November 3rd, 2024
This morning the lectionary has provided us with a moving example of how scripture is urgently relevant…
Urgently relevant for us, in particular, in this moment in our nation’s history.
For, at this moment, we find ourselves on a precipice.
I do not think it is an exaggeration to say that our culture as we know it, the fragile political balance of the globe, and the environmental well being of the planet are all hanging in the balance. This Tuesday’s election – regardless of the outcome – will impact our nation and indeed our world, for generations to come.
Sometimes I wish it was my job to tell you who to vote for. Some people have jobs that would allow them do that without compromising their integrity. But I can’t. It is not my job to tell you how to vote. My calling, as a pastor, is to interpret the Bible, and suggest how the meaning found in the Bible can help us discern what it means to be Christian in this world.
I believe that today’s passages – one from the gospel of Mark and one from the book of Ruth, can help us figure out how we, who call ourselves Christians, might respond to the decision that lies before us.
Let’s start with the story from the gospel of Mark.
This is not so much a story as it is an encounter. An important encounter.
A scribe happens to overhear Jesus talking to his disciples. Seeing that they are engaged in serious and meaningful conversation, the scribe asks Jesus a question:
“Which commandment is the first of all?”
Jesus answers the scribe:
“The first is, ‘Hear, O Israel: the Lord our God, the Lord is one; you shall love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind and with all your strength.’ The second is this, ‘You shall love your neighbor as yourself.’
On the surface, this moment seems like nothing more than a passing encounter. And yet, this passing encounter is not only described in the gospel of Mark – slight variations of the same encounter also appear in Matthew and Luke. Three of the gospel writers clearly thought that this was an important moment.
It may have caught the imagination of the gospel writers because it was a rather uncharacteristic moment for Jesus. Asked a straightforward question, Jesus usually responds by telling a parable, or offering a spiritual teaching that only rewards those who are willing to give him the prayerful attention of their whole selves.
In this case, Christ’s answer is quite straightforward.
Love the Lord your God with everything you’ve got. And love your neighbor as yourself.
So, in a moment of frank honesty, Jesus tells us what is the most important thing – more important than anything else.
Love.
Love of God, and love of neighbor.
Love, according to Jesus, is at the very core of the religious experience.
Jesus could have said something else.
It would have been perfectly reasonable for Jesus to replace the word “love” with the word “fear.”
There is, after all, a strong theme in the Bible that suggests that we should fear God.
All the people and animals of the world must have feared God, when God sent the floodwaters to drown everything that lived on the earth.
Similarly, I am sure the Egyptians feared God, when the Red Sea consumed them.
Surely the inhabitants of Sodom and Gemorrah must have feared God, when God rained sulfur and fire upon them, wiping them off the face of the earth.
If Jesus wanted to emphasize fear, he could have.
And what about neighbors?
Is there precedent in the Bible for people fearing their neighbors?
Well…
Cain killed his brother Abel.
Joseph’s brothers sold him into slavery.
David had Uriah killed and stole his wife.
And worst of all, according to the Book of Joshua, when the Israelites returned to the promised land from Egypt, they systematically wiped out all “the Hittites and the Amorites, the Canaanites and the Perizzites, the Hivites and the Jebusites” who were living there.
Nothing was left alive.
If the Hittites and the Amorites, Canaanites, Perizzites, Hivites and the Jebusites did not fear their neighbors, well… maybe they should have!
Maybe Jesus should have said
you shall fear the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind and with all your strength.’ The second is this, ‘You shall fear your neighbor who may wipe out you and your family.’
When you think about it, in some ways it makes more sense to fear God and your neighbor, than it does to love them.
To love God and your neighbor, is to place yourself in a vulnerable position.
If you love, you can be taken advantage of.
What if God turns against you, as God did to Job? What if your neighbor steals from you, or wants to kill you or rape you or take away your wealth?
If Jesus had just emphasized fear instead… we would be better off, wouldn’t we?
Fearful people do not make themselves vulnerable. Fear motivates people to protect themselves.
So…Why would Jesus do this?
Why would he say that the most important thing is love?
Was he just naïve?
Did he not know about criminals, sexual predators, false prophets, smugglers, kidnappers and scam artists?
If Christ was not naïve, it might be worse. What kind of Messiah would knowingly teach his followers to make themselves vulnerable to the danger posed by these bad people?
**
The selection from the Book of Ruth that Vicki read for us, may help us to answer these questions.
If Christ’s encounter with the scribe gave Jesus the opportunity to clearly proclaim his core message as a concise statement, the story that is told in the book of Ruth presents the same core message in the form of a narrative.
The Book of Ruth does not begin with Ruth herself. Ruth doesn’t show up until later. Instead, the story begins with a family: a father, Elimelech, and his wife, Naomi, who have two sons named Mahlon and Chilion.
The text tells us that Elimelech and his family are “of Bethlehem in Judah.” So, for the Jewish people who are reading or hearing this story, this is the story of a good, safe family. They are us. They are from here. They eat what we eat. They worship the same God that we worship. As far as danger is concerned, there are no red flags waving.
In fact, at the outset of the story, things look pretty good for this family. They are blessed with not one, but two sons. The social structure of the day – which privileges sons, as inheritors of land and wealth – is set up to work to their advantage.
But… this story does not take place in an ideal world – it takes place in the real world.
Enter chaos…
There is a famine.
The family must find a way to survive. They decide to pull up stakes and move – emigrate to the land of Moab.
This is a bit of a sketchy thing to do. It would be like an American moving to Iran. The land of Moab was generally understood, among Jews of the time, to be a bad place. And, more to the point – the Moabites were thought to be bad, untrustworthy people.
The story moves from the known to the unknown.
Soon the father, Elimelech, dies, and the mother, Naomi is left with the two sons.
Next, the two sons marry Moabite women!
Moabite women? The Jews who are hearing this story are now saying to themselves: What are they thinking?
But if this is bad – things get much worse. The two boys also die.
So now what?
Naomi – the mother – is left alone with her two daughters-in-law.
Two Moabite women!
The story moves from the known to the unknown. The story moves from the safe to the unsafe.
The more the plot moves, the more vulnerable Naomi is.
One of the Moabite wives is named Orpah. The other is Ruth. Ruth – the person for whom the book is named, has now taken her place in the narrative.
When things are at their worst for Naomi – when it seems like the whole world – even God – has turned against her – Ruth shows up.
Naomi and Ruth come from two countries that assume the worst of each other.
So it would stand to reason that they should fear each other.
Their starting assumption, when they interact with each other, should be “fear your neighbor.” That, at least, is what the weight of their respective cultures would expect them to do.
And, indeed, that is what Orpah – the other wife – does. When Naomi tells them that they should leave her and make their own ways in the world, Orpah leaves.
Fear enters. Why would she tie her destiny to this stranger – this foreigner?
Orpah makes the practical decision.
The me decision.
The decision that protects herself.
Ruth does something different. Instead of making the practical “me” decision… instead of doing the sensible thing and protecting herself, Ruth makes the “we” decision. She places the truth of love over the reality of fear.
In doing so – acting according to love instead of fear – Ruth reveals herself as a person of faith.
She does not say to herself “I must protect myself.” She says to herself: “Things will be ok if I have faith.”
Ruth decides to stay with Naomi.
Where you go, I will go; (she says) Where you lodge, I will lodge; your people shall be my people, and your God my God. Where you die, I will die, and there will I be buried. May the LORD do thus to me, and more as well, if even death parts me from you!”
Faith, in this story, is a kind of universal trust – a belief that ultimately, there is a goodness in the world that we can depend upon.
To be sure, we cannot say that bad things don’t happen. We cannot say that bad people will not take advantage of us.
But must we start from that assumption?
Jesus is asking us to start from a different assumption. The assumption of faith. Ruth decides to live her life according to this belief.
Why? It’s so risky!
Because, as spiritual creatures, our human life is about more than just survival.
If human life were only about survival, then Jesus might have said “Fear God with everything you’ve got. And fear your neighbor too.”
Fear is powerful.
It is a “me” response.
As beings who know about suffering and death, but choose to love anyway, we are not just here to survive – we are here to love. This is who we are as spiritual beings.
Love is just as powerful as fear.
Its power is in its vulnerability.
When we love, we make ourselves vulnerable to the world. This may have dire consequences, but it doesn’t have to.
Vulnerability is not the same as danger.
Love is not the same as naïvete.
These things can be related, but they don’t have to be.
When our Messiah tells us to love – to love God and neighbor, he is not telling us to be stupid.
He is telling us that we can rely on love. That it is real.
Naomi’s story moves from the known to the unknown. It moves from safety to danger. It moves from love to fear.
But just when things are at their worst – when husband and sons are all dead – love returns.
Love, not from someone safe and known, but from someone foreign – someone unknown.
Love finds a way. It makes its way into our lives when we least expect it.
We can have faith in that!
This is what it means to live lives that are about more then just survival.
This is what it means to live lives of faith.
This is what it means to love God.
By the way…
Ruth and Naomi returned to Judah, and Ruth became the wife of a man named Boaz. The son of Ruth and Boaz, was Obed – who was the grandfather of King David.
Jesus, was from the line of David.
So Ruth – the Moabite woman – the foreigner, the stranger, the refugee… without her there would be no Jesus.
Love comes from love.
So, as people of faith, we have a choice. We can choose between fear and love.
That is our choice.
Amen.