Hope and Hospitalityਨਮੂਨਾ

A Leftovers Meal

Ruth and her mother-in-law, Naomi, arrive in Bethlehem on the backfoot, socially and economically, and with heavy hearts: Ruth has lost her husband; Naomi has lost both her sons. Ruth has decided to stay with Naomi, though she isn’t obliged to do so, and now she’s foraging for food, picking up leftover grain in a field. The field is owned by Boaz, who notices Ruth and discovers she’s kind, selfless, and a hard worker. He invites her to keep on gleaning in his field, instructing his employees not to harm her and to leave behind some extra wheat stalks for her. He even invites her to eat with him.

In the book of Leviticus, following instructions about worship, there are instructions about justice and hospitality. Farmers were told not to reap to the edges of their fields or pick up dropped produce. This was so that enough would be left behind for poor people and foreigners to glean. Not all farmworkers were happy about poor people helping themselves to the fruits of their labour. Young girls were particularly vulnerable, and Ruth, a foreigner and migrant, was more vulnerable than most. The actions of both Ruth (bravely searching for food) and Boaz (graciously allowing her to do so) display their trust in God.

The practice of gleaning is a fascinating solution to food poverty. It’s less like charity and more like hospitality, framed by three important principles:

Dignity: God knew how important it was for the marginalised to retain a sense of agency. Gleaning facilitated working to source their own food – as opposed to just accepting handouts.

Proximity: The proximity that came with gleaning in the fields was supposed to help establish relationship, so the poor wouldn’t be isolated from society but integrated into society. It may feel easier for us just to give money to a charity rather than building relationship with a person, but hospitality is a powerful way of moving us closer to people and including them in our communities.

Empathy: For the Israelites, interacting with the marginalised was supposed to remind them of their dark history as former slaves. The memories would’ve evoked empathy towards those forced to glean.

I saw the principles of dignity, proximity, and empathy at work in Lebanon’s refugee camps. It was the Christians there who led the way in welcoming Muslim refugees of Syria. They spent time with them, day in, day out, for years. They were not just donating some old clothes they were going to throw out anyway, liking a Facebook post, or changing their profile to show solidarity. They didn’t introduce me to a project or a campaign – they took me to meet the people they knew by name. They helped me hear the stories and connect with their humanity.

When the odds seem impossibly stacked against us, we can take courage from the story of Ruth and Naomi. Faithful people showing hospitality and justice to those on the margins of society can change the world. Ruth’s story teaches us that hospitality crosses the boundaries of nationality and negativity, prejudice and poverty, tragedy and trauma. Let’s determine to be like Boaz, recognising the humanity at the heart of individual stories of real tragedy, because this is key to a truly transformative movement of social justice. Consider what you may have to offer someone in need of justice – like time to spend with them, a spare bedroom, or a space at your table. May we be a people who invest in the futures of those often overlooked.