Of bad beginnings and happy endings

The story of Ruth and Naomi too easily rushes to the 'all's well that ends well' stage. And yet, what to do with the beginning of the story because by the time we reach the end of the first five verses, we're left with the remnants of a family that has suffered catastrophic losses? Having escaped from famine in their homeland, the family move to, hopefully, greener pastures. Conditions have clearly been dire for several years, given that the names of Elimelech and Naomi's sons are Mahlon and Chillion - meaning 'sickness' and 'wasting'.
Within ten years of having settled in Moab, Elimelech and the sons have died, leaving behind three widows - Naomi, and her two daughters-in-law. Having heard the famine in her homeland has passed, Naomi decides to return.
All of that, in just five verses.

We know, from later in the text that Naomi's daughters-in-law are given the choice to make new lives for themselves without the ties of obligation - to return back to their own families and start again. One chooses home, the other, to travel with Naomi. And, on the matter of their treatment by scholars down the centuries, poor Orpah is given quite the harsh treatment by both Rabbinic and Christian scholars (see the following excellent essay 'The defamation of Orpah' by Dr.Barry Dov Walfish). Given the writer of the story passes no judgement on her, and, given Orpah doesn't immediately leave, and when she does, it is with tears - demonstrating a hard decision, to condemn Orpah is simply unfair. But I digress - perhaps Orpah is a reflection in waiting!

Back to the temptation to read Ruth through a 'quick, let's get to the happy ending' lens...
my attempt, below, to put in some balance to address the accentuate the positive view (yeah, just call me 'Debbie downer'!).

Would I?

Would I do it again, knowing all that I know now?

So long since hunger rumbled in my belly.

Was it worth it – the wrench of leaving home

as the cost of living took its toll?

We walked into the unknown,

my man and I,

the boys dawdling behind

with their cries of

‘are we nearly there yet?’

and ‘I need to pee!’

and their stumbling sleepwalking

towards a different promised land.

Would I do it again?

There seemed no other choice;

starve, or leave.

It was as stark as that.

And having walked, we settled,

strangers in a strange land.

And there was food

and my man found work

and the boys set about 

the business of growing into men –

when staying behind meant only

sickness and wasting. (1)

Would I do it?

Even now, that familiar stab of pain;

that hollow place where love once lived,

the sting of salt in eyes.

We managed, 

but a widow’s life is made bitter (2)

by the platitudes 

and hurried awkwardness of grief.

We, who had already moved,

moved on with our lives

and the boys found wives

and the promise of life once more.

Would I?

Even when everything good and pleasant (3)

had dried up like sweat in the summer sun?

Broken. 

A wife without her man, 

a mother without her chicks.

The voice of home called weary bones to go, 

walk back where they belonged.

Releasing the girls from their obligations,

one left; I wished her well.

The other stayed, compassionate friend. (4)

Together, we walked from famine to a fruitful harvest.
    Nik Mac c. June 2023

(1) Naomi’s sons were Mahlon and Chilion, their names meaning ‘sickness’ and ‘wasting’. Apt, perhaps, if they’d been born in a time of famine.

(2) When Naomi returned to Bethlehem, she told those greeting her to call her ‘Mara’, which means ‘bitter’.

(3) The name ‘Naomi’ means ‘good’, ‘pleasant’, ‘lovely’.

(4) Ruth’s name translates as ‘friend’ or ‘compassionate friend’.