Wednesday, June 10, 2020

Ruth


Ruth

Watching the video presentation about racism last week, (Andre Henry, Seeing and Lamenting Whiteness”) led me to suggest a book that addresses, among other things, the matter of inclusion. It is Forgotten Books of the Bible[1] by Robert Williamson Jr.  In it Williamson considers the stories of Esther, Ecclesiastes, Ruth, Song of Songs, and Lamentations. 
His reflections on the Book of Ruth are most helpful as we think about racism and the inclusion of minorities. Do you remember Ruth’s story? Ruth is a Moabite, the daughter-in-law of Naomi. Naomi is an Israelite who goes to Moab with her husband and sons to avoid a famine. While there the sons marry, but over the course of their stay both the sons and the husband die. Naomi decides to return to her home in Bethlehem and Ruth determines to accompany her. The other daughter in law, Orpah, remains in Moab.
This story celebrates Ruth as the faithful daughter in law. She is obedient, familiar with the Israelite legal system, a hard worker, and does what is necessary to make herself appealing to Boaz, a rich kinsman. As the wife of Boaz she becomes part of the lineage of David. The Book of Ruth presents this young woman as an example of the perfect immigrant. She fully acclimates herself to the dominant culture of Israel as she cares for Naomi and provides a son for Boaz. Meanwhile Boaz is a metaphor for YHWH, spreading his wings of protection over her and Naomi so they will not be at risk.
And yet - despite her sterling reputation there is an undercurrent of racism and exclusion here. When the family was in Moab she was “Ruth;” when they return to Bethlehem she is forever referred to as “Ruth the Moabite.” She couldn’t lose the label of a foreigner. She also carries a hint of scandal by having sex with a drunken Boaz on the threshing floor. It is reminiscent of the daughters of Lot who slept with him while he was drunk in order to have children. (The first-born was named Moab, and became the ancestor of the Moabites. It’s a nasty backhanded footnote to Ruth’s life.)
With the encouragement of her mother-in-law she pursues inclusion at the cost of her gods and her identity. She eventually becomes a prize to be auctioned off in the marketplace, depending on wealthy Boaz to save her and Naomi from poverty.
The objective of the author of Ruth, according to Williamson is to persuade us of the loving acceptance and kindness of outsiders by the Bethlehem citizenry. They follow the lead of the most powerful man in the community, mimicking his protection of this beautiful young woman who is at risk from the advances of the other (immigrant?) workers.
So what’s wrong with this story? Well, if you favor the righteous Israelites over the pagan Moabites, nothing. But when we put ourselves in the story, who do we emulate? Do we, too, regard immigrants with suspicion? Actually Ruth makes it into the country with more ease than our Guatemalan neighbors make it into the United States. We are less likely to reject minorities if they “act white” in their language, dress, hair style, and manners. 
The choice in the Book of Ruth is to be completely assimilated into the dominant culture at the cost of all connections to one’s people and culture, or to separate from Israel entirely, going back to the land of one’s origins. There is no place in this story for one who wishes to dwell in the land of Israel while retaining a connection to her own people and culture, This choice is echoed in our own day when African Americans are accepted in the dominant culture only when they “act white,” while those who remain committed to their cultural heritage may be told to “go back to Africa.”[2]
We prefer they be well educated and fluent in English, unless we are white supremacists, and then we prefer them dead.  If they are poor they should remain out of sight, and if they are wealthy and well educated they probably got that way by some nefarious means. Certainly Ruth could never have achieved social acceptance without the support of Boaz. Immigrants and minorities should work hard but not take American jobs. And when the police say, “Please step out of the car,” minorities need to do it immediately. Submission becomes a healthy (if not lifesaving) trait for any outsider.
Williamson leaves us with a sensitivity to expectations, especially to our inclination to treat minorities as objects rather than persons. Is our purpose to use others for our own benefit, or to work together with them to build a stronger, safer community? Do we expect dialogue or discussion? Dialogue can be contrasted with “discussion,” a word whose roots mean “to break apart.” Discussions are conversations where people hold onto and defend their differences. The hope is that the clash of opinions will illuminate productive pathways for action and insight. Yet in practice, discussion often devolves into rigid debate, where people view one another as positions to agree with or refute, not as partners in a vital, living relationship. Such exchanges represent a series of one-way streets, and the end results are often polarized arguments where people withhold vital information and shut down creative options.[3]Dialogue encourages us to work together for the best, and to keep caring for each other. Let’s continue to choose dialogue over discussion as we move forward
Michael Sayler



[1] Williamson, Robert Jr. The forgotten books of the Bible. 2018, Fortress Press, Minneapolis, pp. 33-68.
[2] Williamson, p. 62
[3] Issacs, Dialogic leadership, 1999.