Dan Olinger

"If the Bible is true, then none of our fears are legitimate, none of our frustrations are permanent, and none of our opposition is significant."

Dan Olinger

 

Retired Bible Professor,

Bob Jones University

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How to Begin a Life of Praise, Part 1

February 17, 2025 by Dan Olinger Leave a Comment

In recent months I’ve been working on memorizing key Psalms, those that seem particularly to speak to me. So far I’ve memorized 11 of the first 30, and I’ve found it exhilarating. 

We all know that the biblical book of Psalms is Israel’s hymnbook, consisting of 150 poems written by several authors, of whom David contributed the most. We also know that while we have the words, we don’t have the tunes; for some reason, ancient Israel didn’t see fit to record any of them, and I guess they didn’t have a music notation system—at not one that survived. And further, if you’ve memorized the words in English, it’s pretty certain that even if we knew the tunes, they wouldn’t match words that we could sing. 

But the words, which are inspired, are enough. 

The hymnbook begins, of course, with Psalm 1. Biblical scholars are all but certain that the Psalms were collected by later worship leaders, who organized them in ways they saw fit—they’re in 5 volumes—and many scholars think that Psalm 1 was placed first because it encapsulates or summarizes the following 149 pieces. It’s the place to start. 

The Psalm is pretty clearly organized into 2 stanzas, so I think I’ll cover it in 2 posts. 

The first 3 verses speak of the life of the godly person. Verses 1 and 2 describe him negatively, then positively, and then verse 3 identifies the consequences of his wise decisions. 

Who is the wise person? What is he not like, and what is he like? 

1 Blessed is the man that walketh not in the counsel of the ungodly, nor standeth in the way of sinners, nor sitteth in the seat of the scornful. 2 But his delight is in the law of the LORD; and in his law doth he meditate day and night (Ps 1.1-2). 

Well, he’s not like the ungodly. He doesn’t take their advice, nor hang out with them as though a companion, nor plant himself square in the middle of their worldview. Many students of Scripture have seen a progression in verse 1, and I think they’re right. He begins by walking alongside them, then stays with them when they get where they’re going, and eventually just grabs a chair and gets comfortable. 

We use the expression “He’s hanging out with the wrong crowd.” That’s this guy. And that’s not wisdom; it’s a foolish way to live. The wise man is not like that. 

Well, then, what is he like? 

He immerses himself in “the law of the Lord.” Now, to David that pretty clearly meant the Torah, the 5 books of Moses, which we call the Pentateuch. That’s nearly all the Scripture that David had in his day. 

He wanted to hear what God had to say, and to know it well—obviously, so he could do what it said. 

Now, I don’t think I’m abusing the text when I say that our wise thinking should include immersing ourselves in the Word that God has given us since David’s day. That’s why pastors urge us to be in the Word daily; that’s not a direct biblical command, but it certainly follows the mindset David sets forth here. Immersion, meditation, delight. 

In my experience, the Scripture is self-motivating: it may seem uninteresting in places—or even pretty much entirely—at first, but the more you invest in it, the more delight you find, and the more you love it. 

Most people don’t think that way. And that’s the point. 

So what happens when we do that? 

3 And he shall be like a tree planted by the rivers of water, that bringeth forth his fruit in his season; his leaf also shall not wither; and whatsoever he doeth shall prosper (Ps 1.3). 

We are nourished; we are stable; we make a positive difference in this world, and that influence endures—it lasts longer than the typical fad. 

What does “whatsoever he doeth shall prosper” mean? Well, it clearly doesn’t mean that every godly person will be rich; the Scripture presents plenty of poor godly people without any sense of awkwardness or embarrassment. It doesn’t mean that all our dreams will be fulfilled; David himself evidences that. 

What is biblical “prospering,” anyway? It’s fulfilling God’s purpose for us as individuals—finding our providentially ordained place in this world and filling it well. With divine empowerment, we can do that. 

Next time: what if we choose the other path?

Part 2

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Filed Under: Bible Tagged With: Old Testament, Psalms

Immanuel, Part 2: Covenant 

December 9, 2024 by Dan Olinger Leave a Comment

Part 1: Creation 

God begins our story by emphasizing that he wants to fellowship intimately with us. The book of Genesis contains many indications of that idea not mentioned in the previous post—his fellowship with Abraham, and Isaac, and Jacob most notably, a story punctuated with the building of altars and the offering of sacrifices that speak of such fellowship, and indeed of love. 

As we move into Exodus, the theme continues. 

God has promised Abraham that he will give his descendants a certain land—the land God has directed him to, and on which Abraham has already walked—the land of Canaan. As Exodus opens, Jacob (Israel) and his handful of descendants have left the land of promise—because they were in danger of starving in the famine—and have relocated to Egypt, at the clear providential direction of God through Jacob’s son Joseph. And under Joseph’s protection, they flourish there. 

But dark times come. A new Pharoah arises, who knows nothing of the centuries-old stories of Joseph, the savior of Egypt, and who sees Jacob’s descendants as simply a supply of free manual labor. 

So the Israelites become slaves—toiling under merciless taskmasters, and for free. 

But God sees, and he hears their cries, and he raises up Moses, providentially raised in Pharaoh’s very courts, to take a message to Pharaoh: 

Let my people go. 

Did you hear that? 

My people. Mine. 

Family. Intimacy. Love. 

And through a series of plagues, which are clearly direct attacks on and defeats of Egypt’s many gods, the LORD brings his beloved people out of Egypt, through the Red Sea to Sinai, where he meets with their leaders—face to face with Moses—and enters into a covenant with them. That covenant is rich and multifaceted; he is their Lord, their King. But he is also their Husband. 

He marries them. 

And during an extended period with Moses on the mountain, he gives extensive instructions for a Tabernacle, a tent where he will dwell among them. When Moses returns down the mountain, his face shines with the intensity of his fellowship with God. 

And with the energetic cooperation of the people, skilled and gifted craftsmen build the tent to the exact specifications God has given. They call it “the Tent of Meeting,” because in that simple edifice both Moses and the high priest can meet with God. The Tabernacle is set up in the very middle of the camp. 

And as the crowning element of this marriage ceremony, the visible light of God’s presence, the pillar of cloud and fire1, descends and hovers over the tent, directly over the Holiest Place, the section of the tent where the Ark of the Covenant is placed. 

This Ark is a gold-plated box containing the Ten Commandments—the marriage license, if you will—and Aaron’s rod, the symbol of priestly authority. Its solid-gold lid, the Covering or Mercy Seat, features images of two cherubim facing each other, and God says that he dwells there on the Mercy Seat, between the cherubim. It is there that the high priest, once a year on the Day of Atonement, sprinkles the sacrificial blood that will cover the sins of the people for another year. 

God dwells among them. 

He has married them, and now they move in together and set up house. 

Next time: the theme continues. 

1 In my loosely held opinion, there were not two pillars, one of “cloud” during the day and another of “fire” during the night, with daily transitions from one to the other. Rather there was a single bright white pillar, which looked like a bright cloud during daylight hours and then, with darkness, appeared more luminescent, like fire. The cloud is referred to as a “pillar [singular] of cloud and of fire” in Ex 14.24. This seems consistent with Solomon’s statement that the Lord “would dwell in thick darkness” (1K 8.12 // 2Ch 6.1; cf. Ex 20.21; Dt 4.11; 5.22). 

Part 3: Marriage | Part 4: Turning the Page | Part 5: Forever

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Filed Under: Bible, Theology Tagged With: biblical theology, Exodus, immanence, Old Testament

Immanuel, Part 1: Creation

December 5, 2024 by Dan Olinger 1 Comment

One of the key pursuits in Biblical Studies is discerning the central theme of the Bible. In Biblical Theology, which is essentially the study of the Bible as literature, this question is the end of the entire discipline, the goal toward which all the other work is pointing. In German scholarship it’s called the Mitte, or center. 

Over the years several candidates have been suggested. A popular one is “kingdom”: Thurman Wisdom and Thomas Schreiner have both recently favored this idea in one form or another. Another popular suggestion is “covenant,” suggested influentially a century ago by Walther Eichrodt. And recently Peter Gentry and Stephen Wellum have combined the two ideas. 

For a time I toyed with the idea of “Messiah” as the central theme. I noted that the Hebrew Canon has three parts—the Law, the Prophets, and the Writings—each of which introduces us to offices (priest, prophet, and king, respectively) that were filled by disappointing people, all anticipating the perfect Prophet, Priest, and King who would lead without disappointment. He was, of course, the Messiah, the Anointed One—and all of these offices typically involved anointing. 

I think that’s a defensible suggestion for a central, governing theme; it seems comprehensive, with good explanatory power for all the biblical contents. 

But lately I’ve been meditating on another possibility, a theme that has been observed and commented on by a number of other students of the Word. 

It’s the idea of God dwelling with, among, his people. 

I’d like to spend a few posts tracing that idea through the Scripture. 

__________ 

We begin, of course, in Genesis, in the primeval history. The first thing we learn is that God is the author of creation; he made all things (Ge 1.1). Later in that first chapter we see him creating the first humans and distinguishing them from the other living creatures: they are in the image of God (Ge 1.26-27). In fact, rather than just speaking them into existence, as he had other living things (Ge 1.11-12, 20-21, 24-25), he intervenes personally, seemingly physically, to form Adam from the dust of the ground (Ge 2.7) and then to form Eve from one of Adam’s ribs (Ge 2.21-22). This seems much more intimate, much more personal, than the way he created the animals. Along the way we hear God give Adam and Eve dominion over all the earth (Ge 1.28), intending them to use plant life for their sustenance. 

Now, I need to deal with a misconception. I suppose this misconception was most artfully rendered in James Weldon Johnson’s God’s Trombones: 

 And God stepped out on space, 
 And he looked around and said: 
 I’m lonely — 
 I’ll make me a world. 

Johnson’s work is worthwhile reading by every American for its cultural and historical significance, its lyricism, its artistry. It is a remarkable piece of literature. 

But God was not lonely. 

God is, and always has been, completely satisfied in himself. There is no lack, no need, no shortcoming in him. 

And thus he did not need to make us. 

And yet, he wanted to. 

Why? If he didn’t need us, why did he make us at all? 

We get a tiny, possible hint shortly later in the narrative. Adam and Eve have sinned (Ge 3.6) and then tried to cover their newfound shame (Ge 3.7), and 

they heard the voice of the Lord God walking in the garden in the cool of the day (Ge 3.8). 

Now, we’re not told that this had been a daily practice. Perhaps God, knowing that his creatures have sinned, is coming to announce their judgment (Ge 3.16-19)—and their eventual glorious deliverance (Ge 3.15). 

But this does speak of God desiring to be in company with Adam and Eve—perhaps even to walk with them in the beauty of the Garden, to point out its delights, to savor the wonder and joy in their faces as they realize what he has given them. 

Of course, sin has changed all that. 

But even so the fellowship continues. Just two scant chapters later, we find Enoch “walk[ing] with God” (Ge 5.22), and in the next chapter, Noah doing the same thing (Ge 6.9). 

God wants to fellowship with his people, to interact with them in loving and friendly and intimate ways. 

From the beginning it has always been so. 

And as the story continues, the evidence will continue to accumulate. 

Next time, from a family to a nation.

Part 2: Covenant | Part 3: Marriage | Part 4: Turning the Page | Part 5: Forever

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Filed Under: Theology Tagged With: biblical theology, Genesis, immanence, Old Testament

On Danger, Fear, and God’s Care

November 14, 2024 by Dan Olinger Leave a Comment

We all face challenges. Some people face genuine dangers from genuine enemies. And most of them face fear. 

God doesn’t experience any of these things. He faces nothing that could be described as a challenge to his omnipotence, and though he has powerful enemies, he is greater than them all, and their defeat is sure. And consequently, he is never afraid. 

So how does someone like that respond to someone like us? Does he understand challenge, and enemies, and fear? Does he care? 

King David, who had plenty of challenges and enemies and fears, had some thoughts on that in many of his writings. Today I choose to consider Psalm 6. 

David is facing a fearsome trial. He mentions physical issues (Ps 6.2), but I’m inclined to think his real concern is “enemies” (Ps 6.7). He clearly thinks his life is in danger (Ps. 6.5). 

And so he meditates and writes out his thoughts. 

The Psalm has three sections. He begins by presenting his appeal to God (Ps 6.1-5); then he lays out the anguish that his situation is causing (Ps 6.6-7); and then he finishes by describing the assurance he has in God’s care and deliverance (Ps 6.8-10). 

Appeal (Ps 6.1-5) 

David begins by admitting—implicitly—that God has reason to be angry with him (Ps 6.1). He doesn’t go into detail. Here we see someone who is in the same situation we are: we need deliverance by God’s hand, but we know we don’t come to him from a position of strength. We need grace; we need mercy (Ps 6.2). 

David’s situation is desperate; he expresses himself in broken phrases, in grunts (Ps 6.3). Interestingly, Jesus appears to use David’s words as he prays in the Garden of Gethsemane (Jn 12.27) before his arrest, trial, and crucifixion. 

David asks God to “turn” to him, as if he had turned away for some reason (Ps 6.4). The Hebrew word is shub, a word commonly used for turning from sin in repentance (e.g. Is 30.15; 44.22; 55.7). David asks God to change his mind. 

He cites two motivations for God to deliver him: God’s “mercies” (Ps 6.4), or hesed, and his glory (Ps 6.5)—that is, the thanksgiving he will receive for acting to deliver. 

Is that an appeal to some selfish motive in God? I don’t think so. First, God’s glory, unlike ours, is something actually deserved and appropriate; God is not like his limited creatures. And second, is there anything wrong with enjoying being thanked? Don’t we like to be thanked when we do something for someone we love? Is it selfish to revel in someone else’s joy? 

Anguish (Ps 6.6-7) 

David lays out the evidences of his anguish, which in turn is evidence of the seriousness of the danger he faces. 

  • He is exhausted by the constant pressure of the situation (Ps 6.6a). 
  • He weeps through the night (Ps 6.6b) 
  • His perspective is colored—poisoned—by the stress of the situation (Ps 6.7). 

Assurance (Ps 6.8-10)  

During his prayer, David receives assurance that the Lord has heard him and will answer (Ps 6.8-9). We don’t know exactly how this worked; it may be as simple as his believing God’s earlier promises to hear the prayers of his people (Ex 22.27), or knowing God’s character well enough to anticipate similar future promises (Is 65.24; Zec 13.9). 

For whatever reason, David knows. And so he begins to address his enemies directly, and he flips the situation against them. At the beginning of his prayer, he is the one who is deeply troubled (Ps 6.2); but now, his enemies find themselves in that situation (Ps 6.10). Earlier, he has asked God to turn, to change (Ps. 6.4); but now, he calls on his enemies to turn and change (Ps 6.10), with the same verb he used of God earlier. 

So what do we see here? 

  • God’s people call on him when they are afraid. 
  • He hears, even when they don’t “deserve” it. 
  • And he answers by reversing the situation, judging his enemies, and protecting his people. 

Timely advice whenever we’re afraid. 

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Filed Under: Bible, Theology Tagged With: fear, grace, mercy, Old Testament, Psalms, systematic theology

Ruth—Emptiness Filled, Part 10: Eternally Filled

May 6, 2024 by Dan Olinger Leave a Comment

Part 1: Background | Part 2: Loyal Love | Part 3: Chance | Part 4: Abundance | Part 5: A Plan | Part 6: Approach | Part 7: Proposal | Part 8: Affirmation | Part 9: Contract

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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Filed Under: Bible, Uncategorized Tagged With: Old Testament, Ruth

Ruth—Emptiness Filled, Part 9: Contract

May 2, 2024 by Dan Olinger Leave a Comment

Part 1: Background | Part 2: Loyal Love | Part 3: Chance | Part 4: Abundance | Part 5: A Plan | Part 6: Approach | Part 7: Proposal | Part 8: Affirmation

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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Filed Under: Bible Tagged With: Old Testament, Ruth

Ruth—Emptiness Filled, Part 7: Proposal

April 25, 2024 by Dan Olinger Leave a Comment

Part 1: Background | Part 2: Loyal Love | Part 3: Chance | Part 4: Abundance | Part 5: A Plan | Part 6: Approach

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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Filed Under: Bible Tagged With: Old Testament, Ruth

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

Filed Under: Bible Tagged With: Old Testament, Ruth

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

Filed Under: Bible Tagged With: Old Testament, Ruth

Ruth—Emptiness Filled, Part 4: Abundance

April 15, 2024 by Dan Olinger Leave a Comment

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

Boaz admires Ruth for seeking refuge under the wings of Israel’s God (Ru 2.12; cf Ps 17.8; 91.4; Mt 23.37). This image is going to show up again in our story.

Boaz blesses Ruth in the name of Yahweh. “The Gentile had sought refuge under the ‘wings’ of Yahweh, and therefore was entitled to his blessing” (OTSS).

It’s lunchtime. Ruth could be expected to have brought food for lunch, or to eat from what she had been able to gather herself. Boaz will have none of it. He invites her to join him and his reapers for their employee meal, prepared at his expense (Ru 2.14). It’s a meal common in the ancient Near East: roasted kernels of the harvested barley and what we would call a vinaigrette—wine vinegar mixed with olive oil. As the account makes clear by the fact that he hands her the grain himself, he had opened a seat for her next to him, or at least within arm’s reach.

Is Boaz setting up a romantic relationship? It’s tempting to (literally) romanticize this account in the interest of making it a “better story” to Western ears, but that kind of interest is unlikely at this point. One commentator says, “The text offers no hint of any romantic attraction between Boaz and Ruth. Given the racial and social barriers that separated them, the thought would not have crossed Ruth’s mind, and she could not have known that he was a kinsman of her deceased husband. As for Boaz, he was simply a good man, ‘sent’ by God to show favor to this woman. The wings of God are not only comforting to Israelites; they offer protection even for despised Moabites” (Block, NAC).

After lunch, Boaz increases his care for her by ordering his workers to actually help her harvest (Ru 2.15, 16). She’s picking in the tall cotton, so to speak, and the workers are actually dropping some of their own gleanings in her path—and doing so at the command of the owner. Boaz is not the stereotypical greedy rich businessman.

It’s likely that these professional harvesters were using a sickle in their right hand to cut a bundle of plants gathered by their left hand. This would be, I suppose, about a cup of kernels once it had been threshed and winnowed. They are keeping her in good supply.

This is astonishing generosity. The Mosaic Law allowed her what the reapers accidentally left behind. But these workers, with the approval—no, the insistence—of the owner, were lavishing product right at her feet. All she had to do was pick it up.

By the end of the day she had “about an ephah” of barley grains (Ru 2.17). Measures of volume in those days were inexact by our standards, and since the text adds “about,” we should expect that the commentators will be all over the place in their estimates. One says it was a bushel (TCBC); another says “nearly three-fifths of a bushel” (ECB); yet another says “approximately three pecks, dry measure” (WBC). Our problem is compounded by the fact that unless you’ve picked apples, you probably have no idea what a bushel or a peck is. Another commentator goes with “about 4 gallons” (Bible Guide), and we all know the size of those 5-gallon plastic buckets you get at the home improvement stores. So that helps.

If you were to fill one of those buckets to 80% full of grain, how much would it weigh? Probably 30 or 35 pounds. That’s a lot of product for a single gleaner in one day. “It testifies both to Ruth’s industry and to Boaz’s generosity” (NET).

How is Ruth going to get that home? She doesn’t have any plastic buckets. Does she perhaps have a woven basket? Or a shawl of some sort in which she could wrap it up?

That’s likely.

But wouldn’t that be cumbersome?

In my African travels, I’ve seen women routinely carrying such packages on their heads. Word on the street is that these women can carry up to 70% of their body weight up there. Makes my neck hurt just thinking about it.

As we’ll see next time, this one day’s work will set in motion the providential outcome of this story.

Photo by Paz Arando on Unsplash

Filed Under: Bible Tagged With: Old Testament, Ruth

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