We are called to come together as one

The book of Ruth has been called an idyllic, romantic story. It just begins with famine, exile and death.

As the story begins, it is a time of famine. From Bethlehem, their home, a couple travel with their sons east and south across the Jordan Valley and down to the land of Moab east of the Dead Sea. There they live, with their two sons, for 10 years.

During that time, both sons marry, but then all three men die. Left alive are one mature woman and two younger, who are apparently as yet without children and young enough so they can remarry and find safety and refuge in new homes with new husbands, in their native land. That is what their mother-in-law urges them to do.

One takes this sensible and commonplace advice and turns back to her family home. The other goes beyond the call of duty and stays beside her mother-in-law. Now who is the exile? And what hope does she have?

For Naomi, arriving in Bethlehem is a homecoming. Ruth “returned with her” — but for Ruth it is to a land unknown. She is the stranger now.

What we know, that Ruth may not, is that this people to whom she has come has a tradition, a law even, about looking after the stranger and the widow, “for you were strangers once in Egypt.” (Exodus 22.21, Leviticus 19.34)

She could not have come to a better place. Where she arrives as a foreigner — spoiler alert — she will find a home such as she has never known.

The place where Ruth is arriving is at about the same elevation as the base of A Mountain, where Tucson’s birthplace Mission Garden grows.

Drawn by hope, or driven by fear, many people today travel across the desert places of the world: they may seek refuge, they may seek opportunity, but the journey is made every day across the expanse of the Mediterranean (“water, water everywhere, but not a drop to drink”) or through the desert south of Tucson.

We may have crossed deserts of our own. We may have been accompanied, or we may have been alone. Or we may have been among those greeting others as they arrived.

What the challenge is for us, old inhabitants or newcomers, is to become one community. Whether we meet each other as refugees or hosts, we are all called to come together as one. And to care for each other as one.

For the women in our story, it is not all up to them. By their own efforts they would never make it. But they are never alone. They are reaching a community — a community of kindness — that is imbued with the gifts and graces of the knowledge of a living God. God is with them, not in disguise, but in the way in which people treat each other. In the laws and customs, and practices and choices, of the people they come to live among.

As in the story of Naomi and Ruth, so in parables of the sower and of the mustard seed, the good news is that small beginnings lead to greater ends.

Insignificant in its size, a seed in the right ground germinates, sprouts and takes root, and properly tended — by the unseen hand of God — yields abundance. The kingdom of heaven is present in minute, hidden form as seed … and therefore as already present. Unpromising beginnings, great endings.

The people who first related these stories to each other left us a legacy of hope: “For surely I know the plans I have for you, says the Lord, plans for your welfare and not for harm, to give you a future with hope.” (Jeremiah 29.11)

It is into that hopeful future that we, like Naomi and Ruth, shall journey together.

It is into that hopeful future that we, infused with faith and walking in the Spirit, shall arrive.

Ruth 1. Psalm 146. 2 Corinthians 5:6-17. Mark 4:26-34.

Tucson faith leaders, we would like to include your original sermon or scriptures of encouragement. Sermons must be written by the person submitting them, not borrowed from another source or writer. If you are a faith leader from any religion or denomination, please contact Sara Brown at sbbrown@tucson.com.