The parable of the sower, like so many of Jesus’ stories, reflects the essentially agricultural context of the society to which he and his followers belonged. The sower doesn’t feed his seeds sparingly into a narrow drill, as you and I might do; he scatters them generously – that is to say, he spreads the good news freely. No patch of soil, however unpromising, no human heart however stony, is beyond reach or beyond hope.
The little book of Ruth is about just such a seed. Ruth was an impoverished widow, a foreigner – a despised Moabite – yet she was to become a crucial link in the chain of lineage which was to blossom as the royal house of David, and ultimately of Jesus the Messiah. Reading her story again this week has caused me to think not only about Ruth but about some of the other women whom we encounter in the Bible, and what we might learn from them.
Starting with Ruth herself, the mainspring of the action is her devotion to Naomi her mother-in-law. At the outset of the story Naomi has lost her husband and both her sons. In these circumstances she decides to return to her family in Bethlehem, urging her two Moabite daughters-in-law to take the corresponding decision to remain with their families. Orpah accepts her release, but Ruth rejects that entirely reasonable option with this memorable declaration of loyalty and commitment:
Where you go, I will go; where you lodge, I will lodge;
your people shall be my people, and your God my God.
Where you die, I will die – there will I be buried.
Arriving in Bethlehem at harvest time, Ruth immediately seizes the opportunity to mix legitimately with the men of the community by exercising her right as a poor widow to glean behind the reapers. Having successfully attracted the attention of Boaz, who turns out to be both rich and distantly related, Naomi encourages her to make herself as attractive as possible to him, and creep discreetly into his bed on the threshing floor while he and his companions, after a good meal and a hard day’s work, are fast asleep. There is delightfully ambiguous advice from Naomi about what she should do when she has got there, and she slips away again before dawn, but not before Boaz has determined to marry her. And the rest is history as they say – her fortunes are restored, and with them those of Naomi, who becomes the proud grandmother of a baby boy – Obed – grandfather to King David.
If we were hoping to find in Ruth a feminist role model, we are disappointed. She demonstrates initiative in exploiting the framework of social conventions within which she finds herself, but she does not seek to overturn those conventions. Her success is measured by attracting a rich man to become her husband, and in producing a male heir. Much the same is true of the three other Old Testament heroines who rate a mention in Matthew’s curiously selective genealogy of Jesus the Messiah. Tamar, Rahab and Bathsheba were all courageous, strong-minded women, who used their sexual charms in a variety of more or less scandalous ways to achieve their own legitimate purposes. God was able to use them to advance his purposes too. They are credited with acting boldly and independently, but they are honoured in the scene-setting introduction to Matthew’s gospel because they are seen to have played a part in securing the line of male descent which leads from Abraham through David to Joseph and Jesus.
If Ruth is no feminist, nor is she much of a model for the opening up of Israel to foreigners. The continual references in the story to Ruth’s Moabite origins may well be intended to counter the prejudice against foreigners as such, but her virtue lies in abandoning her Moabite culture and religion to become a Jew – your people shall be my people, and your God my God. This is one possible approach to cultural integration, and it is still popular to-day, but we have begun to recognise that such an approach is rooted in an arrogant, imperialist assumption that all who come to live here must cut themselves off from the cultural roots which nourish their identity. With all due respect to Bishop Nazir Ali, the debate about what it means to be British is better kept separate from the debate about what it means to be a Christian. Over the centuries Britain has been greatly enriched as we have absorbed successive waves of migration. We should celebrate the influences that are found all over the place in our language, our cooking (thank goodness) and our customs. When it comes to matters of religion, there can be no compromise or accommodation with the worship of other gods, though we can learn from other perceptions of the one true God, as indeed we may benefit from other approaches to spirituality. The challenge we face is how to discern that which is fundamentally different and unacceptable from that which appears to be different, but is actually the product of different social and cultural norms interacting with the same gospel. Ruth’s insistence that ‘your people shall be my people and your God my God’ is an admirable expression of her loyalty, but it does not help us to find that difficult balance.
Clearly we have to look beyond Ruth and beyond the feisty heroines of Matthew’s Messianic genealogy to find female role models in the Bible. Yesterday was a feast day for the visit of the Blessed Virgin Mary to her cousin Elizabeth. Elizabeth is another figure who is remembered mainly for being a mother – mother of John the Baptist – but with Mary we enter a different realm of deeper significance. Yes, of course her role as a mother is important too, but whereas some of the other women I have mentioned this evening feature in the Biblical rollcall of honour despite their scandalous behaviour, Mary is not just blameless, she is an outstanding example of the obedience to God’s calling which is characteristic of Jesus himself, and as such a role model for men and women alike. ‘Thy will be done’ we are taught to pray; in Mary’s words ‘be it unto me according to thy word’.
Another lesson which Mary can teach us has to do with the relationship of parent to child. The Magnificat, her song of praise and thanksgiving, echoes the song of another Old Testament heroine – Hannah – the mother of the prophet Samuel. When Hannah’s deeply felt prayers were answered by the birth of Samuel, she saw that the only way she could adequately express her gratitude for the gift she had been given was to give the child back to God by dedicating him to God’s service with Eli in the temple. What a sacrifice of love that must have been. And of course both Mary and her cousin Elizabeth have to learn the same lesson. The child with which each of them has been entrusted is not theirs but God’s gift to the world.
Obedience and good parenting are not specifically feminist values, but Mary’s song, the Magnificat, is representative of the theme of liberation which is an integral part of the gospel message. The liberation, not least the liberation of women, which has taken place as we have begun to understand how we should respond socially and politically to the challenges expressed in the Magnificat, has already had profound consequences not just for women, but for our attitude to all who are downtrodden, marginalised and undervalued. What a hundredfold harvest has sprung from that seed. There is so much more to do before the vision set out in Mary’s song comes fully to fruition, but no wonder the embryonic John the Baptist leaped for joy in Elizabeth’s womb.
Loving obedience, exemplary parenting, faith and hope in the promise of liberation – few of the women that we encounter in the pages of the Bible offer us as much as Mary does – and none of these lessons is gender specific. But before I close, just one more name to conjure with. Abraham’s wife Sarah is remembered for laughing when she overheard the news that she would bear a child when she was, as she supposed, beyond the age for child-bearing. I believe there was faith as well as astonishment in that laughter. We are meant to laugh. God’s world is a funny, loveable place. This is not the time to say more about Sarah Knight, but I’m sure that she too would be pleased to be remembered for her own good-natured chuckle.