Tied with sackcloth strips, the ears of wheat on the pew ends at Marton in the Forest appear timeless. A small token of thanks for a harvest safely gathered. In the rich land of North Yorkshire, where fields now bare the dark earth of recent ploughing, there is an atmosphere of plenty. No doubt there have been difficult years, and times when the crop has been reduced, but seldom will it have failed completely. It is a lush landscape through which countless streams murmur contentedly. Nevertheless, there has been change. In place of homes occupied by agricultural workers the villages have been gentrified with people in high-end professions, many no doubt enjoying home working in the post-lockdown world. Even in modest Marton there is an ‘Old Vicarage’, from a time when even the smallest community boasted (or endured) a parson.

Lack of food has led to human migration as long as humanity has existed. The Bible is full of such episodes and, in the Book of Ruth, it is famine that leads Naomi to go into the land of Moab with her husband Elimelech and their two sons. It could not have been an easy decision. Many commentators describe the relationship of the people of Israel and the people of Moab as one of ‘hatred’. Nevertheless, the family not only survive but the sons marry two of the Moabite women. Again, probably not something done lightly, but perhaps a small sign of the possibility of better relations emerging between the two peoples. Sadly, Elimelech and their sons perish and Naomi, and her two daughters-in-law are alone.

In an era when links to male family members was so important for security and subsistence this all-female household appeared to be untenable. Naomi decided that they must split up, each returning to their wider families. For Naomi this required a journey to Bethlehem while for the daughters-in-law it meant staying in Moab. One accepts this option; but not Ruth. Ruth comes to realise that if she wishes to remain loyal to her husband and in-laws it will require a decisive change of belief. We have no idea from the book how differences in religious faith were handled within the marriage itself but, at this point, Ruth gives voice the profundity of her decision:

““Do not press me to leave you,
            to turn back from following you!
Where you go, I will go;
    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”.

Book of Ruth, Chapter 1 . 16-17

Remarkably, when the pair arrive back in Jerusalem, Naomi appears to overlook this astonishing daughter-in-law. Naomi announces that she has come back ‘with nothing’ and changes her name to Mara, meaning bitter. Accepting that they are at the bottom of the economic order, gleaning becomes the only way for them to both survive and secure a future. Gleaning was an activity for both gaining food and also for initiating relationships. The women might choose which group of young men to follow in their reaping and, as food was shared, so courtship began. Carefully, Ruth chooses to follow the older and wealthier Boaz rather than to fraternise with the younger reapers. Eventually this leads to marriage with Boaz and the birth of a son, something the women of Bethlehem assure Naomi will be: ‘a restorer of life and a nourisher of your old age’. These same women then tell Naomi, who came back ’empty’, that Ruth ‘is more to you than seven sons’. In the patriarchal society of the time this is an astonishing testimony.

Yesterday I conducted the wedding of two young people. At the end of a week filled with so much horror, hatred and destruction, it felt like the lighting of one small candle in the midst of darkness. Weddings feature a number of times in the teachings of Jesus, and they serve as an image for the Kingdom of Heaven. They bring together communities, recall the past, and chart a path to the future. They are often occasions to cement links between families and for everyone to pledge their support to the couple. However, for marriages like the one at Cana in Galilee to take place, a degree of peace, prosperity and security is required. These circumstances should never be taken for granted. As we see now, in both Gaza and Israel, there are planned marriages which will never take place – either one or both of the people have been killed. In several other contexts, the places and resources to hold a family wedding no longer exist. The threads of what make up a functioning society have been severed. Instead of a harvest there are only ashes; where joy could have been shared, there is only silence.

We have been here before, far too often, but now the weapons and technology enable hatred to do ever more damage. The ordinary things that make up civil society cannot be taken for granted. Destruction is quick and definitive – the creation of healthy communities takes much, much longer. At the moment it is hard to know how peace will return and flourish in so many places in our world. How the celebration of marriages and relationships of commitment will resume and contribute to societies of care and compassion. The first step on that journey must be the ending of hostilities, especially when innocent people become part of the collateral damage of a conflict in which they want no part. Endless violence, modelling violence to a new generation, is in the interests of nobody.