Nominating Boaz

by David Markay.

Now, in the category of Actor in a Supporting Role, the academy nominates…. Boaz. Lacking the requisite screen time to be considered the Lead, nor enough lines to qualify for an Actors’ Equity card, Boaz’ role is, nonetheless, pivotal to the overall plot of our story.

In their recent study of The Book of Ruth, Pádraig Ó Tuama and Glenn Jordan interpret the ancient narrative against a modern backdrop of populism and polarization. They focus upon Ruth’s courage in the face of long-held stereotypes and deeply-rooted prejudices. With its emphasis upon chesed (often translated as ‘lovingkindness’), the Book of Ruth “challenges us on who we consider kin and how an outsider becomes one of us”.[1]

Ruth occupies centre-stage for most of the story. Boaz enters stage-right, across a field, part-way through an unfolding drama. His imperfect, yet crucial role prompts my new-found admiration. I may be partial to this character because I once knew someone by his name. My family had neighbours whom I only knew as Mr. and Mrs. Boaz. They lived at an intersection of two roads, their home positioned along our primary school boundary lines between friends and rivals. My recollection of Mr. Boaz is of a man with a reserved smile, a well-waxed car, and a somewhat quirky demeanor.

Biblical Mr. Boaz enters the scene, sees Ruth, and asks the question, “To whom does this woman belong?” And with that Jewish man’s encounter with Ruth the Moabite, a border is crossed. He becomes an understated hero, spotlighted only momentarily.  He is a bit like a member of the congregation who does not have a title or an official position, but sits at the heart of the community.

Boaz is, first, the person who notices. He straddles the furrows in the earth, observes the person of little consequence, and treats her with dignity. While identified and shaped by his own community, he is able to engage with the foreigner. I think I saw Mr. Boaz in action during one congregation’s recent creation of a warm hub. The long-time Christian — well-versed in Scripture, Tradition, Experience and Reason — also knew non-church people in the neighbourhood well enough to forge an unusual partnership. Thanks to her, people once isolated in their own groupings are coming to know one another as neighbours.

Boaz of Bethlehem also shows a bilingual dexterity of language and tone. At one moment he is capable of tenderness towards the outsider. In the next he confronts his own community’s lack of hospitality, “persuading the residents of Bethlehem to extend the full protection of the law to this outsider”.[2]

Bridge-builders often have a dual role: venturing alone into the territory of ‘the other,’ while speaking bluntly behind closed doors with their own constituents. Frank conversations at the kitchen table amongst kin are as crucial as the dialogue across divides. As recent reflections on the Good Friday Agreement have highlighted, in order for deep transformation to happen, hostiles often need the persuasion and pioneering of someone they trust.

Was that Mr. Boaz who appeared during a recent congregation-wide discussion about same-sex marriage? He was, on account of his background and beliefs, opposed to the idea, and for that reason would not help or attend such a service should it occur at his church. But, he added (in a quirky and neighbourly kind of way), he would not stand in the way of it happening. The atmosphere in the room eased.

The Bible often uses brief appearances of minor characters to teach us something about a life of faith. Reflecting on the power of such stories, Richard Lischer notes that “The Letter to the Hebrews is famous for its thumbnail stories of faithful believers. The stories are not conceived as history but as small vessels of encouragement to readers to complete their own stories…”.[3] Beside the Abrahams and Sarahs, the Jacobs and Josephs, the Rahabs and Ruths, there is a place for those farther down the cast of characters.

Therefore, for his minor role in a major narrative, his inspiring performance in our epic as the people of God, and the way his story encourages our own story as followers of Jesus, I nominate Mr. Boaz.


[1] Pádraig Ó Tuama and Glenn Jordan, Borders & Belonging; The Book of Ruth: A Story for our Times, Canterbury Press, 2021, p. 78.

[2] Ó Tuama and Jordan, p. 69.

[3] Richard Lischer, Our Hearts Are Restless; The Art of Spiritual Memoir, Oxford University Press, 2023, p. 361.

One thought on “Nominating Boaz”

  1. It’s so important to celebrate people like Boaz/Mr Boaz for the enlightenment they bring. We had the Ruth reading at our wedding. I am married to someone who doesn’t
    follow my faith, but he insisted we marry in church because it was and is meaningful to me. My parents and minister welcomed him fully and never ‘othered’ him. I like to think that this, in its own small way, spoke to the heart of the gospel.

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