this in mind, and knowing that a feast was commonly held when the harvest work was finished, Naomi decides that now is the time. So she shares her plan with her daughter-in-law.

Ruth is going to make herself presentable, as they say, and go to the threshing floor. There she’ll be able to watch the men eat and then settle in for the night, sleeping by the threshed grain to protect it from thieves and from scavenging animals. After Boaz settles in, when it’s dark, she will go and lie down at his feet.

And then, Naomi is reasonably certain, good Boaz will continue to do the right thing, even if it’s more of a commitment than has been required of him so far.

Some interpreters have suggested that something sexual was occurring here. That idea directly contradicts the characters of Ruth and Boaz and the direction of the plot. First, Naomi sends Ruth into that risky situation precisely because she knows that Boaz will protect her; he has already demonstrated that out in the field (Ru 2.9, 22). And Ruth has demonstrated her noble character as well in following Naomi to Bethlehem and in laboring in the field; Boaz will shortly say that she is “a woman of excellence” (Ru 3.11).

Further, the direction of the plot argues against premature sexual behavior. We’ve noticed a recurring theme in the story:

It begins with Ruth placing herself in the care of not only Naomi, but Naomi’s God (Ru 1.16).
Boaz notices and comments on what she has done: “under whose wings you have come to trust” (Ru 2.12).
Boaz is using here an image from his culture and history. In giving Moses detailed instructions for the construction of the Tabernacle, he has required that above the gold covering of the Ark of the Covenant—the “mercy seat”—are two angelic creatures, cherubim, under whose wings God will meet his people in the person of their high priest on the Day of Atonement. As Moses delivers his farewell address to the people of Israel, he refers to this image:
- As an eagle stirreth up her nest, fluttereth over her young, spreadeth abroad her wings, taketh them, beareth them on her wings: So the Lord alone did lead [Jacob and the people of Israel], and there was no strange god with him (Dt 32.11-12).
In a few minutes, when Ruth repeats to Boaz what Naomi has instructed her to say, she will reference this image: “Spread your wings over your handmaid” (Ru 3.9).

Against all this background, hanky-panky? Ridiculous. I don’t think so.

Ruth trusts Naomi’s judgment and obeys explicitly.

The outcome next time.

Photo by Paz Arando on Unsplash

Ruth—Emptiness Filled, Part 5: A Plan

April 18, 2024 by Dan Olinger 1 Comment

Part 1: Background | Part 2: Loyal Love | Part 3: Chance | Part 4: Abundance

Ruth arrives home with an astonishing amount of barley. Naomi, of course, has questions.

How did she know that “a man … took notice of” Ruth (Ru 2.19)? Well, there’s no way Ruth harvested all that without help. So Naomi asks. And just one word in Ruth’s answer sets the world on fire.

Boaz. Naomi knows about this man.

“Boaz was both a wealthy landowner and a close relative of Naomi. As such he could be expected to buy for the family its rightful land (Lev 25:25) and look after the helpless members of the family” (WBC).

Naomi’s statement here appears ambiguous:

Blessed be he of the Lord, who hath not left off his kindness to the living and to the dead (Ru 2.20).

Who “has not left off his kindness”? Boaz? or the Lord? Contextually either one would make sense; Boaz has been kind, and God has been kind as well. But in the Hebrew as in English the Lord’s name immediately precedes the relative pronoun who, and there are other grammatical considerations that favor the Lord as the subject as well. If that’s the case, then this moment is a major development in the character of Naomi.

Remember the bitter old woman who arrived a few days ago? What has happened to her now? This Yahweh, who was great but not good, she recognizes as one who is after all loyal to his covenant promises. Of a handful of men who could serve as a redeemer—maybe just two, as far as the rest of the story tells us—Ruth has found an eminently eligible one on her first day in the fields.

In leading Ruth to the field of Boaz, God has exhibited kindness “to the living and to the dead” (Ru 2.20). Both of those adjectives are plural. The living ones, of course, are Ruth and Naomi. The dead ones? That would be Ruth’s late husband—we don’t know (yet) whether that’s Mahlon or Chilion—and Naomi’s late husband Elimelech. By looking after their widows, God is treating them with kindness, taking care of those that the dead no longer can.

So what now? Naomi advises Ruth to heed Boaz’s admonition (Ru 2.21) that she work only in his field and stay close to his workers, who will protect her (Ru 2.22). She, too, is aware of the danger to a young woman working alone out in the fields in the days of the judges.

Barley and wheat harvests together (Ru 2.23) would last about 6 weeks. “Barley was harvested from late March through late April, wheat from late April to late May” (NET), “a period of intense labor for about two months. This generally coincided with the seven weeks between Passover and … Pentecost” (MSB).

During this time, and with the cooperation and help of Boaz’s workers, Ruth would bring home far more grain than the two women would need for their own food. With the surplus they could trade for their other needs, most obviously meat, dairy, oil, and vegetables that would be available in the little village. Ruth has placed herself into the family of the aging widow and under the protecting wings of Israel’s God, and he has supplied the two with all that they need.

God is gracious; he gives good things to the undeserving.

But in the end, this is more than a story of sufficient caloric intake for two people in a faraway corner of the world. God is going to use Boaz to provide far more than food to them. And in doing that he’s going to change the world—the world of that day, and our world as well, in every place and in every time.

We’re just halfway through the story. The best—by far—is yet to come.

Photo by Paz Arando on Unsplash