scenes of early faith, and oftener still without any pressure of
necessity or any purpose of returning. Emigration appears to be forced
upon many in these times, the compulsion coming not from Providence but
from man and man's law. It is also an outlet for the spirit of adventure
which characterizes some races and has made them the heirs of
continents. Against emigration it would be folly to speak, but great is
the responsibility of those by whose action or want of action it is
forced upon others. May it not be said that in every European land there
are persons in power whose existence is like a famine to a whole
country-side? Emigration is talked of glibly as if it were no loss but
always gain, as if to the mass of men the traditions and customs of
their native land were mere rags well parted with. But it is clear from
innumerable examples that many lose what they never find again, of
honour, seriousness and faith.
The last thing thought of by those who compel emigration and many who
undertake it of their own accord is the moral result. That which should
be first considered is often not considered at all. Granting the
advantages of going from a land that is over-populated to some fertile
region as yet lying waste, allowing what cannot be denied that material
progress and personal freedom result from these movements of population,
yet the risk to individuals is just in proportion to the worldly
attraction. It is certain that in many regions to which the stream of
migration is flowing the conditions of life are better and the natural
environment purer than they are in the heart of large European cities.
But this does not satisfy the religious thinker. Modern colonies have
indeed done marvels for political independence, for education and
comfort. Their success here is splendid. But do they see the danger? So
much achieved in short time for the secular life tends to withdraw
attention from the root of spiritual growth--simplicity and moral
earnestness. The pious emigrant has to ask himself whether his children
will have the same thought for religion beyond the sea as they would
have at home, whether he himself is strong enough to maintain his
testimony while he seeks his fortune.
We may believe that the Bethlehemite if he made a mistake in removing to
Moab acted in good faith and did not lose his hope of the divine
blessing. Probably he would have said that Moab was just like home. The
people spoke a language similar to Hebrew, and like the tribes of Israel
they were partly husbandmen partly keepers of cattle. In the "Field of
Moab," that is the upland canton bounded by the Arnon on the north, the
mountains on the east and the Dead Sea precipices on the west, people
lived very much as they did about Bethlehem, only more safely and in
greater comfort. But the worship was of Chemosh, and Elimelech must
soon have discovered how great a difference that made in thought and
social custom and in the feeling of men toward himself and his family.
The rites of the god of Moab included festivals in which humanity was
disgraced. Standing apart from these he must have found his prosperity
hindered, for Chemosh was lord in everything. An alien who had come for
his own advantage yet refused the national customs would be scorned at
least if not persecuted. Life in Moab became an exile, the Bethlehemites
saw that hardship in their own land would have been as easy to endure as
the disdain of the heathen and constant temptations to vile conformity.
The family had a hard struggle, not holding their own and yet ashamed to
return to Judah.
Already we have a picture of wayworn human lives tried on one side by
the rigour of nature, on the other by unsympathetic fellow-creatures,
and the picture becomes more pathetic as new touches are added to it.
Elimelech died; the young men married women of Moab; and in ten years
only Naomi was left, a widow with her widowed daughters-in-law. The
narrative adds shadow to shadow. The Hebrew woman in her bereavement,
with the care of two lads who were somewhat indifferent to the religion
she cherished, touches our sympathies. We feel for her when she has to
consent to the marriage of her sons with heathen women, for it seems to
close all hope of return to her own land and, sore as this trial is,
there is a deeper trouble. She is left childless in the country of
exile. Yet all is not shadow. Life never is entirely dark unless with
those who have ceased to trust in God and care for man. While we have
compassion on Naomi we must also admire her. An Israelite among heathen
she keeps her Hebrew ways, not in bitterness but in gentle fidelity.
Loving her native place more warmly than ever she so speaks of it and
praises it as to make her daughters-in-law think of settling there with
her. The influence of her religion is upon them both, and one at least
is inspired with faith and tenderness equal to her own. Naomi has her
compensations, we see. Instead of proving a trouble to her as she
feared, the foreign women in her house have become her friends. She
finds occupation and reward in teaching them the religion of Jehovah,
and thus, so far as usefulness of the highest kind is concerned, Naomi
is more blessed in Moab than she might have been in Bethlehem.
Far better the service of others in spiritual things than a life of mere
personal ease and comfort. We count up our pleasures, our possessions
and gains and think that in these we have the evidence of the divine
favour. Do we as often reckon the opportunities given us of helping our
neighbours to believe in God, of showing patience and fidelity, of
having a place among those who labour and wait for the eternal kingdom?
It is here that we ought to trace the gracious hand of God preparing our
way, opening for us the gates of life. When shall we understand that
circumstances which remove us from the experience of poverty and pain
remove us also from precious means of spiritual service and profit? To
be in close personal touch with the poor, the ignorant and burdened is
to have simple every-day openings into the region of highest power and
gladness. We do something enduring, something that engages and increases
our best powers when we guide, enlighten and comfort even a few souls
and plant but a few flowers in some dull corner of the world. Naomi did
not know how blest she had been in Moab. She said afterwards that she
had gone out full and the Lord had brought her home again empty. She
even imagined that Jehovah had testified against her and cast her from
Him in rejection. Yet she had been finding the true power, winning the
true riches. Did she return empty when the convert Ruth, the devoted
Ruth went back with her?
Her two sons taken away, Naomi felt no tie binding her to Moab. Moreover
in Judah the fields were green again and life was prosperous. She might
hope to dispose of her land and realize something for her old age. It
seemed therefore her interest and duty to return to her own country; and
the next picture of the poem shows Naomi and her daughters-in-law
travelling along the northward highway towards the ford of Jordan, she
on her way home, they accompanying her. The two young widows are almost
decided when they leave the desolate dwelling in Moab to go all the way
to Bethlehem. Naomi's account of the life there, the purer faith and
better customs attract them, and they love her well. But the matter is
not settled; on the bank of Jordan the final choice will be made.
There are hours which bring a heavy burden of responsibility to those
who advise and guide, and such an hour came now to Naomi. It was in
poverty she was returning to the home of her youth. She could promise to
her daughters-in-law no comfortable easy life there, for, as she well
knew, the enmity of Hebrews against Moabites was apt to be bitter and
they might be scorned as aliens from Jehovah. So far as she was
concerned nothing could have been more desirable than their company. A
woman in poverty and past middle life could not wish to separate
herself from young and affectionate companions who would be a help to
her in her old age. To throw off the thought of personal comfort natural
to one in her circumstances and look at things from an unselfish point
of view was very difficult. In reading her story let us remember how apt
we are to colour advice half unconsciously with our own wishes, our own
seeming needs.
Naomi's advantage lay in securing the companionship of Ruth and Orpah,
and religious considerations added their weight to her own desire. Her
very regard and care for these young women seemed to urge as the highest
service she could do them to draw them out of the paganism of Moab and
settle them in the country of Jehovah. So while she herself would find
reward for her patient efforts these two would be rescued from the
darkness, bound in the bundle of life. Here, perhaps, was her strongest
temptation; and to some it may appear that it was her duty to use every
argument to this end, that she was bound as one who watched for the
souls of Ruth and Orpah to set every fear, every doubt aside and to
persuade them that their salvation depended on going with her to
Bethlehem. Was this not her sacred opportunity, her last opportunity of
making sure that the teaching she had given them should have its fruit?
Strange it may seem that the author of the Book of Ruth is not chiefly
concerned with this aspect of the case, that he does not blame Naomi for
failing to set spiritual considerations in the front. The narrative
indeed afterwards makes it clear that Ruth chose the good part and
prospered by choosing it, but here the writer calmly states without any
question the very temporal and secular reasons which Naomi pressed on
the two widows. He seems to allow that home and country--though they
were under the shadow of heathenism--home and country and worldly
prospects were rightly taken account of even as compared with a place in
Hebrew life and faith. But the underlying fact is a social pressure
clearly before the Oriental mind. The customs of the time were
overmastering, and women had no resource but to submit to them. Naomi
accepts the facts and ordinances of the age; the inspired author has
nothing to say against her.
"The Lord grant you that ye may find rest, each of you in the house of
her husband." That the two young widows should return each to her
mother's house and marry again in Moab is Naomi's urgent advice to them.
The times were rude and wild. A woman could be safe and respected only
under the protection of a husband. Not only was there the old-world
contempt for unmarried women, but, we may say, they were an
impossibility; there was no place for them in the social life. People
did not see how there could be a home without some man at the head of
it, the house-band in whom all family arrangements centred. It had not
been strange that in Moab Hebrew men should marry women of the land; but
was it likely Ruth and Orpah would find favour at Bethlehem? Their
speech and manners would be despised and dislike once incurred prove
hard to overcome. Besides, they had no property to commend them.
Evidently the two were very inexperienced. They had little thought of
the difficulties, and Naomi, therefore, had to speak very strongly. In
the grief of bereavement and the desire for a change of scene they had
formed the hope of going where there were good men and women like the
Hebrews they knew, and placing themselves under the protection of the
gracious God of Israel. Unless they did so life seemed practically at an
end. But Naomi could not take upon herself the responsibility of letting
them drift into a hazardous position, and she forced a decision of their
own in full view of the facts. It was true kindness no less than wisdom.
The age had not dawned in which women could attempt to shape or dare to
defy the customs of society, nor was any advantage to be sought at the
risk of moral compromise. These things Naomi understood, though
afterwards, in extremity, she made Ruth venture unwisely to obtain a
prize.
Looking around us now we see multitudes of women for whom there appears
to be no room, no vocation. Up to a certain point, while they were
young, they had no thought of failure. Then came a time when Providence
appointed a task; there were parents to care for, daily occupations in
the house. But calls for their service have ceased and they feel no
responsibility sufficient to give interest and strength. The world has
moved on and the movement has done much for women, yet all do not find
themselves supplied with a task and a place. Around the occupied and the
distinguished circles perpetually a crowd of the helpless, the aimless,
the disappointed, to whom life is a blank, offering no path to a ford of
Jordan and a new future. Yet half the needful work is done for these
when they are made to feel that among the possible ways they must choose
one for themselves and follow it; and all is done when they are shown
that in the service of God, which is the service also of mankind, a task
waits them fitted to engage their highest powers. Across into the region
of religious faith and energy they may decide to pass, there is room in
it for every life. Disappointment will end when selfish thoughts are
forgotten; helplessness will cease when the heart is resolved to help.
Even to the very poor and ignorant deliverance would come with a
religious thought of life and the first step in personal duty.
II.
_THE PARTING OF THE WAYS._
RUTH i. 14-19.
We journey along with others for a time, enjoying their fellowship and
sharing their hopes, yet with thoughts and dreams of our own that must
sooner or later send us on a separate path. But decision is so difficult
to many that they are glad of an excuse for self-surrender and are only
too willing to be led by some authority, deferring personal choice as
long as possible. Let an ecclesiastic or a strong-minded companion lay
down for them the law of right and wrong and point the path of duty and
they will obey, welcoming the relief from moral effort. Not seeing
clearly, not disciplined in judgment, they crave external human
guidance. The teachers of submission find many disciples not because
they speak truth but because they meet the indolence of the human will
with a crutch instead of a stimulus; they succeed by pampering weakness
and making ignorance a virtue. A time comes, however, when the method
will not serve. There are moments when the will must be exercised in
choosing between one path and another, advance and retreat; and the
alternative is too sharp to allow any escape. If the person is to live
at all as a human being he has to decide whether he will go on in such
a company or turn back; he has to declare what or who has the strongest
hold upon his mind. Such an occasion came to Ruth and Orpah when they
reached the border of Moab.
To Orpah the arguments of Naomi were persuasive. Her mother lived in
Moab, and to her mother's house she could return. There the customs
prevailed which from childhood she had followed. She would have liked to
go with Naomi, but her interest in the Hebrew woman and the land and law
of Jehovah did not suffice to draw her forward. Orpah saw the future as
Naomi painted it, not indeed very attractive if she returned to her
native place, but with far more uncertainty and possible humiliation if
she crossed the dividing river. She kissed Naomi and Ruth and took the
southward road alone, weeping as she went, often turning for yet another
sight of her friends, passing at every step into an existence that could
never be the old life simply taken up again, but would be coloured in
all its experience by what she had learned from Naomi and that parting
which was her own choice.
The others did not greatly blame her, and we, for our part, may not
reproach her. It is unnecessary to suppose that in returning to her
kinsfolk and settling down to the tasks that offered in her mother's
house she was guilty of despising truth and love and renouncing the
best. We may reasonably imagine her henceforth bearing witness for a
higher morality and affirming the goodness of the Hebrew religion among
her friends and acquaintances. Ruth goes where affection and duty lead
her; but for Orpah too it may be claimed that in love and duty she goes
back. She is not one who says, Moab has done nothing for me; Moab has no
claim upon me; I am free to leave my country; I am under no debt to my
people. We shall not take her as a type of selfishness, worldliness or
backsliding, this Moabite woman. Let us rather believe that she knew of
those at home who needed the help she could give, and that with the
thought of least hazard to herself mingled one of the duty she owed to
others.
And Ruth:--memorable for ever is her decision, charming for ever the
words in which it is expressed. "Behold," said Naomi, "thy sister-in-law
is gone back unto her people, and unto her god: return thou after thy
sister-in-law." But Ruth replied, "Intreat me not to leave thee, and to
return from following after thee: for whither thou goest, I will go; and
where thou lodgest, I will lodge: thy people shall be my people, and thy
God my God: where thou diest, will I die, and there will I be buried:
the Lord do so to me, and more also, if aught but death part thee and
me." Like David's lament over Jonathan these words have sunk deep into
the human heart. As an expression of the tenderest and most faithful
friendship they are unrivalled. The simple dignity of the iteration in
varying phrase till the climax is reached beyond which no promise could
go, the quiet fervour of the feeling, the thought which seems to have
almost a Christian depth--all are beautiful, pathetic, noble. From this
moment a charm lingers about Ruth and she becomes dearer to us than any
woman of whom the Hebrew records tell.
Dignified and warm affection is the first characteristic of Ruth and
close beside it we find the strength of a firm conclusion as to duty. It
is good to be capable of clear resolve, parting between this and that of
opposing considerations and differing claims. Not to rush at decisions
and act in mere wilfulness, for wilfulness is the extreme of weakness,
but to judge soundly and on this side or that to say, Here I see the
path for me to follow: along this and no other I conclude to go.
Unreason decides by taste, by momentary feeling, often out of mere spite
or antipathy. But the resolve of a wise thoughtful person, even though
it bring temporal disadvantage, is a moral gain, a step towards
salvation. It is the exercise of individuality, of the soul.
One may act in error, as perhaps Elimelech and Orpah acted, yet the life
be the stronger for the mistaken decision; only there must be no
repentance for having exercised the power of judgment and of choice.
Women are particularly prone to go back on themselves in false
repentance. They did what they could not but think to be duty; they
carefully decided on a path in loyalty to conscience; yet too often they
will reproach themselves because what they desired and hoped has not
come about. We cannot imagine Ruth in after years, even though her lot
had remained that of the poor gleaner and labourer, returning upon her
decision and weeping in secret as if the event had proved her high
choice a foolish one. Her mind was too firm and clear for that. Yet this
is what numbers of women are doing, burdening their souls, making that a
crime in which they should rather practise themselves. Our decisions,
even when they are made with all the wisdom and information we can
command in thorough sanity and sincerity, may be, often are very faulty;
and do we expect that Providence will perpetually interfere to bring a
perfect result out of the imperfect? Only in the perfect order of God,
through the perfect work of Christ and the perfect operation of the Holy
Spirit is the glorious consummation of human history and divine purpose
to come. As for us, we are to learn of God in Christ, to judge and act
our best; thereafter, leaving the result to Providence, never go back on
that of which the Spirit of the Almighty made us capable in the hour of
trial.
"Then welcome each rebuff
That turns earth's smoothness rough,
Each sting that bids nor sit nor stand but go!
Be our joys three parts pain!
Strive, and hold cheap the strain;
Learn, nor account the pang; dare, never grudge the throe!"[8]
[8] Browning: _Rabbi Ben Ezra_.
In religion there is no escape from personal decision; no one can drift
to salvation with companions or with a church. In art, in literature, in
ordinary morality it is possible to possess something without any
special effort. The atmosphere of cultured society, for instance, holds
in solution the knowledge and taste which have been gained by a few and
may pass in some measure to those who associate with them, though
personally these have studied and acquired very little. Any one who
observes how a new book is talked of will see the process. But the
supreme nature of religion and its unique part in human development are
seen here, that it demands high and sustained personal effort, the
constant action of the will; that indeed every spiritual gain must
result from the vital activity of the individual mind choosing to enter
and enter yet farther the kingdom of divine revelation and grace. As it
is expressed in the Epistle to the Hebrews: "We desire that every one of
you do show the same diligence to the full assurance of hope unto the
end: that ye be not slothful, but followers of them who through faith
and patience inherit the promises." The training in resoluteness,
therefore, finds highest value and significance in view of the religious
life. Those who live by habit and dependence in other matters are not
prepared for the strenuous calling of faith, and many a one is kept from
the freedom and joy of Christianity not because they are undesired, not
because the call of Christ is unheeded, but for want of the power of
decision, strength to go forward on a personal quest. Thousands are in
the way of saying, Will you go to an evangelistic meeting? Then I will
go. Will you take the Sacrament? Then I will. Will you teach in the
Sunday-school? Then I will. So far something is gained: there is a
half-decision. But the spiritual life is sure at some point to demand
more than this. Even Naomi's advice must not deter Ruth from taking the
way to Bethlehem.
Like many women Ruth was moved greatly by love. Was her love justified?
Did it rightly govern her to the extent her words imply? "Whither thou
goest, I will go: thy people shall be my people: where thou diest I will
die, and there will I be buried." It is beautiful to see such love: but
how was it earned?
Surely by years of patient faithful help; not by a few cheap words and
caresses, a few facile promises; not by beauty of face, gaiety of
temper. The love that has nothing but these to found upon is not enough
for a life-companionship. But if there is honour, clear sincerity of
soul, generosity of nature; if there is brave devotion to duty, there
love can rest without fear, reproach or hazard. When these cast their
light on your way, love then, love freely and strongly; you are safe. It
is indeed called love where these are not--but only in ignorance and
lightness: the heart has been caught by a word, ensnared by a look. How
pathetic are the errors into which we see our friends and neighbours
fall, errors that call for a life-long repentance because reason and
serious purpose had nothing to do with the loving. No law of God is
written against human affection, nor has He any jealousy of the devotion
we show to worthy fellow-creatures; but there are divine laws of love to
restrain our weak fancy and uplift our emotions; and if we disdain or
cast aside these laws we must suffer however ardent and self-sacrificing
affection may be. Egotistical wilfulness in serving some one who engages
our admiration and passionate devotion is not properly speaking love. It
is rather an offence against that divine grace which bears the noble
name. Of course we are not here speaking of Christian charity towards
our neighbours, interest in them and care for their well-being, which
are always our duty and must not be limited. The story we are following
is one of an intimate and personal affection.