A Sweet Song!

Whenever the processions of the immortal women pass — queens and enchantresses, princesses and discoverers — I see at their head a woman, her linen robe long, touching the ground, a broad girdle binding her waist, and on her head a great white kerchief covering head and shoulders and part of her breast.

Ruth has walked in the processions of history for three thousand years and more, yet her name remains in the register of immortality as the example of that lofty love which — by the power of its loftiness — earth and heaven reward... The Torah — the oldest book of history — has recorded between its covers the names of women whom the world has known: among them Jezebel, most wicked of queens, and the Magdalene, the repentant sinner, and others; but Ruth has remained, always and forever, the sweet song of the generations.

Thousands of years ago a famine struck Bethlehem and the country around it, and Elimelech emigrated from it with his wife Naomi and his two boys, in search of livelihood. They lived years in exile, during which the head of the family died and the two boys grew up; then both of them died, and the three women were left — a bereaved mother and two young widows.

And the land of exile grew black in Naomi's eyes, so she rose to return to Bethlehem, and her two daughters-in-law went out with her to bid her farewell outside the city. The bereaved mother-in-law stopped and kissed the two young women, and the three wept, and Naomi said: Turn back, my daughters. Why should you go with me? Are there sons in my womb, that they might become husbands for you...? No, my daughters; my soul is bitter for your sakes. Return to your people, and may God grant that each of you find rest in the house of her husband.

And the voices rose in weeping, and one daughter-in-law kissed her mother-in-law and turned back; but Ruth, the immortal song of love, did not. She said: Do not press me, for I will not leave you. Where you go, I go; where you die, I die; there your people is, and your homeland is my homeland; only death shall part me from you.

The mother-in-law found no word to say before this resolve, and the two women journeyed together and entered Bethlehem; and the city was shaken with grief at their bitter tragedy — above all for the aged woman, who kept saying: Call me no longer Naomi, but Mara, for the Almighty has dealt bitterly with me; I went out full and have come back empty.

And Ruth began to work to support herself and her mother-in-law. It was the time of the barley harvest, and the plains stretching from Bethlehem to the Holy City were waving with gilded ears of grain, bowing their heads under their own weight. Ruth went out on the first day to glean, behind the reapers, the grains or the ears that slipped from their hands. And the owner of the field — "a kindly man of ripe years" — came and saw her and asked about her; and when he learned who she was, he charged the reapers to treat her well,

and to leave ears of grain for her on purpose. And he said to her: I have learned what you have done for your mother-in-law, and how you left your homeland and your people for her sake — God bless you. Stay always behind my reapers, and when they move to another field, go after them; eat of their food, and dip your morsel in the dish in which they dip.

And it was as he said. When she sat beside the reapers to eat, he handed her some of the roasted grain, and she ate, and set aside part of what he had given her to carry in the evening to her mother-in-law. And when the day was over she returned home with an ample quantity of barley, and her mother-in-law's share of the roasted grain, and told her the name of the man in whose field she had worked. And Naomi said: He is a kinsman of ours; do as he has told you. And Ruth did so, and went on working behind the reapers of Boaz until the barley harvest and the wheat harvest ended; then she stayed with her mother-in-law.

The man was the second redeemer of the stricken family; and the first redeemer had the right to buy whatever the deceased had owned, if there was anything to be sold. Naomi had a piece of land, and she thought of the second redeemer, Boaz, and began to lay out a plan for her daughter-in-law — a plan which, if it proves anything, proves that the young woman's love had so moved the mother-in-law that she herself would go seeking a husband for her, to take the place of her beloved dead son, though it would deprive her of the labors of this tender daughter-in-law who supported her and lightened the blackness of her life.

And the young woman went forth according to the appointed plan, and lay down one night at the feet of the redeemer; and when he sensed her presence and asked who she was, she said what her mother-in-law had taught her: I am your handmaid Ruth; spread the skirt of your garment over me, for you are our redeemer. And the kindly man was moved, and said: Blessed are you, my daughter, for you have not run after the young men, rich or poor. Fear not; go to your mother-in-law... All the city knows that you are a virtuous woman; and tomorrow, when morning comes, I shall arrange everything.

And morning came, and Boaz gathered ten of the elders of the city, and the first redeemer — holder of the first right to buy what belonged to

Naomi — and a crowd of the city's people; and he said before them all: Naomi wishes to sell the piece of field that belonged to our brother Elimelech, and I said I would inform the first redeemer, before the elders of the city and its people, in case he wishes to buy; if he does not, then I shall. And the first redeemer did not buy, so Boaz bought, and called the elders and those present to witness that he had bought all that had belonged to Naomi's husband and her two sons, and that he would also take Ruth as his wife, to raise up the name of her dead husband upon his inheritance, that it might not perish.

And Ruth married, and bore a male child; and the people said to Naomi: He is your son, for your daughter-in-law who loves you has borne him, and she is better to you than seven sons. And Naomi took the boy and laid him in her bosom and devoted herself to his rearing. And Obed, son of Ruth, grew up to father Jesse, the father of David the prophet; and Ruth became grandmother to the prophet and king David; and from the loins of David sprang the Lord the Redeemer.

Such is the immortal story of Ruth, which the Holy Book recorded between its covers and the generations have repeated. Before this young woman, this personality overflowing with love and fidelity, one stands amazed... One finds in her an infinite tenderness, as though the mother-in-law had become — for the first and last time in history — a true mother, for whose sake her daughter sacrifices her future, her people, her homeland, and everything... Ruth could have found a husband among her own people, as her mother-in-law told her... She could have found among the members of her own family the consolation she would never find in the company of this bereaved old woman whose whole life had become blackness upon blackness — a burden heavy for a young woman to bear, whatever her own grief, since hope in her soul is alive and shining... She could have found her bread among her own people; and had she not found it, she would have worked to support herself alone, not to support another creature besides — her mother-in-law... But the young woman of noble character sacrificed everything... She saw in this aged woman only a bereaved mother whose two young sons had died together after her husband, leaving her alone and wretched in the world — how could she leave her?

And we find in Ruth an infinite tenderness: from her bread, and even from the grains of roasted wheat given her to eat, she keeps back a handful to carry to the poor old woman... What love... what compassion... what humanity...

And we find in Ruth, further, a blind trust in the old woman and an exemplary obedience to her. From the first day she told her all that had happened to her in the field, forgetting neither the name of its owner nor his kindness to her... Then she left it to the old woman to lay the plan... Do thus, my daughter, and do thus... And the young woman did; she carried out the instructions letter by letter, and the outcome was as the old woman had intended.

And we find in Ruth, after all this, a most virtuous woman, who wishes to live by the sweat of her brow; and there rings in our ears the word of the redeemer, when he found her at his feet at midnight: Blessed are you, my daughter, for you have not run after the young men, rich or poor; all the city knows that you are a virtuous woman...

And now — how often do people disbelieve in goodness, how often do they repeat that there is no reward in this world, and that heaven takes no notice of what one does... Have such people ever thought of the story of Ruth?... She loved greatly, and the fragrance of her love spread abroad and all inhaled it; and the fragrance of her sacrifice, her virtue, and her nobility of character spread likewise, so that every creature looked kindly upon her; and the result was this happy marriage to that wealthy and wise man in whose field she had wished only to go on gleaning wheat and barley. Thus she found in her exile a homeland where all loved and honored her, and found, after the loss of her husband, a generous and noble husband.

As for heaven's reward — how great it is: that this girl should become an immortal idea in history, and become grandmother to one of the greatest men of the world, the king and prophet David; and then that from the loins of David should come her descendant, the Lord Christ.

Yes, the earth rewards, and heaven rewards — there is no doubt of it — but on one condition: that we do not give with one hand while stretching out the other, open, to receive the reward. Then it mocks us; for it would have us love for the sake of the greatness of love itself, and give for the sake of the pleasure of giving itself; and then the blessings of heaven pour down upon us.