MIXED MARRIAGE
A sermon preached by
Rev. Dr. Randle R. (Rick) Mixon
First Baptist Church, Palo Alto, CA
Sunday, November 1, 2009
Text: Ruth 1:1-18
Mixed marriage may seem like a peculiar way to talk about today’s text, but it is the title that popped into my head when I thought about the ancient word Ruth Owen read for us this morning. It may be largely because of the curious practice of using Ruth’s pledge to Naomi in wedding ceremonies that my mind went in that direction. I remember singing that text at my best friend’s wedding 35 years ago. Ruth’s beautiful promise of fidelity has little to do with the practice of heterosexual marriage, especially as it currently plays out in our culture. At least it does not seem so on the surface. Nowadays people often remove the “until death do us part” phrase from the marriage vows, letting go of the deepest part of Ruth’s passionate promise. It’s much easier to say, “I’ll stick around as long as it’s convenient.” Hardly, “Where you die, I will die— there will I be buried. May the Lord do thus and so to me, and more as well, if even death parts me from you!” How did this young widow come to make such a pledge to an older woman of a different culture and religion?
The commentators all characterize the book of Ruth as a perfect short story, a jewel of a tale that made it into the Bible partly because of its beauty and partly because it provides a bridge for the transition from the time of the judges to the time of the kings in ancient Judah. The book reads like a fable – “In the days when the judges ruled…” “Once upon a time, long, long ago, there was a famine in the land. No rain for ages. The good soil turned into a dust bowl. So Elimelech packed up the old Chevy truck with all their worldly goods and he and Naomi and the boys struck out for greener pastures. They crossed the border in the dead of night, far from any of the established border crossings, in case they would be barred from entering hostile Moab. It was humiliating to have to escape to such a foul, foreign place, but he’d heard crops were good and there was work there. He and Naomi agreed they had to provide for the family, no matter what.”
I wonder how many variations on this story are re-enacted every day in our own time. How many immigrants and refugees cross borders in search of survival, fleeing starvation and disease, escaping bombs and mines and hostile neighbors, attempting to avoid indentured servitude and human trafficking? The story may be old, but I have a feeling it’s also new, recurring daily in the world around us. The ancient story doesn’t give us all the difficult details, but the move to Moab must have taken a toll on Elimelech and Naomi and their sons, as such moves do on all refugees and immigrants, aliens and strangers. It must have been extremely hard to leave behind family, friends and familiar environment, everything you knew and loved and valued most. But survivors somehow find the courage to do what they have to do, don’t they?
Elimelech dies. Was the whole venture too much for him? Did he somehow sacrifice his own health and life to insure that his family was provided for? We don’t know, but we can imagine it was so – and is so. But Naomi is not left without resources. She is not alone. She still has her two boys, Mahlon and Chilion. She is not left destitute. In time, the boys, who really did not remember much about Bethlehem, became so accustomed to life in Moab that they married fine Moabite women. You see, life does go on outside our ancient beliefs and traditions and all the challenging changes we go through on the journey.
Unfortunately these two boys, whose names happen to be translated “Sickly” and “Frail”, also died. Now Naomi really was in a fix. Not only were there no men left to provide for her, but she was far from her own people and now had two daughters-in-law for whom she felt responsible. In the time and place in which they lived, there were few people more desperate than women with no men to provide for them. Naomi has heard that things are better back home and decides that she must return. Initially her two daughters-in-law start the journey back to Judah with her. It seems she is glad for their company. They may have chosen to go with her because they felt they had no other options, but I wonder if a strong bond had not developed among these women, not just out of necessity, but because of the remarkable character that each of them shows. These are people bound together because they have learned to love and care for one another, through the good times and the bad.
But Naomi has second thoughts about taking her daughters-in-law to a strange land. Perhaps she remembers how difficult that transition was for her and she does not want them to have to face that struggle. As we know, Orpah, hears the wisdom of Naomi’s council and returns to the known dimensions of her own land and people, reasoning that she is better off taking her chances there than traveling to a far-off, foreign place. But Ruth has seen something in the Naomi - her strength, her passion, her faith, her capacity for love and care - that compels her to stand by her mother-in-law.
All these women are fascinating characters. It is no wonder that readers through the centuries have been drawn to them. If I were naming the book, I would have called it “Naomi”, for indeed she is the richly complex character who drives the story. As she arrives back in Bethlehem, we hear her tell her old friends and neighbors, “Call me no longer Naomi [“pleasant”], call me Mara [“bitter”], for the Almighty has dealt bitterly with me. I went away full, but the Lord has brought me back empty…” (This sounds a little like hyperbole given the companionship she has in Ruth.) Naomi is bitter, frustrated, angry, sad, certainly. She sounds like Job as he wrestles with the adversity that falls on him. But like Job, she remains faithful. She does not turn away from God in her bitterness. She actually seems to turn toward God – shaking her fist, shedding her tears, mourning her loss, yes, but also putting one foot in front of another and living into whatever future God – and she! – can put together. Lawrence Farris says, "Naomi is a woman who knows herself to be in relationship with God, and she is therefore feisty and open to the future. Hers is the faith that Ruth seems to catch, and finally comes to bet her life on." Her strong faith and passion for life is what draws Ruth to Naomi and calls out Ruth’s own pledge of fidelity.
The marriages of Mahlon and Chilion to Ruth and Orpah literally were mixed marriages. We have no sense of what it cost them to be in a mixed marriage. Maybe it was perfectly acceptable. However, most of us can remember anti-miscegenation laws in this country, when mixed marriages were illegal and certainly were not socially acceptable. We know people deeply and harshly affected by that injustice. We may still be aware of situations in which young people are discouraged or forbidden to marry people who are not “our kind.”
Though I am not suggesting that Ruth and Naomi had a carnal relationship, there is clearly a kind of bond between them that one might also label a “mixed marriage”. Their relationship at least illustrates the kind of covenantal interdependence that ought to characterize the best of all sorts of relations, regardless of race, class, ability, gender or sexual orientation. This text encourages us to celebrate such committed relationships wherever they are found because they are all too rare and often do not survive without community support.
There are three truths to glean from this ancient word that may speak to us today. One is radical hospitality. Hymn writer, Brian Wren writes, “Break the bread of belonging. Welcome the stranger in the land. We have each been a stranger. We can try to understand.” The cross-cultural bond between Ruth and Naomi was a powerful word to the ancient Judeans, and still is to us. God does not support the divisions we have built up within creation and which we defend so fiercely against God’s desire that we live in peace and harmony, as sisters and brothers, God’s children all.
The second is that radical love breaks down those barriers and draws us in to communion with God and one another. There is a real representation in this tale of love that will not let go, and how it draws a response in kind. “You have loved me and taught me, seen me and known me, touched me and healed me. I want to go with you wherever the road may lead. Having you as my journey partner is enough.” Ruth has seen, lived out in Naomi, a witness to covenantal relationship with God. So, with her own sacred vows, she signs on to follow.
The third consideration, in this season of thanksgiving and stewardship, is about giving. There is, in this story, a model of divine care, one that inevitably leads to a covenantal community of care, such as ours. Kate Huey says, “This is a beautiful theme for the time of year when many churches ask their members and friends to re-commit to the mission of God as it is lived out in their congregation and in the wider church as well. In fact, our pledge of time, talent, and treasure in the coming year is a kind of renewal of promises like the renewal of marriage promises. Out of love and commitment, we look back in love and gratitude, and then look forward in love and hope, and re-state our promise of faithfulness to the covenant we share in the church. We can join Ruth and Naomi on the road, during a difficult economic time ourselves, and offer the gift of ourselves in return for the many gifts God has given us.”
It is a kind of “mixed marriage”, this covenantal relationship we have with God and with each other in the church. In times good and bad, through thick and thin, in famine and especially in the feast we celebrate around this table, it is my deep hope that we will find ourselves and our community to be rich in radical love and radical hospitality for all of God’s creation. May we respond always to our mission and our common life with deep commitment and great generosity.