Mark 6:6 And he was amazed at their unbelief.
Not much of a welcome-home for Jesus. Who is this guy to tell us what is what? Who does he think he is? We know his family! Or do they?
Who are Jesus’ family? Those who do the will of God.
What we have learned from the story of Ruth, Naomi, Boaz, and the Bethlehem community, is that family - and community - can be fluid and flexible, and belonging can begin with something other than familiarity, ancestry, or common origin. We see people acting on the basis of a larger community, a family of faith, we tend to call church, or the people of God. That, I think, is who Jesus is seeking out: in this passage and others. “Who are my mother and brothers and sisters? Those who keep my Father’s commandments.” (cf. Mark 3:35)
Who is doing the will of God: his family. How do we become his family?
Individually? Are we born with it? This is easy to answer if we think faith is something we keep to ourselves, some sort of membership card that can be flashed to collect benefits or enjoy discounts. But becoming part of God’s family is more than a private individual matter: it involves ourselves in humankind. Human. Kind. Not always those we have known from birth, or growing up; sometimes total strangers or people we won’t even know. Whoever they are, ‘family’, those who do the will of God, are kin to me and you.
So how extraordinary it was that Jesus was not welcomed home with more joy. Except possibly for what he had to say, and what he was going to do. From his hometown, he set out once more on his mission, and commissioned messengers, we call apostles, to spread out - and to move fast - to get the message out, too.
And what was that message? Good news! Turn, turn around, and make your way from the land of sadness, exclusion, them vs. us, cruelty, idolatry, into a new life, a new community, a new world. The kingdom of God, the reign of compassion and mercy, are at hand, right here among you: see the signs of wonder that warn you. It is here. Step into it; live it and believe it.
And, as they say in Doctors without Borders,
COMPASSION HAS NO BOUNDARIES.
In some ways the story of Ruth is an early warning of this in-breaking kingdom of joy: we are learning, and the people of Israel around her are learning, that the reign of God does not depend on an earthly sovereign or dominion power over others. It depends on power with - not over - others. It comes out of mercy and kindness, compassion and forgiveness. And it is strong. Strong as death, as the psalm says, and on its way, even already among us, at hand.
Was Ruth a prophet? Ruth bore in her own person a prophetic message as her presence revealed more about God: God was at work in the world bringing people together beyond kinship groups or survival alliances for a holy and great purpose.
I was thinking about how people are related as family and remembered…
When I was a file clerk at the EPA Region IX office in San Francisco, I came across correspondence regarding a new water treatment plant to be sited near Grass Valley, California. The correspondence was stamped in bright red letters: HANDLE AS PRESIDENTIAL. The first item in the file was a letter from one Ruth Milhous, to her nephew Richard, complaining about what she had heard would be a ‘cesspool’ near her house. It was signed, “Aunt Ruth.” And to the letter was attached a note, “She really is his Aunt Ruth.” Subsequent correspondence politely reassured her of the facts of the matter. (It’s a modern wastewater treatment facility, not an open, stinking cesspool.) The takeaway is this, of course: She really was his Aunt Ruth. She was family.
In our story, which concludes today (aw gee!) …wait, not entirely: because Ruth really is his great-grandmother; ‘him’ being David, the son of Jesse, the son of Obed, the son of Boaz and Ruth.
Before we go on there is that zany custom of theirs, closing a deal with a sandal…
“Now this was formerly done in Israel in cases of redemption or exchange: to validate any transaction, one party would take off a sandal and hand it to the other. Such was the practice in Israel. So when the redeemer said to Boaz, “Acquire for yourself,” he drew off his sandal.” (Ruth 4:7-8, JPS/2023)
(And thus Boaz took on the responsibility of the next-of-kin, and of a husband.)
This is not the deal we might expect from the later arrangement of the levirate marriage, where refusing to raise up kin to the deceased caught the response of a shoe in the face. That was a gesture of disgust and contempt. Happier times for Boaz and his cousin. It was simply an acknowledgment of the exchange: who was going to act as next-of-kin, as redeemer, for Ruth and Naomi and the late Elimelech and Mahlon.
One who had once been outside, a stranger, had become family indeed. Two isolated, lonely women had been welcomed into the embrace of a whole city. From widowhood they become mother and grandmother. But we have already noticed how Naomi referred to her daughter-in-law as ‘my daughter’ and even Boaz, Naomi’s kinsman, began by addressing her as ‘my daughter.’
She was what we call ‘married in’ but was hardly an outsider - following the laws and customs of that ancient time, family ties that had been frayed by famine and death were strengthened. The Lord, the hidden player in this drama, had been at work throughout, and the hand of God is now revealed in the way that what was small and unpromising, the remnant of the broken family of Elimelech, had been redeemed and welcomed into something great and flourishing, that will become the forebears of the family of David. Small beginnings, greater ends, seems to be the MO of our God.
Acting into the kingdom of heaven and making it real in our actions on earth, becoming like Ruth and Naomi steadfast comforters and hope-bearers, and claiming God’s way of compassion as our own - bring us into the story: we are now the people of God, who welcome and are welcomed in turn; thus giving the world around us a foretaste of the kingdom of heaven.
Two lonely widows: does that look like the start of a kingdom? A small act of kindness: will that change the world? Perhaps it does, perhaps it might.
“...for the Lord does not see as mortals see; they look on the outward appearance, but the Lord looks on the heart.” (1 Samuel 16:7b)
Compassion knows no boundaries.
How do we expand ours?
In some ways the answer may be as obvious as next door. New neighbors, while the noise of construction may not be soothing to the ears, may mean a new set of friends, and certainly of people to whom to offer a welcome.
In the old days in Russia a new neighbor was greeted with bread and salt. I haven’t seen that yet, here, but I have seen invitations extended and received, to getting-to-know you gatherings.
Beyond that sort of step, – and by the way, no strings attached: we cannot ask them to walk our dogs or join our committees, just yet anyway! – there are broader ways to spread the good news of the kingdom and to live into it. The acts of compassion symbolized and exemplified by food banks, clothes closets, soup kitchens, children’s clinics, and the other ministries of the church and the community around us, are part of that good-news spreading. They show that the kingdom is coming; it is already beginning.
Kingdom. Funny word. It usually brings up the image of a guy in a crown, or a woman waving to a crowd. But the kingdom of heaven is not that; it is more than that, and oddly less: there is no need for a crown. There is only need for compassion. Mercy. Kindness. Forbearance. Loving kindness. When you have those cooking the real kingdom is on its way. Let us rise up and welcome it.
Sermon Series: Ruth at Santa Cruz Lutheran Church, Tucson, Arizona. The Rev. Dr. John Leech.
July 7 ELW #676 “Lord Speak to Us that We may Speak”
First Reading: Ruth 4. Psalm: Psalm 127.
Second Reading: 2 Corinthians 12:2-10. Gospel: Mark 6:1-13.
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