Sermon: Pledge

Ruth 1:1-18; Matthew 3:31-34

But Ruth said, "Don't force me to leave you; don't make me go home. Where you go, I'll go; and where you live, I'll live. Your people are my people, and your God is my god; where you die, I'll die, and that's where I'll be buried, so help me God -- not even death itself is going to come between us!"

A crowd was sitting around him; and they said to Jesus, "Your mother and your brothers and sisters are outside, asking for you." And he replied, "Who are my mother and my brothers?" And looking at those who sat around him, he said, "Here are my mother and my brothers!"

They had nothing. They had no one. Or so they thought.

The book of Ruth begins as a complete tragedy. And in one sense, that’s obvious to us. We just heard from the opening of the book this morning, and we learn from the outset that Naomi and Ruth are experiencing tremendous losses. Naomi has lost her husband and her two sons. And Ruth has lost her husband, one of those sons. Naomi and Ruth have lost all the men in their family. It’s easy for us to see how tragic and sweeping that kind of loss would be.

But in another sense, it’s hard for us to wrap our minds around the depth of the fallout that these tragedies will create. In their ancient context, women are entirely socially and financially dependent upon the men of their families. It’s hard for us to imagine what life will be like for them as widows, as functional orphans – especially when they’re widows who are daring to leave their common surroundings. They’re leaving Moab for Judah, making a journey back to the homeland Naomi left more than ten years ago, traveling to a place that Ruth has never seen.

And on top of this, Ruth is a foreigner. And not just any foreigner. Ruth is a Moabite.

Listen to these words: "No Ammonite or Moabite shall be admitted to the assembly of the LORD. Even to the tenth generation, none of their descendants shall be admitted to the assembly of the LORD, because they did not meet you with food or water on your journey out of Egypt. . . You shall never promote their welfare or their prosperity as long as you shall live." That's from Deuteronomy. That’s one of the many negative statements about Moab, an ancient enemy of Israel. Clearly, these women are in a desperate situation.

They have nothing. They have no one. Or so they thought.

Because even in the midst of sweeping tragedy, something remarkable happens at the end of our text. Ruth – the one who has the most to lose – gives the most, and she does it by pledging herself. Naomi has had it. She sees no hope at all. Understandably, everything is colored through her losses. Everything seems bleak and tragic. So while they travel on the road, Naomi tells both of her daughters-in-law to go back home – to depart from her, to find different paths for themselves. “Go back, my dear daughters, why would you come with me? I have nothing to offer you.” And yet in response to that statement, Ruth is bold to offer herself. Orpah leaves Naomi, but Ruth pledges herself in love: “Where you go, I will go. And where you live, I will live. Your people will be my people and your God my God. Where you die, I will die. There I will be buried. So help me God! Not even death will come between us!”

They had no real resources.

They had no real community.

But - thanks be to God - they had one another.

And sometimes, that’s enough. Sometimes, that’s the beginning point from which love and grace-filled opportunities become possible. Ruth pledges herself to be with and for Naomi – to accompany her on a journey – not only on a journey to Judah, but on a journey through life itself – even if that journey involves sweeping tragedies. Sometimes, that pledge is enough. Sometimes, that pledge is a love and grace-filled beginning point. That’s certainly the case in the story of Naomi and Ruth.

Ruth’s pledge is the beginning point of a theme that runs all the way through the Book that bears her name. People continue to pledge themselves. People continue to go way beyond what is expected of them. Once the women arrive in Judah, Ruth begins to glean in the fields of a man named Boaz – to gather stalks of barley that are dropped in the hot sun while men work the long hours of the harvest. Boaz gifts Ruth with an abundance of barley that goes beyond a stalk here and a stalk there. He’s heard about her commitment – her astounding pledge – to accompany Naomi, and he continues to support them both by sending Ruth home with more than enough food. And that’s when Naomi and Ruth take some serious initiative. Through a series of customs that sounds ancient and foreign to our ears, Naomi sends Ruth to propose marriage to Boaz. Now that’s a radical thing for an ancient widow to do! – especially this widow, a foreigner from a despised land.

The theme continues. Boaz pledges himself to Ruth in marriage. And Boaz and Ruth give birth to a son, a son named Obed – Obed, the one who will become the grandfather of King David.

This foreign widow, Ruth, was included as an active participant the history of the Kingdom of Israel. This foreign widow, Ruth, gave hope to her mother-in-law when everything seemed hopeless. This foreign widow, Ruth, teaches us that a life-giving pledge of ourselves can turn scarcity into abundance and tragedy into redemptive moments of grace.

Incredible, isn’t it? And yet, maybe we shouldn’t be surprised. When we come here on Sunday morning, don’t we profess something similar about God? Don’t we claim that there is a loving God who pledges to be God to us – to accompany us in our very lives? We may come into this sanctuary with all sorts of thoughts, emotions, and distractions. We feel joy. We feel sorrow. We feel convicted. We have questions. We give thanks. We writhe with grief. We feel excited. We feel bored. We’re focused. We’re thinking about the sandwich we’ll eat later. We bring all of these things and more into a sanctuary on a normal Sunday morning. But the message is the same, and it has a claim on us wherever we are today. In love, God has pledged to be God to us. God has pledged to be God to us in all those places where we are. And to use good, Reformed, Presbyterian language, we can say, God has elected us. And that’s good news.

Election. It’s a theological word. But it’s not just a heady concept. It’s a reality that sweeps up our lives in an incredible way. When we say that God elects us, we are saying that God looks at each one of us and pledges love. God pledges to accompany every one of us. And here’s the amazing thing: There’s nothing we can do to undo that love. We can’t nullify it. We can’t make it untrue. God’s love is a pledge given freely for us –a chosen pledge. You and I are created to live in that love. And there’s nothing we can do to make God love us more; we can’t earn it. And there’s nothing we can do to make God love us less; we can’t undo it. That is the incredible claim of the Christian faith. And here’s amazing news: We can know that love and receive it. And we can live it and pledge ourselves to others, mirroring God’s election of us.

Here’s an interesting question: What happens when we take our theological ideas about God – the ways we understand our vertical relationship – and just turn them sideways? What happens when our theology exists on a horizontal plane too? In our humanity, our love is often flawed - and none of us can be God to one another - but the amazing news is that we can pledge ourselves to one another. In effect, you could say that we “elect” one another. What an incredible gift!

I'll tell you a story. Once I was on staff for College Connection, a conference at Mo Ranch, a Presbyterian camp and conference center in Hunt, TX and I overheard an interesting conversation. Two students were asking another staff member about what it means to be Presbyterian. They asked all sorts of questions. Eventually, one of them asked, "So. . . what's predestination?"

I have to admit that I laughed out loud. "How's he gonna answer that one?" I thought.

Predestination has been a part of the Reformed faith tradition, and at times, it's been interpreted to say this: "God has chosen some for salvation and others for damnation. There's nothing anyone can do about it. It's all God's choice. Case closed. End of story. That's the way it is."

But this person decided to answer the question in a way I've never forgotten. He said, "Predestination means that God has pledged to be God toward us. And we are the people we are in light of that pledge." To bring his point home, he mentioned his daughter. "You know, there may be a day when she decides to not act like my daughter. She may never talk to me or care if I exist. But I've made a pledge to her, and here's what I say to that: 'I'm not gonna let you not be my daughter!

I think that's beautiful. "I'm not gonna let you not be my daughter." That's what God does to us. God has elected and pledged to be God toward us. We can act like that's not true, but in a myriad of ways, God is always saying, "I'm not gonna let you not be my son! I'm not gonna let you not be my daughter! You can’t nullify my love. Where you go, I will go. Where you live, I will live. You will be my people, and I will be your God. Where you die, I will suffer alongside you. And I will raise you up. Not even death can come between us!"

Well, here's an idea. If God lives this way toward us, could it be that we are called to live in such a way toward others?

"I'm not gonna let you not be my sister!"

"I'm not gonna let you not be my brother!"

"I'm not gonna let you be an outcast, because I'm gonna include you!"

"I'm not gonna let you believe lies about yourself, because I know who you are: A Child of God. And I'm gonna tell you and live toward you like that's true!"

Isn’t that an amazing message? Isn’t that an amazing way to live?

We’re gathered here this morning for many reasons. Among them, we're celebrating Young Adult Ministry in our congregation today. This church has a unique intergenerational and multi-cultural context that provides a beautiful place to care for students and younger people. And we do that for the purpose of believing in them, for the purpose of knowing them and nurturing them to be the ministers they are, ministers who lead and serve us in our lives together. Sitting among us today, are students and young professionals who deeply belong to God. In love, God has pledged to be God to them. They will testify that to you. And you have the opportunity to pledge yourselves to them. You are surrogate Mothers, Fathers, Sisters, and Brothers. You have the opportunity to say this to them: You are God’s beloved child. And in light of that, I will treat you as my own Beloved. So help me God! I will be who I am with and for you. We have that opportunity today. We have that opportunity every day. How will Young Adult Ministry become your ministry?

What an amazing privilege it is to live as the pledged people of God! God help us to be who we are called to be. Amen.

-Renee Roederer, Director of Young Adult Ministries

and the Community at Pasadena Presbyterian Church