Redemption in Ruth: Lot and Judah

In the opening verses of Ruth, we are introduced to a tragic family. When a famine strikes the land, a Judahite named Elimelech takes his wife and two sons and moves to the pagan nation of Moab, where his sons are quickly married off to Moabite women. Over the next few years, Elimelech and his two sons die, leaving the three women all alone.

We’re only five verses into the chapter and we’ve got a dead parent and two dead sons living in the wrong place. The question is, have we read this story before?

Lot and the Moabites

By Genesis 13, God had exceedingly abundantly blessed Abram. In fact, Abram and his people had prospered so much that the land could hardly support Abram’s—and his nephew Lot’s— herds. As a result, Lot made the choice to leave his uncle and strike off on his own. His destination? The beautiful city of Sodom.

That’s right. Rather than give up a few of his earthly possessions and stick with one of the only godly men on the planet, Lot decided to relocate his family to a city so wicked that God would soon be forced to wipe it off the map in a few short years.

Those few short years pass and soon enough, Lot and his family are evacuated as fire rains down from heaven upon Sodom. During the evacuation, Lot’s wife, along with his two sons-in-law, foolishly choose to disobey God’s instructions and end up getting themselves killed. Widowed Lot takes his two widowed daughters and escapes to the mountains, essentially giving up on human civilization and the continuation of their family.

Lot’s daughters begin to worry about the legacy of their father. Without husbands, they would be unable to produce children and thus Lot’s family would end with them—a shameful thing in the ancient world. So the girls come up with a plan:

Come, let us make our father drink wine, and we will lie with him, that we may preserve the lineage of our father.” (Genesis 19:32)

Their plan is to get their dad black-out drunk, rape him, and birth incestual children—all to protect Lot’s family legacy. The firstborn of these two children was named Moab, and he became the father of the Moabite people.

Notice the elements of this Moabite origin story:

  1. A disobedient family in the wrong place at the wrong time
  2. A dead parent and two dead sons
  3. A concern about the continued lineage of the patriarch
  4. Sexual sin as a means to fix the problem

All of this might sound familiar. But before returning to Ruth, can you think of any other stories that follow this pattern?

Judah and Tamar

After reading about the early life and betrayal of Joseph, the narrative pauses to tell us a story about Judah. After selling his brother into slavery, we are told that “Judah departed from his brothers” and from the land God had given his family to dwell with the Canaanites (Genesis 38:1). Judah marries a local woman and has three sons—Er, Onan, and Shelah.

Er marries a woman named Tamar, but before they have any children Er’s wicked lifestyle catches up with him and he dies childless. As was the custom of the day, another male from the deceased’s family—usually a brother—would marry the widow and produce children to preserve the lineage of the deceased. Judah follows this custom and has his second son Onan marry Tamar. However, Onan follows in his brother’s wickedness and soon dies, again without any children. Finally, we are told that Judah’s wife died as well.

According to the law, Judah should have then arranged a marriage between his son Shelah and Tamar. However, fearing that Shelah will stray into wickedness and die as well, Judah refuses.

So just as Lot’s daughters before her, Tamar takes matters into her own hands. She takes off her mourning clothes and puts on—well, she puts on a lot less. She dresses herself like a prostitute and stands on the corner outside Judah’s place, hoping to lure him into bed.

And as you would expect of a sinful and lonely man, the plan works perfectly. Soon enough, Tamar is pregnant with twin babies—all to protect Judah’s family legacy. The firstborn of these two children was named Perez, and he became the primary line of the Judahite people.

Take note of the parallels between this story and that of the Moabites:

  1. A disobedient family in the wrong place at the wrong time
  2. A dead parent and two dead sons
  3. A concern about the continued lineage of the patriarch
  4. Sexual sin as a means to fix the problem

Now with all this context in mind, let’s return to the story of Ruth.

Ruth and Boaz

The narrative begins with the first two elements we saw in the stories of Lot and Judah: (1) a disobedient family who moved to the wrong place; and (2) a dead parent and two dead sons. Following the pattern, we should expect a woman to tempt a man into sexual sin in order to continue the patriarch’s lineage. But instead, something happens that changes the trajectory of the whole story.

Ruth chooses to return to Judah.

But Ruth said:

“Entreat me not to leave you,

Or to turn back from following after you;

For wherever you go, I will go;

And wherever you lodge, I will lodge;

Your people shall be my people,

And your God, my God.” (Ruth 1:16)

Rather than remain in a pagan country, marry a pagan man, and serve pagan gods, Ruth goes back to the place where Yahweh was visiting His people (Ruth 1:6). She embraces a new people, a new land, and a new God.

Once in the land of Judah, Ruth ends up working the fields of Boaz, a close relative of her father-in-law Elimelech. From Passover to Pentecost, she returns daily to Boaz’s land, hoping to win his affection—along with a marriage proposal. However, after fifty days he still hasn’t made his move.

So Ruth takes matters into her own hands.

She takes a steamy bath and shaves her legs. She puts on makeup and perfume. She throws on her hottest dress. And in the middle of the night, she heads over to Boaz’s place.

Based on the pattern of Lot and Judah, this is where we’d expect Ruth to entice Boaz into some sort of sexual sin to close the deal. But instead, Ruth finds Boaz (passed out drunk, no less)—and sits quietly at the foot of his bed. After a few hours he wakes up and sees a shadowy figure by his bed. She immediately tells him, “Take me under your wing, for you are my family redeemer” (Ruth 3:9).

She calls him to action, but she wants things done by the books.

The next morning, Boaz heads into town and completes all the paperwork. Soon after he and Ruth are married.

Family Redemption

Hundreds of years earlier, two families committed terrible sins that created problems for generations. The Moabites were born out of rape and incest; the Judahites were born from prostitution. And in the story of Ruth, everything was in place for those same sins to be repeated.

But instead, a Moabite woman decided to turn from her family’s sins and follow the true God. A Judahite man decided to turn from his family’s sins and obey God’s commandments. In the union of Ruth and Boaz, both Jew and Gentile redeemed their ancestor’s shame.

It’s no wonder God chose these two redeemers to be the patriarch and matriarch of a new family—the family of King David, which would culminate 32 generations later in Jesus the Messiah.

The Kinsman Avenger

If you’ve ever heard a sermon on the book of Ruth, you’ve probably heard about the “kinsman-redeemer.” As described in Leviticus 25, if a married man dies without children, his brother is told to marry the widow and bear children with her on behalf of the deceased brother, continuing his brother’s name and ensuring he essentially has life after death through his children.

The brother who performs this noble deed is called the “redeemer” (ga’al in Hebrew), and the most famous redeemer of this sort is Boaz. Boaz—described as a “man of great valor” (Ruth 2:1)—faithfully fulfills this role, revering, romancing, and redeeming the widow Ruth. Through their subsequent marriage, both Ruth and Boaz were faithful to God’s Word and Ruth’s first husband, and they ended up becoming the great-grandparents of King David and the ancestors of the ultimate Redeemer, Jesus.

But the ga’al has several other obligations that don’t get nearly as much attention. For instance, another responsibility of a redeemer is to buy family members out of slavery (Leviticus 25). But the one I’d like to focus on is described three times in the Law—the role of the avenger of blood.

If a man is killed by another, a relative of the deceased is tasked to become the avenger of blood—he is commanded to track the manslayer down and ensure that justice is served. The avenger brings the charges before the elders of a city of refuge, who in turn judge whether the manslayer is “deserving of death” (Deuteronomy 19:6). If the manslayer is found guilty, the avenger executes judgment on the criminal; if the manslayer is found responsible but nonetheless not guilty of murder, the avenger makes sure that justice is still served by forcing the manslayer into exile until the High Priest dies. (A more detailed description of this law is found in Numbers 35, Deuteronomy 19, and Joshua 20).

Now all of these jobs—the redeemer who guarantees his brother has some sort of life after death; the relative who liberates his kinsman out of slavery; the avenger who carries out justice—are one in the same. They are all the responsibilities of the ga’al. And throughout the Hebrew Scriptures, this title is almost exclusively used of God—especially in the prophets, where God promises that He will become the Redeemer of His people.

For those of us in need of liberation from sin and in need of resurrection from spiritual death, the idea of God as our ga’al—our Redeemer—is fantastic news. But the Redeemer doesn’t just bring freedom and life after death—He also executes judgment on those deserving of death. He is not only a Redeemer—He is an Avenger as well.

This isn’t great news for us, for—in the words of Paul—we have all sinned (Romans 3:23), and the wages of our sin is death (Romans 6:23). We are guilty. We are deserving of death, and not even a life in exile or the death of the High Priest will change that.

So what happens when the person who needs redemption and liberation is also guilty of sin and deserving of death? How does the Kinsman-Redeemer, the Blood-Avenger, fulfill both sides of the law?

Surprisingly, this exact question is asked and answered in 2 Samuel 14, midway through the reign of King David. A wise widow from Tekoa comes to the king with a problem: she had two sons, but they got into a fight and one brother killed the other. If they execute the murderous brother, no one will remain to redeem the family name and guarantee the deceased brother (or his father) has a life and legacy after death. But if they allow the murderer to live, they have failed to carry out justice.

In this parable (and it is a parable, as you find out later in the chapter), the murderous brother is a stand-in for every one of us. It ushers us back to the second sin ever committed, when Cain killed his brother Abel (Genesis 4); it reminds us of the sin Esau tried to carry out against his brother Jacob (Genesis 28); it calls to mind the attempted murder of Joseph by his jealous brothers (Genesis 37); and it represents you and me, who are guilty of sin and deserving of death, but nonetheless desperately need of salvation from our Redeemer.

So what was the king’s decree?

David declared that the guilty son would live—“not one hair of your son shall fall to the ground” (v. 10)—and if anyone disagreed, he would personally take care of it—“if anyone says anything to you, bring him to me” (v. 11). The wise widow prophetically responds, “God does not take away a life; but He devises means, so that His banished ones are not expelled from Him” (v. 14). She adds that in all this, “the king and his throne [will] be guiltless” (v. 9), and that the king is like the Messenger of Yahweh in that he brings comfort by “discerning good and evil” (v. 17) and “knows everything that is in the earth” (v. 20).

In short, the king promises that God will personally find a way for the murderous son (and his entire family) to be redeemed, without neglecting the just requirement of the Law. The guilty ones need not be expelled from Him.

And while this is an interesting story about David and a wise widow… what does this have to do with us? Well, there’s another interesting thing about this chapter. From the time David is introduced in 1 Samuel 16 until his death in 1 Kings 2, David is mentioned by name in every single chapter—41 chapters in all—except for a single outlier. 2 Samuel 14. For some reason, David is never mentioned by name in 2 Samuel 14. Instead, he is referred to as Adonai (meaning “Lord”) thirteen times and King an astounding forty times.

In a chapter that compares David to the Messenger of Yahweh (a title typically associated with the Messiah), where the King is said to be “guiltless” and to “know everything,” where the subject is the redemption of those “deserving of death,” and where we are told that God will devise a plan so that all of us sinful mortals are not expelled from His presence, we are told that every decree and judgment is coming from the throne of “Adonai the King.”

So… what is the LORD’s plan? How is justice executed if the guilty ones are redeemed and escape death?

Judgment is supposed to come upon those “deserving of death” (Deuteronomy 19:6). That phrase (mishpat mavet, “judged worthy of death”) is incredibly rare in the Hebrew Scriptures, but it surprisingly appears just a few chapters later, in Deuteronomy 21:

If a man has committed a sin deserving of death, and he is put to death, and you hang him from a tree… he who is hanged is accursed of God.” (Deut. 21:22-23)

Over a thousand years later, this verse was quoted by the Apostle Paul, in reference to Jesus Christ:

Christ has redeemed us from the curse of the law, having become a curse for us—for it is written, ‘Cursed is everyone who hangs on a tree.’” (Galatians 3:13)

For us to be redeemed, someone had to be cursed. For all of us deserving of death to be made free, someone had to pay the price for our sin. And so Jesus our Adonai, the Messenger of Yahweh who knows all things, the King who sits upon the guiltless throne, devised a plan. Our Lord and King personally saw to it that we would outlive death. The Son of David guaranteed that we’d never be banished from His kingdom. Even if it meant taking our curse upon Himself, being hung from a tree and executed in our place.

Jesus Christ. Our Redeemer. Our Liberator. Our Avenger.

I will ransom them from the power of the grave;
I will redeem them from death (mavet). (Hosea 13:14)

O Adonai, You have pleaded the case for my soul;
You have redeemed my life. (Lamentations 3:58)

Who Can Find a Virtuous Woman?

In Proverbs 31, Solomon famously asked, “Who can find a virtuous woman?” When you flip through the pages of the Scriptures, you’ll discover that only one Eshet Chayil—virtuous woman, woman of valor—is to be found: Ruth, the great-great-grandmother of Solomon.

There are many qualities we could try to attach to Ruth to figure out why she is lauded as a woman of valor. She was courageous, faithful, generous, and wise; she feared the LORD and raised her children and grandchildren to fear Him as well; she obeyed God, even when it was inconvenient, and found a way to bring God’s Word to pass in her family, even when the cards were stacked against her.

But Solomon didn’t ask, “What makes a woman virtuous?” He asked, “Who can find a virtuous woman?” And the answer, at least in this case, is Solomon’s great-great-grandfather: Boaz. Boaz found his virtuous woman, redeemed her, married her, and loved her.

And how does the Bible describe Boaz? At the very first mention of Boaz in the Scriptures, he is described as a “Ish Gibor Chayil”: a man of mighty valor, an incredibly virtuous man. Read through the story of Boaz and Ruth and you’ll find that he, too, was courageous, faithful, generous and wise. He, too, feared the LORD and taught His family to do so as well. And He obeyed God, even when it was inconvenient, and found a way to bring God’s Word to pass in his family.

So, who can find a woman of valor? The primary answer the Bible gives us is, “A man of mighty valor.”