9. Naomi, Ruth, and Hannah: Seasons of Motherhood
9
NAOMI, RUTH, AND HANNAH
Journey is an appropriate metaphor for the lives of Naomi, Ruth, and Hannah. Naomi journeys to Moab; Ruth joins her on the return trip to Judah. But more than a geographical journey, theirs is a spiritual journey. Naomi makes a journey into faith as surely as Ruth does. For Hannah, the longest journey of her life is the twenty-five miles between Ramathaim and Shiloh, taking her young son Samuel to the temple to be left with old Eli—some might say, abandoned. For Hannah, however, this is first and foremost a spiritual journey.
The book of Judges concludes with a horrific story of a concubine whose dead body, after she had been gang-raped, was cut into twelve parts, one part sent to each of the twelve tribes of Israel. Her torturous death was avenged by more bloodthirsty killing, and women from pagan tribes are kidnapped as wives for the guilty men. Texts of terror are what these biblical passages have been called. Women here are unfortunately seen as expendable.
But with the turn of a page the scene suddenly changes. Women are the lead characters. The pastoral setting in which Naomi and Ruth find themselves is vastly different from the battlefields of the Judges. Naomi and Ruth as well as Hannah are all featured in the private realm, as opposed to the public realm of Deborah, Gideon, Samson, and other judges. Their issues are personal, familial, and relational. The pain is that of widowhood and barrenness, not military defeats. The pace has slowed down, and the reader is able to catch a breath and empathize with the difficulties these women are facing.
Throughout the history of ancient Israel, there is a mingling with the so-called enemy tribes. The Israelites make war with them, to be sure. But they also interact and intermarry with apparent ease. There is no effort to apologize for Naomi and her husband taking their sons to Moab, where they marry local women. If times are hard in Judah, why not move to Moab? It is a mobile society. Relocation offers better opportunities.
In many respects Naomi and Elimelech have much in common with Hannah and Elkanah. Like so many of their nameless neighbors, they are ordinary folks who are facing difficult circumstances. Neither family commands wealth or power or influence like the great patriarchal families of Genesis. Nor are the two wives imposing women as Sarah and Rebekah had been. Their stories, rather, represent the silent majority, whose legacies will nevertheless have historic consequences.
The writing of history is most often focused on great leaders and events, as in Judges. But the Bible also gives a prominent place to the private side of life, as in the accounts of Naomi, Ruth, and Hannah.
Naomi: Much-Loved Mother-in-Law
As wife and mother she surely must have discussed a major relocation with her husband. The crops are burning up in the field. All of Judah is facing a famine with no end in sight. In the marketplace, stalls are bare except for a few high-priced bags of grain. How can a husband and wife survive, to say nothing of two growing sons, in an economy like this? So they face the most difficult decision of their lives. Bethlehem is the only home they have known. But they pack up their belongings, bid farewell to their neighbors and kin, leave their parched land, and set off on the road to Moab.
Moab would certainly not have been their first option. There is grain aplenty there, but it is an altogether pagan land. However, they have to make a choice: famine, or false gods and food. They opt for the latter. So Naomi settles down among the strange gods and heathen temples with her husband Elimelech and her sons Mahlon and Kilion. They would stay true to God and perhaps return home soon. But the plans go awry when Elimelech dies.
Now widowed, Naomi has all she can do to keep her family afloat. After a time the sons each marry Moabite women, Orpah and Ruth. Life is getting back to an even keel. But in the decade that follows, even greater affliction befalls the household. Both sons also die. She has barely progressed through the stages of grief when they start all over again. Life is utterly grim—but for her dear daughters-in-law.
Initially Naomi is so prostrated by grief that she barely functions. But as she begins to take charge of her life again, she contemplates returning to Bethlehem. That is her hometown. Perhaps a change of scenery will lift the pall that covers her days. She has no means of livelihood in Moab and no blood relatives. Maybe kinfolk will take her in if she goes back home. Her decision is clinched by the news trickling back to her from Judah that God has now broken the stranglehold of the famine.
She informs Orpah and Ruth that she will be heading home to Bethlehem. They are troubled. How can they stand by and allow her to make this journey alone? They will go with her. After all, she is the family matriarch, and, outside of their own memories, she is the only link they have to their late husbands. It is the proper thing to do.
They haven’t traveled far, however, when she stops and informs them that they must not accompany her. She wants the best for these women who have become like daughters to her: “Go back. Go home and live with your mothers. And may GOD treat you as graciously as you treated your deceased husbands and me. May GOD give each of you a new home and a new husband!”[1]
Here is a woman who, it seems, has known only grief: grief over the loss of home and kinfolk and country, grief over the loss of beloved husband Elimelech and sons Mahlon and Kilion. Now she is voluntarily losing her dear daughters-in-law. She can hardly get the words out amidst their weeping. But she has to do it. She kisses them farewell, knowing she would never see them again.
They both insist that they will not return home. Rather, they will go with her and live in Bethlehem. Their bond with her is unusually strong. She had told them to return to live with their mothers, which suggests that their fathers may also have died. Their own mothers, Moabites themselves and perhaps with other children close by, would not have been as vulnerable as Naomi, alone on the road with an uncertain future in Judah.
Naomi, Ruth, and Orpah
But Naomi is serious. This is no game that she is playing. These are her dear daughters, and she wants what is best for them. There is simply no future for them back in Judah, living in a foreign country with no network of friends or support system of any kind. It will be hard enough for the widowed Naomi to find lodging for herself. Go back home, she insists. And then she resorts to sarcasm.
Even if she should find a husband right now in her old age, and even if she should get pregnant immediately, and even if she should bear two sons, would Orpah and Ruth want to wait until they are grown to marry them? She might have added: Would the sons want to marry these two much older Moabite women? The whole idea is preposterous. It would be silly for them to return to Bethlehem with her.
Orpah relents. She kisses her beloved mother-in-law farewell and in a flood of tears turns around and heads back home. But Ruth, also weeping, will not let go of Naomi. Naomi is persistent. She has not been fooling: “Look, your sister-in-law is going back home to live with her own people and gods; go with her.”[2] Ruth persists, and Naomi finally backs down, no doubt grateful to be accompanied by her daughter-in-law on the road to Bethlehem.
They arrive in town right at the beginning of the annual barley harvest. The marketplace is suddenly caught up in the news that Naomi, gone so long, has now returned—without husband and sons. She pours out her story. Indeed, Naomi is not shy about her miserable circumstances and who is to blame. She lays the responsibility squarely on God—God, who has ruined her. They should not even call her Naomi. Rather, Bitter, because she is so bitter about her terrible losses. She owns nothing besides the clothes she is wearing.
Here she is going on and on about her utter poverty and having nothing at all to be thankful for, as though her devoted daughter-in-law is not even there. What must Ruth be thinking?
In the days that follow, Naomi settles into the routine of village life, staying with kinfolk or an old neighbor until she and Ruth can find permanent lodging. When Ruth offers to go out into the barley fields and pick up what is left by the harvesters, Naomi is relieved. Any shame associated with such work is balanced by the necessity of eating. When Ruth returns late in the day with a big bag of barley, Naomi is incredulous. Sure, Ruth is competent enough, but gleaners typically don’t find that much grain left in the field after a harvest.
Naomi inquires where Ruth had been working, only to learn that she had been gleaning in the field of Boaz, a relative of her late husband. God perhaps isn’t so stingy after all. Naomi explains that Boaz is not merely a close relative, but part of the inner circle who would want to help in time of need, a “kinsman-redeemer.” Naomi ponders all of this in her heart, and each day she welcomes Ruth home with her sack of barley.
Toward the end of the harvest, Naomi comes up with a plan. She has been contemplating the good fortune of Ruth’s having become acquainted with Boaz and how he seems to have taken a special interest in her. Is this perhaps a way out of their poverty? Might there be a light at the end of this tunnel? Naomi has taken matters into her own hands by returning to Bethlehem. She surely has chutzpah and the wherewithal to further nudge the future in a favorable direction.
She has her ear to the ground and knows what is going on in the neighborhood. So she lays out her strategy to Ruth, first pointing out that it’s time for her to arrange for Ruth to have a home of her own. Ruth has become more than a dear daughter to her. She is the one who, hopefully, will care for Naomi in her old age—and the only one who can bring her the joy of grandchildren. She reminds Ruth that Boaz is a close kinsman and suggests that now might be just the right time to grab the bull by the horns, so to speak.
Taking this motherly advice, Ruth makes her move, going in the dark of night to see Boaz. When she returns, Naomi wants to know exactly what has happened. Naomi listens with optimism. She is convinced that Boaz will work things out. Indeed, he does just that, in a manner that would bring her great benefit.
Boaz makes the deal, by going to the town square and waiting for a certain close relative of Naomi’s late husband—closer than Boaz himself—to walk by. Boaz, with ten of the town’s leading men standing by, informs the relative that Naomi is selling property and that he, the closest kinsman, has first option to buy. The kinsman says he would like to purchase it. Only then does Boaz tell him that marriage to the widowed Moabite Ruth would come with the deal. The kinsman immediately backs out, not wanting to take on any legal liabilities that might jeopardize his own estate. He gives up his right to the property—and Ruth—and Boaz buys it and acquires Ruth in the deal. The kinsman seals the transaction by removing a sandal as proof of his honor.
Naomi’s life has turned around. She’s back home and no longer bitter. The women around town are all talking about how God has blessed her. She has family: a beloved daughter and son-in-law, and soon a grandson. Indeed, she is such a doting grandmother—“cuddling him, cooing over him, waiting on him hand and foot”—that the women call him “Naomi’s baby boy!”[3] Life is good.
Ruth: A Love Story with a Lasting Legacy
She hails from Moab, a plateau region on the eastern shore of the Dead Sea. Here people worship false gods and sometimes even sacrifice their own children. But for Ruth this is the only land she has ever known. She apparently has had a good upbringing, or she might not have grown into the stalwart adult she became.
As a young woman she marries a foreigner, with his own foreign God. Did she meet him on the street and fall in love, or was there a more mundane reason for her relationship with this Jewish man? The Moabites and Israelites were enemies, though they interacted with each other on many levels.
Everyday Life
Harvest Work and Celebration
The story of Ruth and Boaz brings together two significant aspects of everyday life in biblical times: harvest and care for the poor. Concern for those who were marginalized in society was embedded in Old Testament law. The poor—particularly widows and orphans—were an integral part of communities, and their well-being was not to be neglected. This was particularly true during harvest seasons, when gleaners worked alongside paid workers and landowners.
Gleaning was respectable work, and kindly landowners like Boaz acknowledged the presence of these workers and included them in the noon meal. Indeed, during this season there was often a celebratory spirit in the air in anticipation of the feasting and festivities that marked the end of the harvest.
The barley harvest came in first, then wheat, followed by the harvesting of grapes. The threshing floor—a flat clay surface—was where the threshing and winnowing of the barley and wheat was done. Workers used heavy sticks to beat the stalks of grain to open the ripened kernels. Then the stalks were shaken with the chaff flying away in the breeze while the kernels fell to the floor.
After the Midianites had stolen some of the grain stored on the threshing floor, Gideon (in Judg. 6) hides the rest of the harvest in the winepress, the last place they would look for it. Unlike the threshing floor, the winepress was made of stone. Grapes were stomped on the stone floor, and the juice collected and fermented for wine.
Ruth’s commitment to her destitute mother-in-law is simply astonishing. First, it means leaving her own family and land. Second, it means, as far as she knows, a life of widowhood and childlessness, because Naomi has no man to give, and if Ruth married a nonrelative, her commitment to Naomi’s family would be lost. Third, it means going to an unknown land with a new people and new customs and new language. Fourth, it was a commitment even more radical than marriage: “Where you die I will die and there be buried” (v. 17). In other words, she will never return home, not even if Naomi dies.
But the most amazing commitment of all is this: “Your God will be my God” (v. 16). Naomi has just said in verse 13, “the hand of the Lord has gone forth against me.” Naomi’s experience of God was bitterness. But in spite of this, Ruth forsakes her religious heritage and makes the God of Israel her God.
The Bible does not mention her father—only her mother, perhaps a widow living in poverty. Her mother and Naomi may have been neighbors, and it might have seemed reasonable that their children marry. Ruth does marry Naomi’s son Mahlon. But some ten years later both he and his brother (who is married to Orpah) die.
Naomi’s decision to return to her homeland comes as a surprise to Ruth. Ruth has lost her husband, and now this. Why would Naomi return to Judah after all these years? Has Ruth failed to shower her mother-in-law with love and hospitality? But Ruth is adamant. If Naomi goes, Ruth will go with her. She and her sister-in-law Orpah both pack their bags and bid farewell to their families. Naomi is silent as they start down the road toward Bethlehem.
When Naomi stops and tells them both to go back to their own families, Ruth clings tenaciously to this Hebrew woman who has become a mother to her. Orpah sadly makes an about-face and heads home. But Ruth refuses. She pleads with Naomi and then makes a pledge of devotion that ranks among the greatest vows ever offered in the history of humankind: “Whither thou goest, I will go; and where thou lodgest, I will lodge: thy people shall be my people, and thy God my God: Where thou diest, will I die, and there will I be buried: the LORD do so to me, and more also, if ought but death part thee and me.”[4]
When they arrive in Naomi’s hometown, Ruth is clearly the foreigner. The whole community is abuzz about her. Ruth seems less concerned about fitting in than making herself useful. It’s harvesttime, and she suggests to Naomi that she go out into the fields and glean the grain that has been left behind by the harvesters. She begins in a nearby field but then makes her way to a field belonging to Boaz.
Soon Boaz comes out to his field to check on his hired help and offer them the customary greetings. He notices Ruth gleaning and asks about her. The field supervisor explains that she is the Moabite woman who recently returned with Naomi and that she has requested permission to glean. Not only that, but she is a hard worker: “She’s been at it steady ever since, from early morning until now, without so much as a break.”[5]
Boaz shows interest. He walks over to where Ruth is gleaning, kindly addressing her as “my daughter.” He insists that she not glean on anyone else’s fields, but rather should work on his field with the other young women who are harvesting. He will see to it that no one bothers her, and she is to drink from the same canteens that are used by the other workers.
Dropping down on her knees and bowing low, she offers a fitting response: “How does this happen that you should pick me out and treat me so kindly—me, a foreigner?”[6]
Boaz responds in kind, letting her know that he has heard about her compassion for Naomi and her willingness to leave her homeland and live as a stranger. Then he offers her a blessing: “GOD reward you well for what you’ve done—and with a generous bonus besides from GOD, to whom you’ve come seeking protection under his wings.”[7]
Before he leaves, she again thanks him for his kindness. But it doesn’t end there. At the noonday lunch break, he calls her over to join him and the other harvesters to eat some of his bread dipped in wine as well as all she wants of the baked grain. Then Boaz instructs the harvesters to leave plenty of grain behind for her.
When Ruth arrives home that evening, she shows her mother-in-law her heavy sack of barley and gives her some of the bread that she had saved from the noon meal. Naomi is pleased to learn about the generosity of Boaz. She insists Ruth stick with him and the women who are gleaning in his field. Both she and Ruth know, however, the dangers that poor gleaning women face. With Boaz in charge, Naomi makes clear that she need not fear harassment of any kind.
With the harvest finished and the accompanying celebration at hand, Naomi hatches a plan and instructs Ruth in the proper protocol of courtship. Ruth takes her mother-in-law’s advice and arranges a midnight rendezvous with Boaz. She bathes and dons her best clothes for the encounter. She waits in the shadows until he has finished eating and drinking—when everyone else has consumed plenty of wine as well. She sees him head off by himself, and she follows in the distance. He is going to the threshing floor to sleep there. When she knows he has settled down, she slips up to where he is sleeping next to a pile of barley and lies down at his feet. This will send him a clear signal—a signal that she wants to marry him.
Ruth gleaning in Boaz’s field
She has rehearsed her words, so when he suddenly awakens before dawn not realizing who she is or what’s going on, she explains that she is his relative and wants him to know she’s available. He blesses her and compliments her, telling her that she is young and beautiful, but admits that she could have made a better choice for a husband than he.
Now wide awake, he explains that he’s actually not the closest of kin, and that someone else might be waiting in the wings. But he’s excited about the possibility and tells her to stay with him until morning. When she is getting ready to sneak back home before dawn, he stops her and asks her to spread out the outer garment she is wearing. He fills it full of barley to take home—perhaps thinking of it as an engagement gift.
Whatever the gift means, Ruth can feel no real sense of security. She is now fully aware that there is a nearer kin than Boaz. Who knows what kind of a man he is? She had her heart set on the kind and fatherly—and prosperous—Boaz. Israelite custom does not bow to a girl’s fancies. Both land and woman are bartered as a business deal.
When the bargain between Boaz and the other relative is struck in the town square, it is witnessed by a crowd of people who had gathered. Not merely curiosity seekers, they are official witnesses who vow to stand behind the agreement. No doubt someone in the group cuts out early to divulge the outcome to Ruth and Naomi—or perhaps the women themselves are among the crowd.
That very day—or soon thereafter—Ruth and Boaz are married. Now Ruth is no longer a stranger. She has a husband and a home in her adopted land. Sometime later she bears a son, Obed. Through him she would become a grandmother to his son Jesse, and great-grandmother to David.
David would become the most celebrated hero and king of Israel and would stand in the genealogical line of Jesus of Nazareth. Ruth, a marginalized Moabite, a foreigner and stranger, is chosen by God to be forever enshrined in the bloodline of the Messiah.
Ruth and Hannah are separated by no more than a long day’s journey. Ruth is probably old enough to be Hannah’s mother. Did their paths ever cross? Elkanah, Hannah’s husband, had lived previously in Bethlehem. Might Hannah and Samuel have returned to visit family and become acquainted with the beloved matriarch Ruth? An intriguing possibility.
Hannah: Giving a First-Born Son to God
Though Hannah may not have known of Ruth, she surely must have heard the stories of celebrated Israelite women of long ago. Some of their names were associated with the b-word. Sarah was barren; so were Rebekah and Rachel—until God opened their wombs. But they were famous wives of great patriarchs. Who was she that God should take notice of her anguish? Her husband was an ordinary Levite priest from the hill country of Ephraim.
Barrenness was bad enough, but when combined with the odious but socially accepted custom of polygamy, it was far worse. Malicious backbiting often permeated the household. The other woman, with her babies, knew that motherhood brought status. Hannah knows only the sting of infertility.
Like Rachel generations before her, Hannah is the more beloved of two wives. Her husband Elkanah is a religious man who comes from a long and distinguished line of the tribe of Levi. But he has no power to solve her problem. He dotes on her, however, giving her an extra helping of food during the annual time of worship and sacrifice in Shiloh. Second wife Peninnah makes a spectacle of trooping in with all her kids needing to be fed, always making a point that Hannah has no little ones trailing behind her. In fact, she taunts her to the point that Hannah breaks down weeping and cannot eat.
Elkanah tries to console her. They love each other deeply, and he thinks she should see the value of their relationship as worth more than children. Peninnah surely doesn’t share that abiding love with him. So Hannah gets a grip on herself and eats a small portion of the meal, but then leaves unobtrusively while the celebration continues. She slips into the temple unnoticed. This is her opportunity to be alone and pour out her heart to God. But no sooner does she start to pray than the tears begin to flow. And not tears only; she is sobbing and heaving in utter anguish.
Amid her weeping, she begs God for a son. So desperate is she that she promises to give him back to God—to bring him to this very temple in holy service.
The priest on duty that day is Eli. Hannah surely knew him by reputation. Indeed, he is not merely a priest but a high priest and a judge for forty years in Israel. And surely she knows of the corruption going on under his oversight. In fact, perhaps her tears and pleas for a son have to do in part with the appalling vice associated with his sons’ “ministry” and her deep longing to remedy the situation. At any rate she is weeping.
With no obvious training in pastoral care, Eli rebukes her. Here she is alone in the temple, silently praying and weeping, and he has no solace to offer. What he says is entirely out of order: “You’re drunk! How long do you plan to keep this up? Sober up, woman!”[8] Drunk? What is he thinking? She might have stormed out, pushing the old man off his stool as she leaves. But she is most deferential, insisting she is not drunk: “I am a woman who is deeply troubled. I have not been drinking wine or beer; I was pouring out my soul to the LORD. Do not take your servant for a wicked woman; I have been praying here out of my great anguish and grief.”[9]
Eli bids her leave with a blessing that God will grant her request. She wants more than that. She asks him to pray for her, and then she returns to her unfinished dinner, her spirits lifted. She and Elkanah leave for home, and she soon discovers she is pregnant. Indeed, less than a year later she gives birth to baby Samuel.
When Elkanah makes his next trek to Shiloh for the annual worship celebration, Peninnah and her brood go along, but Hannah stays behind. She has promised she will give her baby back to God, but not too soon. He must first be weaned. After he is weaned—no more than four or five years old—Hannah then takes her little boy to the temple in Shiloh for the annual celebration. It is not enough that she brings her only child; she also brings sacrificial offerings: the best bull, as well as grain and wine.
Without even flinching, Hannah goes straight to Eli, reminds him of her prayer some years earlier, and hands over the child. To old Eli, of all people! It is a stunning act of faith. The once-weeping woman in the temple is back again, this time with no mention or evidence of tears. How could she do it? It would be impossible for most mothers. But not only does she hand him over without tears; she sings a wild song of praise to God in the process, beginning with these words:
Hannah presents Samuel to Eli
I’m bursting with GOD-news!
I’m walking on air.
I’m laughing at my rivals.
I’m dancing my salvation.[10]
Following her song, Hannah and Elkanah return home. Each year Hannah makes the trip to Shiloh with Elkanah, heart pounding with excitement to see her son. She always has a gift—a garment that she has handcrafted especially for him. Each year Samuel would see more little brothers and sisters, five in all.
Hebrews 11 is known as the faith chapter that mentions one after another of the Old Testament saints whose faith was noteworthy. Why didn’t the author of that book include Hannah? By faith Hannah traveled to Shiloh to offer her only son Samuel to the aged and incompetent priest Eli, whose own adult sons were desecrating the place of worship. By faith she returned home, and God blessed her with more babies.
Concluding Observations
Naomi, Ruth, and Hannah—weeping women whose circumstances change and whose hearts are made glad. In each case, they have trusted in God—simple faith. Their stories encompass the domestic sphere of life. There are no Red Seas, no Jordan Rivers to cross, no mighty armies to defeat, no sun stopping to help solve their personal plights. Yet their problems penetrate to the depths of their being. Their worlds revolve around the family, and it is in this realm where they fight their battles and in the end prevail.
These women serve more readily as role models than do the commanders of vast armies. Their issues are ours—and not women’s only. They often feel like they have the weight of the world on their shoulders, but their problems are mostly personal or relational. They struggle not under the weight of global or national troubles, nor do they hold office or aspire to great prominence. Rather, they are ordinary individuals facing knotty issues not so different from those that people of every culture and social status have encountered in the millennia since.
Further Reading
Bankson, Marjory Zoet. Seasons of Friendship: Naomi and Ruth as a Pattern. Philadelphia: Innisfree Press, 1987.
Saake, Jennifer. Hannah’s Hope: Seeking God’s Heart in the Midst of Infertility. Colorado Springs: NavPress, 2005.
Sakenfeld, Katharine Doob. Just Wives? Stories of Power and Survival in the Old Testament and Today. Louisville: Westminster John Knox, 2003.