Where You Go I Will Go: Toward an Integrative Perspective on Same-Sex Sexuality (VI)

In the early days of the debate about same-sex sexuality, back when it was only the “liberal Christians” who were asking whether it was permissible, you would sometimes come across arguments in favor of LGBTQ inclusion based on the Book of Ruth. These would point out Ruth’s undying devotion to Naomi and suggest that here we have a positive instance of a same-sex relationship in the Bible, one that bears all the marks of a covenant union, but is presented entirely without censure. It’s not for nothing, perhaps, that we still use Ruth’s vow to Naomi in modern-day wedding ceremonies: “Where you go, I will go … your people will be my people, and your God my God.”

Of course, the fact that Naomi herself was previously a married woman, that she is, actually, Ruth’s mother-in-law, and that she works so tirelessly to marry Ruth off—all this suggests that interpreting her relationship with Ruth as anything other than a beautuful but platonic friendship is a profound misread of the story (it’s no accident that Ruth’s name actually means “friend.”). The story gives no hint that there’s anything sexual between Ruth and her mother-in-law, and we’d only see something there if we had decided to find it before we'd started reading.

That said, I believe that among all the books of the biblical cannon, the Ruth makes one of the strongest cases in favor of the integrative approach to same-sex marriage and LGBTQ+ identities that I’ve been arguing for in this series. There is a relationship in the story that leaves me convinced that something like embracing LGBTQ people, as LGBTQ people (and not as “broken straight people” who just need changing or controlling), might not be so contrary to the heart of God as we think. It’s just not the relationship between Ruth and Naomi.

It's the relationship between Ruth and Boaz.

I say this because, as the story takes great pains to point out, Ruth is a Moabitess, a woman from Moab, that is, sojourning in Israel under the protection of Naomi, her Israelite mother-in-law. If this detail does not scandalize us as modern readers, it is probably because we are not so thoroughly steeped in the teachings of Torah as Naomi and her community would have been.

Deuteronomy 23:3-6 clearly prohibits any Moabite from entering the assembly of the Lord, and it strongly implies that its off-limits for any Israelite to marry one, making Boaz’s relationship with Ruth a truly illicit affair. Certainly none of their children (among whom are Jesse, King David, and ultimately Jesus) would be permitted among the assembly of God’s people, and if there’s any doubt about the matter, Deuteronomy 23:6 strictly forbids Israel from making a treaty of friendship with Moab, let alone marrying one into the community.

Deuteronomy bases this prohibition explicitly on the fact that back in Numbers 22:1-6, Moab hired Balaam to curse Israel while they were wandering in the wilderness. Deuteronomy also seems to have Numbers 25:1-18 in the background, which relates the story about a time some Israelite men “indulged in sexual immorality with some Moabite women.” This resulted in idolatry so heinous that a priest named Phinehas slaughtered them all in righteous indignation (an act for which the text praises him warmly). Granted it’s a grim story, but the point is clear: Moabite women mean spiritual trouble, and anyone who gets involved with them risks committing an abomination before the Lord.

And yet the Book of Ruth not only celebrates Boaz’s marriage to Ruth, but seemingly holds it up as an example of fidelity and covenant faithfulness in the time of the Judges, when everyone else was doing what they saw fit in their own eyes.

To understand the dissonance here, it’s important to note another key teaching from Torah that has clearly informed the telling of Ruth's story, namely: the call to treat the foreigner in Israel with kindness and hospitality. Torah is, in fact, shot through with injunctions of this sort, reminding Israel over and over again that the Lord God defends the cause of the foreigner (i.e. the sojourner, the alien in the land), and consequently, so too must Israel. (Deut 10:17-19, Lev 19:10, etc.). Leviticus 19:34 puts it succinctly: “The stranger who dwells with you,” it says,” shall be to you as the home-born among you, and you shall love him as you love yourself.”

While the significance of the moment may be lost on modern readers, in Ruth 2:2 we find Naomi and Ruth living destitute in Bethlehem, powerless and penniless, when Ruth decides to go out to the fields to pick up any grain that may have been left behind by the harvesters. This, of course, leads to the first, poignant meeting between Ruth and Boaz, but in terms of the logic of the story, it’s not just some generic romance we’re seeing play out here. It's covenant faithfulness. In Deuteronomy 24:19-21, Israel is directed to leave some grain behind when they’re harvesting their field, so that the foreigner, who has no share in the land, can go out and gather it and so not starve (see also Leviticus 19:10, 23:22, etc.).

You may see where I’m going with this and want to head me off at the pass, by pointing out that Torah only required Boaz to make sure Ruth was taken care of as a foreigner; there’s nothing saying he has to marry her. The Book of Ruth, however, won’t let us off the hook that easily. Towards the end of the story, we find ourselves bogged down in a complicated discussion of Boaz’s legal obligations toward Naomi’s family, all of which centre around a concept called the “kinsman redeemer.” This is another detail that may be lost on modern readers but is a crucial key for unlocking the story. Because the role of the “kinsman redeemer” is also carefully laid-out in Torah. Deuteronomy 25:5 stipulates that if an Israelite man dies childless, his brother (or, presumably, his nearest next-of-kin) must marry her and fulfill the “duty of a brother-in-law” to her. Ruth was previously married to Mahlon, an Israelite man, and Boaz is, apparently, a distant relative, the next in line as Ruth’s kinsman redeemer after Mahlon’s nearest relative (the unnamed man in 4:6) declines to marry her. By marrying Ruth, then, Boaz is technically fulfilling his obligations as specified in Torah.

All of this is to say that Boaz marrying this particular Moabite woman is both a breach of Torah, on the one hand, and also an act of deep faithfulness to Torah, on the other.

I would be shocked to discover that all of this was accidental. In fact, after many years reflecting on this story, I have become convinced that one of the things it is doing is seeking to answer this crucial question: what do we do when the commands of Torah seem to be in conflict with one another, when you would have to break one of them in order to keep another, and/or vice versa?

What does covenant faithfulness look like in such circumstances, where you need to break the law in order to fulfill it?

To my mind, the Book of Ruth offers us one of the most poignant and tender answers you will find in the Hebrew Bible to this specific question. Embrace always trumps exclusion, it seems to be saying. At least, if it comes down to a choice between the two, it does. Inclusion trumps rejection; and above all else, the path that leads to the most compassionate outcome for the most vulnerable is always closest to the heart of God, the God who insisted that the one who loves his neighbour has fulfilled the Law (Rom 13:8-10).

So far in this series, I have been laying the foundation stones for what I have been calling an “integrative approach” towards same-sex sexuality. An integrative approach takes, on the one hand, the Word of God at its word (believing, for instance, that when God told the Israelites to have no relations with the Moabites, he meant it, just as much as he meant it when he told Israel to take care of the widows and the foreigners in their midst). But an integrative view also takes, on the other hand, our lived experience in a world that does not always fit neatly into the clear categories of Scripture (acknowledging, for example, that sometimes taking care of the widow and the foreigner might mean marrying a Moabitess). And then it attempts to integrate these two realities, seeking a wise way forward that honors them both.

What might this mean when it comes to the question of same-sex sexuality? In coming posts I hope to get specific, but to give you a hint, I think it means something like this: honoring, blessing, and even celebrating the same-sex marriages LGBTQ identities, even while we hold to our convictions about the what the Bible teaches when it comes to sex. If this seems like an impossible goal, I would refer you one last time to Boaz’s illicit marriage to Ruth, and its reminder that, if it comes down to an either/or, embrace is usually better than exclusion, and the most compassionate way forward is always the right way.

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