Ruth Rewritten: It Was Never About Romance, It Was About Redemption

 

What’s “obvious” is hardly ever fully accurate. The surface tends to serve as an indicator, but it typically lacks depth and exposition. It’s dangerous to surmise and conclude based on what’s visible without further investigation. And so it is with reading Scripture. You hardly ever grasp the essence of the text with casual reading and superficial scanning. This cursory approach to Bible reading yields shallow insights masked as substantial revelation.

As a single woman in the church, I’ve heard no shortage of sermons aimed at encouraging, preparing, or positioning women who hope to be married. And one of the most frequently used texts in the single woman’s toolbox is the book of Ruth. Ruth shows up in countless conferences and women’s gatherings, often framed as a guide for how to be found, noticed, or chosen. I’ve heard it preached this way: if Ruth stayed busy gleaning in the field, Boaz would eventually appear. If she positioned herself correctly, the blessing would come.

For some, that message resonates. But it also narrows the story in ways the text never intended. Ruth is not a dating manual, and Boaz is not a reward for proper behavior. When we reduce this story to singleness and marriage, we miss its deeper theological spirit. Ruth is not about waiting to be chosen; it is about God’s commitment to redeem, preserve, and restore vulnerable and displaced people. This story invites us to look beyond romance and toward redemption, where God is at work long before anyone (including you and me) is “found”.

The book of Ruth opens subtlely but weighty, with a family and a famine. Scarcity pushes this family to migrate from Bethlehem to Moab in search of survival. And yes, let’s pause there, because the facts are fascinating: Bethlehem, whose name means “house of bread,” is empty, and an Israelite family finds refuge in a foreign land. Whether God sends them or simply allows it, the irony isn’t lost, given the current American state of affairs. I digress…

Not long after arriving, Elimelech, Naomi’s husband and the father of Mahlon and Chilion, dies. Loss enters the story early and stays close. The two sons later marry Moabite women, Orpah and Ruth, and for a moment, it seems life might stabilize. But that hope is short-lived. Both sons die without leaving children behind, and Naomi finds herself in an unthinkable position: widowed, childless, and responsible for two widowed daughters-in-law. By the end of this opening chapter, Ruth is not yet a love story or a redemption arc. It is history chronicled through a mosaic of displacement, grief, and survival, all the while setting the stage for a God who often does His deepest work in the margins.

In antiquity, being a widow was equivalent to being homeless in a 21st-century American context. Naomi heads back to Bethlehem as she has heard the famine is over. She implores Orpah and Ruth to return to their mother’s house – she encourages them to return to a place that could potentially prepare them to be found by a new [husband] family. Orpah returns to Moab, but Ruth stays with Naomi and vows to travel and remain with her. I’ll insert this thought here; it’s easy to read religious devotion into this segment of the narrative. It’s assumptive to conclude that Ruth knew that Naomi’s God was who she wanted to serve, and she chose to remain with Naomi out of devotion to Yahweh. But that’s not the case. Moab was polytheistic, and Ruth was accustomed to worshiping multiple gods. She had no affinity or devotion to one god, but she did love Naomi, and their familial connection influenced her to follow Naomi back to Bethlehem.

Chapter 2 introduces Boaz, who is a relative of Elimelech. He’s wealthy and influential, and this is demonstrated by his owning land with fields of grain. He is revealed to be a redeemer of their family/tribe. Redeemers were tasked with restoring the rights of an impoverished relative by paying for their freedom. Redemption could be accomplished through repurchasing property, releasing an Israelite who sold him/herself into slavery, or avenging the death of a kinsman. Ruth’s desire to glean in Boaz’s field is because she’s poor with no social or economic status, and she understands Boaz’s position as a redeemer for Naomi. Additionally, the laws of Israel required land owners not to strip their fields bare, but to leave some of their harvest for the poor (Leviticus 19:10 and Deuteronomy 24:19).

Boaz rewards Ruth for her commitment and sacrifice to Naomi by giving her harvesting privileges beyond what is standard. And Naomi advises her to cleanse and anoint herself. I think Naomi advises Ruth through the lens of her positionality as a widow. She encourages Ruth (and Orpah) to return to their mother’s house to potentially be prepared to be wedded again. And she tells Ruth at the beginning of chapter 3 about seeking rest for her. I’m assuming she wants to shield Ruth from experiencing the calamity she’s currently facing. As a result, Ruth’s actions at the threshing floor are directly correlated to the guidance she received from Naomi.

When the time comes for the redemption of Naomi’s land, Boaz locates the kinsman who is closer in relation to Elimelech. Initially, the kinsman agrees to redeem the land, but upon learning the redemption will include Ruth, he declines and offers his right to Boaz. Boaz accepts, marries Ruth, and they have a son, Obed, who eventually fathers Jesse, the father of King David.

Upon inspection of the book of Ruth, what is most salient is the ethic of redemption woven into the fabric of the narrative. Two constant reminders of her loss are personified in her daughters-in-law, and she is navigating a new normal that she never intended or planned for. I would imagine that while she navigates her own grief, she is simultaneously trying to help Orpah and Ruth handle their loss. And her presence in Ruth’s life is so poignant that Ruth vows never leave her. Naomi experiences tragedy after tragedy, and the catastrophic grief causes her to attempt to change her name [to Mara] to reflect her perception of how the Lord feels about her. I won’t judge Naomi’s feelings because I’ve experienced seasons where my circumstances were louder than the truth. Sorrow and disappointment can be deceptive and mar our perspective. There’s no scripture to confirm that her fellow townspeople called her Mara, and I’d like to believe they acknowledged her frustration without complying with the lie that Yahweh “dealt bitterly with her”.

Boaz offers Ruth protection and provision that go far beyond the minimum requirements of his role as a kinsman-redeemer. Technically, his obligation was limited to redeeming Naomi’s land so she would not be left economically vulnerable, living in poverty. Yet Boaz chooses generosity over obligation. His care for Ruth, a Moabite woman with no legal claim to his kindness, comes at personal cost and social risk. That choice matters in this narrative.

And I think this is where the book of Ruth quietly opens into something much larger. The story becomes a theological foreshadowing of Jesus and His redemptive work — a redemption that is not partial or transactional, but salvific and effective for all of creation. The unnamed kinsman who was closer in relation but unwilling to redeem Ruth can be read as a picture of the law: capable of identifying what is right, but unable or unwilling to restore what is broken at its own expense.

Naomi, then, can be seen as a representation of Israel — bitter, emptied, and uncertain whether God is still for her. Ruth becomes a personification of the Church: an outsider who clings in faith, steps into vulnerability, and is brought into the story not by bloodline but by covenant love. And Boaz stands as the embodiment of Christ, our true Kinsman Redeemer, who willingly pays the price, offers protection, and gives His life as a ransom, redeeming not just individuals, but the entire story.

EDIT: I also would be remiss if I didn’t lift the deliberate nature of redemption being extended to and facilitated through the bodies and lives of women. Women were (and continue to be) intentionally marginalized and systemically oppressed. And critics of Scripture are overrun with evidence that reinforces their suspicion of the legitimacy of the Christian tradition and the safety of women. It should be named and lifted; women were recipients and conduits. And chiefly, divinely cared for in a system that was designed to harm them.

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