"Claiming One Another" a sermon using as a basis
Ruth 1:8-17,22 and 2:1-12
Rev. Felipe N. Martinez
GUEST PREACHER AT FIRST PRESBYTERIAN JANUARY 21, 2007
I know that kids give parents plenty of things to worry about. As a teenager, I didn=t give my mom and dad too much trouble, which didn=t mean they didn=t still worry about me. Occasionally I=d be out late and get home after everyone had gone to bed. Gone to bed didn=t necessarily mean asleep, though. As I=d enter the house, I knew mom was in her Ahalf-asleep@ mode. I=d walk by mom and dad=s open bedroom door, and I=d say, softly: AMama, ya llegué.@ (Mom: I=m home). I spoke softly even though I knew I couldn=t easily wake dad up. Mom, suddenly alert, would simply say AAy, que bueno, m=hijito" (Very well, my son). The next morning she would ask me how my evening had gone. I would tell her about going with friends, etc., and she=d listen. I have to admit, though, that there were times when I edited myself a little. No, I didn=t lie; I just maybe didn=t tell her about the crazy drivers I steered clear of, for example. And it was just as well I didn=t tell her. If I had, she=d only worry more.
What came unexpectedly, however, was that as I grew up I began to be in the position of being one who worries. We have two daughters, and as a father I worry about them; that much is normal. What I didn=t expect was that I would start to worry about my parents. My dad lived to 93 (he died last summer) and my mom is now 81, and she still lives in Mexico. We talk or email often. They=ve been in good hands there, with two of my siblings caring for them at home, and two more a few minutes away, but I would still worry about how they are. But I=ll give you an example of the kind of story which only fuels my anxiety. Eighteen years ago, as part of their 45th wedding anniversary present, my family gave my mom and dad a trip to Europe. It was the first time they had ever been in Europe. They went with a tour to England, France, Germany, Italy. They enjoyed themselves, took lots of pictures, had lots of stories. When they got back, they shared with us a story about getting lost in London.
For some reason, my parents (neither of whom speaks much English) were feeling adventuresome and decided to venture out by themselves and take the Underground or Tube (what they call the London subway) to go somewhere. They had a subway stop right by their hotel, so they boarded there, figuring they=d go to their destination and back again on the same train. What could go wrong? Well, on their return, when they got off at their station, something was definitely wrong. It all looked different (I wonder if the outgoing and incoming trains arrived at a different part of the same station). The point was, they soon realized they were lost. They asked a few people, but no one was able to help them. Then dad went up to this young man, maybe in his mid 20s, a rather tall and muscular fellow. Dad said to the man something like AWhere is the Penta Hotel?@ (the place where they were staying). The young man started to give them directions, but recognizing their limited English, instead he motioned Afollow me.@ So, mom and dad started to follow this guy, who kept walking and walking, and began to take them down a flight of stairs and then through a rather long, deserted tunnel. Mom began to get worried. She said to my dad, in Spanish AI=m scared.@ But dad replied, ADon=t worry. He looks like a good person.@ At the end of the tunnel, they made a turn and were suddenly at the foot of another set of stairs, these ones going up. He pointed at the stairs and said simply APenta Hotel.@ Mom exhaled and said AThank you, Lord.@ Dad smiled, dug in his pocket, and held out some money, maybe one or two pounds, as compensation for the young man=s trouble. The young man hesitated, but dad insisted. The man smiled and took the couple of bills, then he began the five minute walk all the way back to the place where mom and dad had asked for directions.
As mom and dad climbed the stairs, which did eventually lead them to the street level and to their hotel, mom asked dad almost in a chastising manner AWeren=t you scared?@ (Mom thinks dad is too trusting). Dad replied ANo. He reminded me of someone I used to work with many years ago.@ Then, as they approached the hotel, Dad said upon further reflection AYou know, that young man was an angel God sent our way, to help us.@ I of course don=t know this young man=s name; I don=t know anything about him. Why did he help mom and dad that day? Did he feel sorry for them? I can only imagine what it=s like living in a big city that gets so many tourists, and just being annoyed at all these foreigners everywhere. And yet he went out of his way, literally, to help them. I wonder if he didn=t look at my mom and dad and thought AI=ll help this older couple because they remind me of my grandma and grandpa@
Generally, we worry about and help those within our own circles, especially family. The test comes when someone outside that circle seems in trouble: how does our care extend to them? I think of that young man, helping my mom and dad when he clearly didn=t have to. And I think of dad, trusting him, perhaps naively, but really trusting him. All because the young man reminded him of someone he knew. That young man welcomed mom and dad, if only for five minutes, into his circle, into his family. He did what I would expect a family member to do.
Real acts of compassion, true acts of ministry are often the direct result of stretching our definitions of who we choose to consider part of the family. That stretching is truly risky: it requires such faith and courage, on the side of the giver and the receiver. While some would say: AWhy should I help you? I hardly know you@ others lend a hand as if to a beloved sister or grandfather. Such is the lesson of Ruth.
The story of Ruth defines what faithful and courageous ministry is, because at its core it is a story of strangers claiming each other as relatives, stretching the boundaries of family. With the deaths of their husbands, Ruth was no longer bound to her mother-in-law Naomi, but neither had anyone else in the world. Ruth stepped forward, with fresh tears in her eyes, and said in effect: "I will not desert you. We belong to each other." Ted Campbell translates Ruth=s speech in his Anchor Bible commentary this way: ADo not press me to abandon you, to turn back from following you. For wherever you go, I will go; where you lodge, I will lodge. Your people become my people; your God is now my God. Where you die, I shall die and there be buried. Thus may Yahweh do to me, and thus may he add, if even death will separate me from you.@ (Campbell 1975, 61-62) Yet even Ruth could not recognize that same courageous kindness when it was offered to her. She stood baffled before Boaz and said AWhy are you being so kind to me; I am only a foreigner?@ Boaz replied: "We know about your kindness to Naomi. Today, we claim you, and we claim Naomi. You belong with us."
It is when we claim each other as brothers and sisters that something incredibly powerful happens, that surprising blessings appear. It is to this courageous ministry that you are called, you as a congregation, you as a newly ordained minister. It is a ministry of family-making, of widening circles of connection. A ministry of welcoming AND of being welcomed. And that=s particularly fitting, really, as through this service you publicly claim each other, as congregation and associate pastor.
Courageous kindness may not make the headlines, but it establishes and affirms that character of a church. What=s exciting to me is that this joyful moment in the life of the congregation offers you a wonderful opportunity to affirm that character, that congregational identity as a pillar in this city, and your ever widening interpretation of the word Acommunity.@
We are called as a church, as a presbytery, to focus on ministry guided by Ruth=s courageous kindness, by Naomi=s and Boaz=s intentional redefinition of family. We welcome and at the same time discover we have ourselves been welcomed.
We claim one another. Your people, my people. Your God, my God.
Campbell, Edward F., Jr. 1975. Ruth: A New Translation with Introduction and Commentary . The Anchor Bible, Vol. 7. New York: Doubleday.
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