The Journey Home

“It is a difficult and dangerous journey,” said Naomi. “It took us a week with the boys, when I was ten years younger. Take only what is necessary for the trip. You will need a cloak, for once the sun goes down, and we will need several skins of water along with raisins and cheese. There is safety in numbers, so we will travel with the group leaving after the Sabbath.”

“I heard that a distant cousin of Naamah was beaten nearly to death along the road,” said Orpah.

“That is why we will travel with others as much as possible and stay on the well-known routes that take us north and around the Dead Sea. There will be dangers, three women on their own, but God will be with us.”

Sunday morning the three widows joined the group. As they travelled north and west, blisters started on their feet. They stopped to wrap them and to refill the skins, which emptied too quickly. At night they grouped together on the hard ground to sleep.

Rested, the trek began the next morning, and again the next. It was getting hotter as they moved into lower lands. Naomi knew the Dead Sea wasn’t far now with its rough terrain, and the Jordan River just beyond. She considered her two young companions. What kind of life would they find in Israel, a foreign land, away from their families? The Israelite men wouldn’t choose Moabite women for wives. The risk was too much to ask. One group would turn back. Now would be the time to release them.

Eventually, they stopped to rest. Naomi spoke to them.

“Both of you, go back to your mother. I pray the Lord will deal kindly with you just as you have dealt kindly with your husbands and me.”

“Are you not our family?” asked Orpah. “Shall we lose you too?”

“Surely, we will return with you to be with your people, and they will be our family,” said Ruth.

Naomi said, “No, you girls need to go home to your mother. Why would you come with me? I can’t give you a husband. I am too old to have a husband who would give me babies to grow into husbands as the law commands. Besides, could you wait that long? This is more bitter for me than for you that God’s hand has gone against me.”

Again, the two women leaned into Naomi and wept. The group returning to Moab was starting out. Orpah kissed Naomi again and ran to catch up with the group, but Ruth clung to Naomi.

“Now look, Orpah has left to go back to your people and your gods; you go with her.”

 “Don’t ask me to leave you,” said Ruth, “or to turn back from following you, for where you go, I will go, and where you lodge, I will lodge. Your people shall be my people, and your God my God. Where you die, I will die, and there will I be buried. The Lord do so to me, and more also, if anything but death parts me from you.”

Naomi said, no more. Initially, the land was flat but hot. Naomi knew the Wadi Qelt. It was a deep gorge with a stream, and there would be some shade on the way. Elimelech had been so cautious coming through it because of robbers and ensured they were in a group. This time, though not in a group, they stayed close to people. The road continued, and then they crossed the Jordan River. Finally, they arrived in Jericho. The sweat had dried and re-dried on their skin; their mouths were dry, and dust coated everything. But here there was water, and they stayed to refresh themselves and trade for supplies for the rest of the journey.

“This will be the hardest part,” said Naomi to Ruth as they started out the next morning. “Not only is it a rough climb, but we are taking on a strenuous life within the tribes of Israel. We will start all over with nothing. I left here full of promise. Now my hopes and dreams, like this skin of water, have dried up.”

They travelled on alone, knowing they wouldn’t get to Bethlehem in one day.

Once they reached the Judean Wilderness, it was all uphill, a steady and steep climb. The land was barren, rocky, and desolate. They had to walk slowly to avoid tripping or turning an ankle. The higher they climbed the cooler it got. At first, it felt refreshing, and then with the sun gone they wrapped their cloaks about them and huddled beneath a group of boulders to sleep.

Ruth startled at the sound of men talking and froze. All the stories she had heard haunted her thoughts. Were they bandits? She pulled her cloak tighter around her, curled up to be less visible, and cried out to the God of Israel. For what seemed hours, she lay quiet and motionless. And then the voices faded, and she felt free to breathe once more.

The next morning, stiff and sore, before the heat of the sun, they started out. “We should arrive today,” Naomi said.

Bit by bit, the ragged terrain softened. In the distance, they saw terraced hillsides with olive groves and little villages. Even the air felt cooler. Then, as the sun hit noon, Naomi stopped to rest. Pointing ahead, she said, “See there, the town on that ridge? That is Bethlehem, and we are almost there!”

The news got around. Naomi had returned. As they rushed to greet her, calling “Naomi,” overwhelmed in her grief, she said. “Don’t call me Naomi, call me Mara (bitter) for the Almighty has dealt bitterly with me. I left full, but the Lord has brought me back home empty. Why call me Naomi when the Lord has testified against me and the Almighty has afflicted me?”