When we read the stories of the Bible, we normally read them like fairy tales. We expect the unsung hero who rises from obscurity or oppression to triumph with power and wealth (think David or Joseph). We anticipate the young maiden whose virtue wins her renown and blessing (think Hannah or Ruth). Viewed this simply, every culture boasts of similar kinds of heroes—although success is usually attributed to the favor of so-called gods, to fate, or maybe to time and chance. Such characters in the narratives cycles of the OT highlight the faithfulness of God in preserving his people.
As readers, though, we neglect the ‘flip side’ of stories that demonstrate the power of God in rescuing the mediocre person, the average person, from the morass of his own unbelief and his own unrighteousness. So often we find God working in a way much more relevant to our own spiritual condition when we carefully heed those whom we consider secondary or supposedly ‘minor’ characters. Ruth furnishes a perfect example. Observers have often noted that Orpah, Ruth’s sister, serves as a foil for Ruth. Orpah gives lip service to her loyalty to Ruth, and thus contrasts with Ruth’s sincere adjuration ("Do not urge me to leave you...", 1:16) to her mother-in-law. More significant, however, is the contrast between Ruth and the one who, ironically, is revealed to be the main character of the work: Naomi.
NAOMI, AND EVERY OTHER RELIGIOUS HYPOCRITE
In the beginning of Ruth, we learn that Naomi and her husband Elimilech have abandoned the promised land of blessing in Israel and have sought greener pastures (quite literally) in Moab. In the Old Testament, land was part and parcel of the covenant. To abandon the land was tantamount to abandoning God, since the OT did not conceive of the worship of Yahweh apart from the community of God’s people in the land. The Levitical priesthood and its atoning sacrifices were only to be conducted in the place of God’s choosing—within the land of Israel—and forbidden in every other land. The Israelites were to remain faithful to God, and God promised that He would pour out abundant blessing on them (an outcome apparently enjoyed by Boaz, who stays in the land during a period of famine). Instead, Ruth and Elimilech flee to the land of Moab, whose god Chemosh was known for ritual child sacrifice. Revealing an apostate heart typical to the age of the judges, Elimilech and Ruth place worldly security and success above the spiritual safety of residing among God’s people.
Ruth is the high-contrast reverse image of Naomi. Clinging to both Naomi and Yahweh, she builds on her stunning expression of loyal love (“Your people shall be my people, and your God shall be my God,” 1:16) when she enters the land by not seeking after “young men, whether poor or rich” (3:10) but seeking a redeemer who will safeguard the economic interests and legacy of her family. Our evidence of Ruth’s faithfulness grows, but Ruth’s faithfulness does not grow. From start to finish, she is steadfast.
Naomi, on the other hand, undergoes a remarkable yet subtle spiritual transformation. Returning to the land of covenant blessing after years of compromise, at first she does not apprehend the providential hand of God. Naomi (meaning ‘pleasant’) fashions a new name for herself: ‘Mara,’ which means ‘bitter,’ and is therefore an apropos description of her outlook on life. Naomi’s wholly narcissistic attitude softens in the beginning of chapter three, when she concerns herself with Ruth finding ‘rest’ in a husband, and thus evidences a loving concern for others. Her transformation becomes complete when she humbly receives the blessing of the neighborhood women (“Blessed be the Lord …”; 4:14), who again call her by the name “Naomi” (4:17), and recognize that her bitter selfishness has yielded again to pleasant words of praise.
So who are Ruth and Naomi really? Ruth is a Moabitess on the outside, but an Israelite on the inside who becomes (by marrying Boaz) an Israelite on the outside. Naomi is an Israelite on the outside, but an apostate on the inside, who (by acknowledging God’s grace) becomes an Israelite on the inside. And who really undergoes the greater transformation? Clearly, Naomi. In fact, the book of Ruth is not really so much about the obedient ‘Ruths’ of the world as the wayward ‘Naomis’, the hypocrites who profess God outwardly but wither away in times of trial. It’s about the typically selfish, fickle, yet outwardly religious sort of person who has craved after the world and in the bitterness of his soul has abandoned God. God is saying that he has a plan to save them too—that is, to save many of us. Ruth and many like her may already be in the fold of faith, but God is seeking after the one who is lost.
BEYOND THE FAIRY TALE
Most of us would not write the book of Ruth the way it was written. Sure, we all get excited about the vindication of Ruth, who is already a true believer at the beginning of the story, but few would write in lines about a bitter religious hypocrite experiencing saving grace. Most of us would simply write the ‘fairy tale’ version of Ruth: the lowly foreigner attains to blessing, fame, and happiness. But if we want to understand the stories of Scripture, we have to move past the fairy tale and see how God is at work sandblasting sin away from the hearts of legalistically religious people with his unspeakable grace. He turns a bitter woman like Mara to pleasantness and praise, and a vicious religionist like Saul into a humble apostle of salvation. If you want to understand a biblical story, ask yourself how the characters rise above the 'default settings' of the standard fairy tale. If you can’t see how they differ appreciably from the fairy tale version, I think it’s fair to say you haven’t really understood the story.
The pauper-turned-prince, the boy who goes from rags to riches, the slave girl-become-princess. While these are certainly timeless motifs of the literature of every age and place, by themselves they don’t pass muster to craft stories of biblical proportion.
The more I study the narratives of the Bible, the more I’m convinced of their uniqueness. God’s stories are not our stories.
