On Love and Loyalty

sermon by Torin Eikler
Ruth 1-2:13
Third in series: "God's People in the Hebrew Scriptures"

Today we continue our series with the Book of Ruth which is strangely appropriate given the current controversy over immigration policy. Though we call the book Ruth, it is as much the story of her mother-in-law, Naomi, as it is hers, and it is full of irony that we miss if we don’t know Hebrew.

Naomi, whose name means sweet, sets out from Bethlehem, the “house of bread,” with her husband because there is a famine in the land. They immigrate to Moab for relief even though Moabites were universally held in contempt by Israelites. There they settle, and their two sons marry Moabite women who Naomi loves as daughters. Eventually, all three men die, leaving Naomi, Orpah, and Ruth widowed and destitute, and Naomi, no longer sweet but embittered, decides to return to her ancestral home because just as bread has finally returned to Bethlehem.

On a deeper level, this story is set in opposition to the book of Judges. As we have heard from the previous two stories in our series, the time of the judges was not Israel at its best. Though the era started out fairly well, the Israelites began to turn away from God, and by the end, as Carrie pointed out, “all the people did what was right in their own eyes.” They lived selfishly and ignored the needs of those around them rather than following the Law that had held them together as a people. Over time that lack of loyalty and kindness led to division and death.

In contrast, Ruth chooses the way of kindness and loyalty. She leaves behind her home, her family, and her country to follow Naomi. She leaves behind a certain amount of security and a future with some hope for a “normal” life. She sets out into an uncertain future in a country where she is sure to be despised for the sake of love, and her faithful love reaches beyond the obligations and requirements of duty to bring a scattered family together in the promise of new life.


Jesus told his disciples, once, that following him might well mean leaving behind mothers, fathers, brothers, sisters, and all the comfort and familiarity of home to make just such a trip into the unknown. Of all the instructions that he gave his followers, that has always seemed the most difficult to understand.

“Sell all you have and give it to the poor.” That’s a hard one, and I haven’t heard of anyone actually doing it – even the disciples. Still, it makes sense.

“If anyone strikes you on the right cheek, turn the other also.” Even apart from certain interpretations of this as an act of resistance to the Roman Empire, I can get behind this one. I can even put it into practice from time to time.

But … “I have come to set a man against his father and a daughter against her mother …. And everyone who has left houses or brothers or sisters or father or mother or children for my name’s sake, … will inherit eternal life.” That’s one that gives me pause.


I remember when I was preparing for my baptism about a year after Carrie and I were married. That scripture came around in the lectionary cycle, and it hit me hard. I have no recollection at all of the rest of worship that day. I was stuck, wrestling with the thought that God might require me to leave my family behind. That’s not how I understood God, but it seemed to be a hard fact … right there … staring me in the face.

A few days later, I broached the topic with Carrie and shared my fears that my vows to God might, one day, have to take precedence over my vows to her. To her credit, she responded calmly and compassionately. We talked for awhile, and she reminded me that Jesus’ words were spoken to people who might have to leave their family if they chose to become disciples of Christ not to families who were already committed to that path. She also agreed with my belief that God would not choose to pull families apart … at least most of the time. So, I continued down the path to my dunking with only a manageable amount of anxiety.


Yet, what I shied away from as a possible duty of discipleship (well … ran away kicking and screaming might be a better description), Ruth embraced wholeheartedly. She left behind everything – even her gods – not because she had to, but because of her love. Having known Naomi for 10 years while she was true to her name – that is pleasant and sweet, she stays with her even when the turns of life have twisted her heart, turning her into Mara - bitter and resentful. Perhaps she was motivated by compassion. Perhaps it was something else. Whatever the reason, she models the steadfast love of God and becomes a stranger in a strange land.

Now, the Israelites were not known for treating Moabites - or any other foreigners – very well, especially during the time of the judges. And Naomi didn’t do very much to make the situation any better. She didn’t introduce her to the women of Bethlehem … didn’t explain the situation … didn’t even acknowledge her presence there beside her, turned in on herself as she was. But it seems that things weren’t too bad for Ruth.

She was confident enough in her safety to go out gleaning – to follow along behind the harvesters and pick up any little bits of barley that had fallen to the ground. Gleaning was a sacred right preserved in the Law of Moses as one of the few ways for widows and orphans to sustain themselves, but it was hot and tedious work without any protection from the sun or, apparently, the unwanted attention of the harvesters. So, it was particularly fortunately that Ruth found herself in fields that belonged to Naomi’s cousin, Boaz, who chooses to honor Ruth’s steadfastness with a blessing where others would have ignored and mistreated her as an unwanted immigrant.


When I was in sixteen or seventeen, a boy named Ricardo attended high school with us for a couple of years. He was Guatemalan by birth though he had spent much of his life living in the United States. His parents crossed the border in the 70s trying to escape the harsh realities of civil war. They hoped to find good work and make a better life for Ricardo and his brother and sister, and they were able to do pretty well for awhile.

That was before public sentiment began to turn so strongly against illegal immigrants in the 80s.

When that happened, the hostility of the people around them and increased pressure made life hard for Latino immigrants in the southwest. Ricardo’s family was one of those who responded by picking up and moving on … and on … and on … and eventually to rural Indiana where they lived in a house owned by our church.

I like to think that my circle of friends would have included Ricardo anyway, but the truth is we probably took him in simply because he was a part of the congregation. And I expect, though I don’t actually remember that our youth pastor made a request of us to welcome him. So, he became a part of my daily life, and getting to know him and the story of his life gave me a perspective on immigration that I wish more people would have.

In the June 15th issue of Christian Century, the editors quote Jeffrey Kaye in their discussion of the current immigration dispute. “Immigration is not a problem to be solved; it is a fact of life. For millennia, humans have been migrating in search of a better life.” In his work on the issue, Kaye often asks people, “If you had to support your family on $3 a day or less, but had the opportunity to cross a border illegally to raise your living standard, would you migrate?” The response, consistently, is “yes” … even from the most vocal anti-immigrant advocates.

People cross borders, legally and illegally, for all different reasons – some good and some bad. And while our faith doesn’t easily translate into public policy suggestions in this area, we do proclaim a Christ who welcomed strangers … who directed his followers to reach out in love to all they met … who went as far as to die in order to offer fuller, deeper life to all. Knowing that and knowing that many, many people get caught in crossfire of American immigration politics simple because their love for their family drove them to leave home and search for something better should at least lead us to listen and respond to the stories of the foreigners we find among us.

And lest we forget, we Anabaptists were strangers in our own lands once upon a time. Our ancestors answered a call to a different way of living, and they were forced to give up houses, family, and all they had known for the sake of their faith. They became immigrants, wandering from country to country and wondering where they would find welcome – or at least acceptance. Now we are all but natives of this country if not this land, and the question for us has become, “How will we treat others who leave behind home and family to come live among us?”


When the time came for Ricardo and his family to move on to Canada, the youth group had a little goodbye party for him. It was nothing big, and I don’t think it would have meant much to me since I wasn’t very close with him except for the fact that at one point Ricardo broke down into tears. “I just want to thank you for everything,” he said…. And, like Ruth, “I hope you will all remember me like I will remember you. You have been so kind to me…. I’ll never forget you.”


There is a lot about love in the scripture we heard today. From Naomi and her daughters we can learn how love binds us together and care for one another. From Ruth we can learn about the power of being steadfast and loyal in love even when it takes us out of our comfort zone. From Boaz, we can learn how we are to love the least of these who are our neighbors without regard for their origins. Each one reaches beyond duty for the sake of love, and that love brings a richness, a fullness to the lives of the others they touch.

Among Jesus’ last words to his disciples were, “by this [the world] will know that you are my disciples, that you love one another.”

It makes you think about how the world sees us….