Old Mother Hubbard

"Old Mother Hubbard"
Ruth 1:1-22


Old Mother Hubbard

Went to the cupboard,

To give the poor dog a bone:

When she came there,

The cupboard was bare,

And so the poor dog had none.


The story of Ruth is an endearing one.  This story also has great historical significance, because Ruth will become King David’s great grandmother.  The story is not only about Ruth.  It also as to do, just as much, with her mother-in-law, Naomi.

Now when talking about mothers-in-law, one must be very careful.  The position and status of the mother-in-law rises and falls depending on who you are talking to.  For example, there was the wife who said to her husband when he came home from work “Such an odd thing happened today.  The clock fell off the mantle.  If it had fallen one minute sooner, it would have hit poor mother on the head.”
To which the husband replied, “I’ve always said that clock was slow.”

Most couples have a healthy, if not odd, sense of respect for mothers-in-law.  Although after watching a couple of episodes on that TV show, “Monsters In Law,” I don’t know.  That’s kind of a terrifying show.  I like to think I can pretty much get along with anyone, but after seeing a couple of those mothers-in-law, I’m not so sure.

There was once one long-suffering guy.  He always wanted to go to Africa and go on a safari.  He kept trying to talk his wife into going on his dream trip.  She kept balking.  Finally, she said, “I’ll go; but only if mother can come along, too.”  The man wasn’t too sure about that arrangement.  Finally he relented, wanting to go on a safari so bad.  The mother-in-law could come along.

One morning, the couple woke up in their tent, and discovered “mother,” was missing.  They look every where around the encampment for her.  Finally, in frantic alarm, they found mother standing in a clearing, staring eye-to-eye with a lion.  “John,” the wife screamed in a whisper.  “What shall we do?”
After some thought, the husband replied, “Well, it looks to me like the lion got himself into this fix.  Let him get himself out of it.”

Which is kind of the dilemma faced by Naomi.  Though she wasn’t facing a lion, she was nonetheless, staring down a lion-sized problem.  We must first understand her situation as if we were people sharing her same cultural setting, time period, and religious background.

Naomi was a pleasant woman.  We know that from her name.  Names were give to people to fit their disposition.  Her name meant “sweetness.”  In other words, Naomi was a sweetheart.

Because of a famine, Naomi and her husband, Elimelech, and their two sons, packed up and moved to Moab, where there was promise of food.  Though they finally had enough to eat, a different tragedy struck this little family.  Elimelech died.  And then, a short time later, the two sons died.  That left Naomi with her two daughters-in-law, both of which were Moabite, non-Jews.  It’s interesting that the names of the two sons of Naomi mean “weakness,” and “come to an end.”  They seem to have been ill-fated from their birth.

The lion that Naomi faced was a result of those three deaths.  She wanted to go back to her home town of Bethlehem, but it wouldn’t be easy going for her.  She wouldn’t be welcomed back with open arms.  She faced deep social and religious stigma.  The reason was at least two-fold.

First, she faced being powerless in a culture that gave much more honor and value to a married woman than a single woman.  In our culture, even though single adults make up the largest number of households, singles are still looked at a bit sideways.  Why aren’t they married? is the spoken and unspoken question.  Singles are looked at as if they aren’t quite whole.

In Naomi’s culture, some provisions were made for a widow.  The brother of her deceased husband was to marry her and care for her as one of his wives.  But Naomi had no such chance since her husband had no brothers.  Naomi would be returning to her home town where her friends would look down their nose at her because she had no husband from whom she could draw her honor and respect.  In Naomi’s place and time, a woman trying to make a go of it on her own was extremely dishonorable.

Secondly, Naomi faced being helpless in a culture where the only Social Security system was your children.  When parents reached old age, and were no longer able to provide for themselves, their children took them in and provided for their needs.  That’s why Jewish mothers push for their sons success.  If their sons are not successful, these mothers know they won’t be taken care of very well in their old age.

Three Jewish mothers are sitting on a bench in Central Park talking about how much their sons love them. Sadie says "You know the Chagall painting hanging in my living room? My son, Arnold, bought that for me for my 75th birthday. What a good boy he is and how much he loves his mother."
Minnie says,"You call that love? You know the Mercedes I just got for Mother's Day? That's from my son Bernie. What a doll."
Hilda says "That's nothing. You know my son Stanley? He's in analysis with a psychiatrist.  Five sessions a week, $500 a pop.  And what does he talk about the whole time? Me."

But Naomi had no room to brag.  Naomi’s boys were not only unsuccessful, they were dead.  She was getting old.  She had no one to look after her security and well-being.  It was a fearful position to be in for a single, elderly, family-less woman.  Her future was one huge question mark.  Worse than that, it probably seemed to Naomi, facing her lion-sized problem, she had nothing to do but sit and wait for the inevitable.

Naomi was an Old Mother Hubbard with nothing in her cupboard.  There were no prospects for getting her cupboard filled, or getting a bone for any dog she might have had.  Thus, Naomi changed her name to Marah, which means “bitterness.”  As Marah, she felt she now had a name that better described her new situation and character.

In spite of all that, Naomi’s, now Marah, homeland offered her the most she might ever expect to get out of life.  Her late husband owned a small piece of land there, and its value was enough to draw her home.  But moving back to Bethlehem offered little, if anything to the daughters-in-law, Orpah and Ruth.  Naomi was a realist in that respect.

Her sons had married foreign wives.  The Jewish morality was clear.  The negative cultural pressures exerted would be immense concerning intermarriage.  Not only was life going to be hard for the widow Naomi; bringing home foreign daughters-in-law was not going to help matters.

So Naomi, even though she appreciated their devotion, demanded they be realistic about what lay ahead.  She spelled out the absurdity of their continuing on this journey with her.  Like every normal woman of those times, the daughters-in-law must desire the esteem, satisfaction, and security that accompanied marriage and children.  Were they really willing to sacrifice all that to live with an aging widow among strange people?

Naomi’s words made sense of Orpah.  Despite her attachment to the old woman, she kissed her mother-in-law goodbye and headed back to Moab to start a brand new chapter in her life.  It is interesting that Orpah’s name means, “back of the neck,” or, “stiff-necked.”  She is literally showing the back of her neck to Naomi as she turned to go home.  Orpah is not condemned for her decision.  She is an example of common sense in the face of tragedy.

But as such, Orpah served even more effectively to contrast Ruth’s greater character.  Ruth stepped beyond common sense.  Ruth ventured beyond human horizons or human affirmations of what is correct or safe.  She exemplifies the spirit of Abraham, who made a similar leap of faith.  She moved out of the security of the familiar and into the frontiers of God’s beckoning.  Just as Abraham’s courageous faith turned the tragic, plummeting course of human history upward, so Ruth’s unselfish commitment to Naomi breaks the gloom of the story thus far.  Ruth introduces a glimmer of hope.

All who would hear this story in the future would quickly realize that such selfless, generous persons are the ones who become the instruments of God’s immeasurable good.  Naomi’s cupboard is about to be filled.

The story begins to turn, then, not on what little Naomi has to offer Ruth, but on what Ruth, by what she is willing to give up, has to offer Naomi.  The two women become lashed together on the mast of a storm-wracked ship.  They hold on to each other.  Naomi must have looked at Ruth with a wry smile, saying no more to discourage her from going to Bethlehem. Naomi’s silence was her permission.

G.K. Chesterton once said that people would often not be born but for the courage of their mothers.  In the case of Ruth, it wasn’t her birth, but her rebirth.  It was her chance at a new life, with new people.  It was through the courage of her mother-in-law that this hope was lodged.  A hope now set in motion for labor and delivery.

Naomi represents all those people who have willingly given place to those who have no place.  She is all the people who have flown in the face of culture at large, making a place for the disinherited.  Even though her resources were on the negative side of the ledger, Naomi represents the courage to buck societal systems, and open her life to outsiders.

With the death of her son, Naomi really had no legal relationship to Ruth anymore.  Ruth wasn’t family; Naomi didn’t have to bother with her.  She could have left Ruth to fend for herself.  No one in Bethlehem would have slighted her for it.

Naomi takes a chance.  Ruth takes that chance with her.  If we have our God-eyes open, what a beautiful chance it is.  It’s the chance we take when we say Yes to Christ:  “Wherever you go, I will go; wherever you live, I will live.  Your people will be my people, and your God will be my God--not even death itself is going to come between us” (vs. 16-17).  In Christ we are leaving a people and culture behind, for the hope of a new start, a new people, a new life.

What our world so desperately needs are Naomi’s for people who are looking for a way to live anew, like Ruth.  We need people of faithful hospitality; people who may look at their meager resources, their empty cupboards and still realize what they have to offer best is themselves.

The world is full of Ruth’s: people of energy, faith, commitment, and a pioneer spirit, but feel they don’t have anyone to tie on with, to be mentored by, or given a place.  What a great vision for a congregation--to be a place and a people who bring the Naomi’s and Ruth’s together, who despite limited resources, find a Godly compulsion to keep moving forward, together, anyway.