Devotional

Teaching the Book of Ruth

In response to my earlier post on Campbell‘s comments about characters in the Bible John asked for a little guidance.

I have just started teaching Ruth on Wednesday nights. If you will, give me a little insight that would improve my job as teacher. We are going through the OT/HB and are beginning Ruth. Thanks.

I started to write a reply and it got a bit long and I realized that organizing my thoughts this way was useful to me and perhaps to others. So John, thank you for the request and I hope it is helpful to you and others. And here, ladies and gentlemen, is a brief introductory study guide for the Book of Ruth.

I love really do love this book and I hope others enjoy studying it. I have posted a few things I have been working/thinking on over the last two years with regards to Ruth. I would suspect you are more than fully qualified yourself at teaching Ruth, but here are a few things I often pull out of the text in a lay context.

I should first point out that I do not say a lot about the dating of Ruth to a church or synagogue group because it is rarely fruitful. (However, I will dip into the question of Ezra’s divorce decree [Ezra 9-10] with reference to Ruth as a Moabite, as you will see.)

The book is only 4 chapters. How would you characterize each chapter?

What might this reveal about the structure of the book, its message, and its characters?

Consider the fact that the book is titled, in our canon, “Ruth.”¹

Who is the “real” hero in this story? There is no “right” answer to this if scholarly consensus (or lack thereof) is anything to go by. (But see my next article!)

In what ways do the women in this book behave as we might expect a woman in the biblical world to behave? How do they differ? (And then perhaps also help your group to understand what we do/do not know about social norms and contexts of ancient Israel.)

How do these women breakdown the social expectations?

What role does Ruth’s foreignness play in the story?

Now read Deut. 23:3 and see if your thoughts about Ruth’s Moabite identity change how you view the story.
Now consider Ezra 9-10. In light of Ruth, is Ezra right in requiring the men divorce their “foreign” wives?

Is Ruth just an entertaining if thought provoking story or is there something deeper, more theological?

If there is a theological “point,” what is it?
How is that message conveyed through the characters, plot, and narrative?

A few final suggestions for topics to noodle over:

Gender roles – How definite are they, are boundaries crossed, etc.
Power – Who is in a position of power in this story and how do they use that power. As important, who is not in a position of power and does that change or how do they cope with that?
Culture and Tradition – What roles do these play in Ruth? How are the challenged and manipulated?

As you can see, in none of this do I get into issues of date, historicity, and so on. They are important and interesting questions but usually beyond what is appropriate for a church or synagogue study group. As I have said often, I think the best approach is to take the text seriously, that is to accept it on its terms and begin there. It is a “theological” text because the author assumes God exists and is at work with his people. Begin there and then conversation can move on from that point.

Of course it is one of only two books in the Bible named after a woman. Once you have completed the study of Ruth, Esther is a nice counterpoint. [↩]

Jesus, “Not my will but…”

Apr 20th, 2011

by Christian Brady.

2 comments

This post, like the previous one on Paul last week, is part of my larger devotional study Characters of God. This was presented this past Sunday, Palm Sunday. Characters of God is primarily about the flawed nature of biblical figures, how we can relate to and what we can learn from them. In this case, Jesus is not flawed, so the question is, how do we fulfill Paul’s call for us to be like Christ, if we are patently not without sin.

Jesus

How do we reflect Christ?

Phil. 2.1 If then there is any encouragement in Christ, any consolation from love, any sharing in the Spirit, any compassion and sympathy, 2 make my joy complete: be of the same mind, having the same love, being in full accord and of one mind. 3 Do nothing from selfish ambition or conceit, but in humility regard others as better than yourselves. 4 Let each of you look not to your own interests, but to the interests of others. 5 Let the same mind be in you that was in Christ Jesus,

6          who, though he was in the form of God,
did not regard equality with God
as something to be exploited,

7          but emptied himself,
taking the form of a slave,
being born in human likeness.
And being found in human form,

8                      he humbled himself
and became obedient to the point of death—
even death on a cross.

9          Therefore God also highly exalted him
and gave him the name
that is above every name,

10         so that at the name of Jesus
every knee should bend,
in heaven and on earth and under the earth,

11         and every tongue should confess
that Jesus Christ is Lord,
to the glory of God the Father.

The New Testament presents us with two very different views of Jesus. The Gospels provide us with the history of his life including his teachings, healings, miracles, death and resurrection. The epistles or letters that form the majority of the remainder of the NT describe the risen Lord in terms that are often highly theological and spiritual. For example, we find in the Letter to the Hebrews the following description of Jesus as the High Priest who actively petitions God in heaven on our behalf.

Heb. 4.14 Since, then, we have a great high priest who has passed through the heavens, Jesus, the Son of God, let us hold fast to our confession. 15 For we do not have a high priest who is unable to sympathize with our weaknesses, but we have one who in every respect has been tested as we are, yet without sin. 16 Let us therefore approach the throne of grace with boldness, so that we may receive mercy and find grace to help in time of need.

When I read passages like this I am reminded just how far I am from being “Christ-like.” Even if I am ordained a priest in the Episcopal Church, no one will mistake me for being a “great high priest!” And while I have been tempted and tested I have not come through without sin. Jesus has and this is the heart of the Gospel message of which Lent is such a vital reminder, that he became a man, suffered, died for our sins, and now makes intercession for us before the throne of God.

One of the themes we have discovered this month is that when each of these figures encountered God their lives were dramatically changed as they allowed themselves to be brought into submission to his will. But now we have come to Christ himself. How does meeting with God bring about a change in Jesus’ life? He is God, so how does he “encounter” God?

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Zealous much? Paul, Character of God

Apr 11th, 2011

by Christian Brady.

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Dining with St. Paul - A lovely salad plate to go with your Spode.

I have mentioned before, three years ago, in fact, that I am working on a devotional book called “Characters of God.” This Lent I led our Adult Forum class (sounds vaguely naughty when I write that out) at our church through several of these chapters. This past Sunday was Paul and I don’t believe that I have ever shared it on this site. Keep in mind this was originally written to be read aloud at a silent retreat (oxymoronic, I know, but if you have ever been on one you know the drill, leader reads a meditation, you go off and meditate). There is much that I would rewrite today, but I thought I would simply post it as is. I hope it is useful during the Lenten season.

Acts 7.54 When they heard these things, they became enraged and ground their teeth at Stephen. 55 But filled with the Holy Spirit, he gazed into heaven and saw the glory of God and Jesus standing at the right hand of God. 56 “Look,” he said, “I see the heavens opened and the Son of Man standing at the right hand of God!” 57 But they covered their ears, and with a loud shout all rushed together against him. 58 Then they dragged him out of the city and began to stone him; and the witnesses laid their coats at the feet of a young man named Saul. 59 While they were stoning Stephen, he prayed, “Lord Jesus, receive my spirit.” 60 Then he knelt down and cried out in a loud voice, “Lord, do not hold this sin against them.” When he had said this, he died. 1 And Saul approved of their killing him.

That day a severe persecution began against the church in Jerusalem, and all except the apostles were scattered throughout the countryside of Judea and Samaria. 2 Devout men buried Stephen and made loud lamentation over him. 3 But Saul was ravaging the church by entering house after house; dragging off both men and women, he committed them to prison.

Acts 22.3 “I am a Jew, born in Tarsus in Cilicia, but brought up in this city at the feet of Gamaliel, educated strictly according to our ancestral law, being zealous for God, just as all of you are today. 4 I persecuted this Way up to the point of death by binding both men and women and putting them in prison, 5 as the high priest and the whole council of elders can testify about me.”

Gal. 1.13 You have heard, no doubt, of my earlier life in Judaism. I was violently persecuting the church of God and was trying to destroy it. 14 I advanced in Judaism beyond many among my people of the same age, for I was far more zealous for the traditions of my ancestors. 15 But when God, who had set me apart before I was born and called me through his grace, was pleased 16 to reveal his Son to me, so that I might proclaim him among the Gentiles….

Rom. 10.1 Brethren, my heart’s desire and prayer to God for them is that they may be saved. 2 I bear them witness that they have a zeal for God, but it is not enlightened.

We do not know very much about Paul before he was confronted by Christ on the road to Damascus. What we do know is contained in these few passages.[1] As “Saul” he was a man devoted to “the traditions of my ancestors” and he used all his power in order to stamp out heresy and to keep heterodox views of Judaism from spreading. This included jailing people and perhaps even having them put to death. (Note the phrase “I persecuted this Way up to the point of death” [Acts 22.4], which might suggest that he did not actually seek their execution, but that may simply be a reflection of the fact that the Jews did not have the authority to execute anyone during Roman times.)

Saul’s zeal took him to great extremes and the consequences were dire for those whom he opposed. We can all think of various moments in history, sadly including present day situations, where an individual’s or group’s commitment to their ideology and theology led them to commit atrocities. And it is easy for us to condemn such actions. We hear frequently within our own church about those who are encouraging hatred of others under the guise of defending orthodoxy and our minds swirl with images of Galileo and Cranmer. But is zeal always bad? That is a much harder question to ask.

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Lenten Poetry: Facing It

Apr 3rd, 2011

by Christian Brady.

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This morning an MFA graduate student led our class and led us through several poems relating to Lent. I did not realize this would our class and it is coincidental that I have been considering writing some poetry (and wrote some doggerel as a student, but have not tried anything lately). I am inspired, but I am not sure if it is to write yet. One I found particularly moving is “Facing It” by Daniel Berrigan. I thought I would share it.

FACING IT

Who could declare your death, standing
obedient as Stylites, empty as death’s head
moving gently as the world’s
majestic sun into light?

It was as hollow death; men
dread it like plague. Thieves die this way,
charlatan, rejects. A good man’s thought recoils;
his best years, aspiration, children

beckon a different road. To grow old yes,
gently one day to stop breathing, home and faces
drifting out of mind. Abrupt violence even
he can countenance, a quick mercy on disease.

but not this. The mother’s face
knotted, mottled with horror.
A vision,
a few men destroyed.

It is always like this; time’s cruel harrowing,
furies at the reins of fortune
wild horses dragging
the heroic dishonored body on time’s ground.

O for an act of God! we cry, before death utterly
reduce to dust
that countenance, that grace and beauty.

I had several and many thoughts about this poem. This Lent several people close to me or close to people I know have died, brining home the reality of our mortality in an uncomfortably direct way. I just heard, an hour ago, that my friend and colleague Brian Hesse, just succumbed to a pulmonary problem. He was director of our Jewish Studies program and when I was ordained into the priesthood sent me a very generous gift for vestments.

As Berrigan says, “A good man’s thought recoils; his best years, aspiration, children beckon a different road. To grow old yes…” I travel a lot in my role as dean and with young children I find myself always considering the consequences of my passing. Not that I was keen to die before we had children, I think I would always struggle to say with Paul, “to die is gain” though I strive so that “to live is Christ.” As I was traveling this past week I was listening to a Radio Lab podcast on mortality. The final piece is particularly jarring, though it is a story of a man dying at the age of 92, after a long and healthy life.

This is Lent, a time that begins with remembering our mortality and that we are but dust and ends with the death of the Christ. It is sadly fitting then to be considering and contemplating death.

And yet, I am afraid that we (and by we, I mean “I”) spend our Lent reflecting on our physical mortality when I believe that we are actually to be concerned with the death of sin and our sinful ways. It is a bit of a cop-out to simply consider what limited time I have on This Earth without considering why I am here and how I should be living the life that God has given me. I will get on the plane this Friday because I need to continue living and doing (and this particular case, I am traveling to go and bring comfort to those who grieve). The death on the cross brought about the death of sin and while it confirmed what we all knew, this flesh is but dust, the resurrection affirmed the whispered rumor, that we will live again. How then shall I live?

Lamb-entations: “You can believe in God and still miss Him.”

Mar 24th, 2009

by Christian Brady.

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That title was not mine, but that of the print version of Carla Carlisle’s “Spectator” column in Country Life magazine from last Lent. (Thanks to Philip Jenkins for sending me a copy last week.) Carlisle is not only a columnist, but also a farmer (near as I can tell) in England who raises sheep. Last year she reflected on the fact that her father used to read all of the book of Lamentations every Lent, because he “believed it was spiritually lazy not to concentrate in the run up to the most momentous event in the Christian calendar.” She admits to never having finished the book (now that is lazy, spiritually and otherwise!) but offers some thoughtful musings nonetheless. Last year, you will remember, was the 5th anniversary of the war in Iraq.

Between the beginning and ending of these broadcast laments, lambs were born. Lambs arriving during Holy Week have a Biblical poignance. The Old Testament is full of shepherds looking for new pastures. The Gospel for the Sunday after Easter begins ‘Jesus said, I am the good shepherd’. All week long, our pastures were transformed into windswept tundras, with howling winds and bitter rain, hail and snow. Each morning, I tried to scoot the newborns and their mamas into the shed. Without a sheepdog, this is a job that requires picking up the lambs and encouraging their mothers to follow. There are no sheepdogs in the Bible either, an oversight that Jesus may have lamented during the parable of the lost sheep. Once inside the shed, I settle down, a lamb tucked inside my jacket, and my radio tuned into Book of the Week. The choice for Holy Week was Julian Barnes’ Nothing To Be Afraid Of, a meditation on mortality and the fear of death. He begins: ‘I don’t believe in God, but I miss Him.’

By the time Easter Sunday arrived, the snow had descended like a veil over the countryside, a climatic version of the cloud in Lamentations, created so ‘that our prayers should not pass through’. Modern theologians claim that Lamentations is not a breast-beating, self-pitying lament, but an account of a disaster that, without offering easy grace or cheap hope, tells us how to handle grief. It’s a useful interpretation when there is much to grieve about. The cries of the bewildered ewes as we take away the lambs that didn’t survive the freezing night. The milestone of ‘4,000 American soldiers dead’ reached by Evensong on Easter Sunday. Tibetan monks dying for freedom. Houses repossessed. I could go on.

But I’m trying not to dwell on the ‘grandeur of sadness’, but to marvel at what has lived. Daffodils that survived the snow. Lambs that have begun their lamb games and the bereaved ewe that has adopted a hungry triplet. The hope that someday even this war will end. And here’s the Lamentation for the Day: you can believe in God and still miss Him.