By Shavuot Giving Back By Rory Katz

כי אל־אשר תלכי אלך ובאשר תליני אלין עמך עמי ואלהך אלהי׃(Ruth 1:16)
באשר תמותי אמות ושם אקבר כה יעשה יהוה לי וכה יסיף כי המות יפריד ביני ובינך׃ (Ruth 1:17)
For wherever you go, I will go; and where you rest, I will rest; your people, my people; and your God, my God. Wherever you die, I will die, and there I will be buried. May God do thus to me and more if anything but death separates me from you.
There is no logical reason that my life as an upper-middle class white American rabbinical student should have gotten intimately wrapped up with an impoverished indigenous family who lives about as far across the world as is possible. Nevertheless, since their livelihoods were destroyed by the earthquakes in Nepal last month, I have felt as though it happened to my own family.
The most recent time that I read the book of Ruth, I was struck by the incredible improbability of Ruth’s decision to tie her destiny to Naomi. Within the context of ancient Israel’s socioeconomic system, Naomi is the epitome of great powerlessness. In a society where a husband and sons are responsible for earning the money and resources necessary to live, she has lost both. There is no one left to provide for her. Having migrated from her home in Bethlehem years earlier, she is now in the foreign land of Moab, with no relatives besides her daughters-in-law, who, the opposite of a resource for her, are essentially an economic drain on her already dire financial situation. Over and over, our Torah teaches us to protect the rights of the poor, the widow, and the stranger because It recognizes that these categories describe the most vulnerable people in their society. Naomi is all three.
Given these conditions, Ruth’s decision to follow Naomi when she announces she is returning to her homeland seems almost unfathomable. Naomi has nothing of material to offer her. In agreeing to go Bethlehem, Ruth even gives up the little security she has of being in her own land with her own people. And for what?
Sometimes attachment is unexplainable like that. I don’t know why I should have gotten so attached to the Balami family, who reside in rural Nepal, when I had the chance to stay with them for a month during a cultural exchange trip in 2003. Over the years, though, we kept in touch--initially by sending letters, cards and photos back and forth, and then later on, through Facebook. Eventually, I returned as a study abroad student in 2007 and then simply as a visitor in 2012. Together, we've shared countless meals, celebrated Nepali holidays, and worked to rebuild the local schoolhouse. From them, I learned how to dance Nepali style, how to cook “daal bhaat tarkari” (Nepali rice and lentils), how to navigate Kathmandu's bus system, and how to plant rice in a rice paddy. Over the years, I truly felt adopted into their family.
There is a divine something that Ruth sees in Naomi beyond all identifying and identifiable features, and that is what she cleaves to. She reminds us that the way to move through a broken world is through solidarity, in its truest sense, with the people around us. From Ruth’s story, I am reminded to have faith in the strength of this improbable attachment and also to be faithful to it.
It is with this spirit in mind that I am currently raising funds for the Balamis in order to provide some emergency relief--food, clothing, bedding, and shelter--over the next month. To learn more about this effort, please visit my Indiegogo Life page

By Rebecca Suldan

Discussions of the Book of Ruth often focus on Ruth's decision to leave her family and home in Moab and to follow Naomi, her mother-in-law, back to Canaan. Years before, Naomi had come to Moab with her to escape famine. Yet her husband and her two sons die. Naomi, having tragically lost a partner and her children, tells her daughters-in-law to return to their own families so she can return to Canaan. Orpah, after a tearful embrace, listens. Ruth, however, clings to Naomi.
Ruth is often referred to as “the first convert.” Her words, “Amech ami v'elokayich elokai,” ( Ruth 1:16 ) arguably represent her acceptance of the Jewish people and its practices.
I can't help but wonder, though, to what extent her declaration constitutes conversion to a religion or nation, and to what extent it is an expression of unwavering loyalty and dedication to another individual. Ruth does not say she is particularly compelled by Naomi's ideological beliefs, or ritual practice, or national identity. In fact, Ruth probably knows little of Naomi’s “people,” given that she has been living in Moab. Yet Ruth commits herself to Naomi, regardless of what Naomi can offer in return in the way of a husband, children, or financial stability. And so to me, Ruth’s words read less like a statement of religious or national conversion and far more like the ultimate commitment of friendship, loyalty, love.
A community organizer might challenge this discrepancy—Indeed, organizing models rely heavily on individual stories and connections to motivate people to work for broader social change. And it's worth considering how much our connections to Judaism and the Jewish people stem largely from our deep personal commitments to families, friends, and communities. (I'm not necessarily arguing that's even a bad thing.) Yet on Shavuot this year, Ruth's declaration reminds me about the extraordinary power and promise of female friendship—an exemplary covenant in its own right.