Bible: The Story of Ruth

The book of Ruth contains an interesting story about a Moabite woman who was redeemed into a Hebrew family. The book may have been written by Samuel and was probably penned during the time of David.

 

A Dreadful Time in a Strange Country

Because of a famine in Israel, a Hebrew family moved to Moab. This was a country not far from Israel on the east side of the Dead Sea. The family was from the city of Bethlehem-judah in Israel. Elimelech and his wife Naomi had two sons, Mahlon and Chilion. Each of them married a wife from Moab. In time Elimelech and his two sons died which left the three widows in Moab.

 

A new beginning

After her husband’s death, Naomi planned to return to Bethlehem-judah to be with family. She prepared to leave her two daughters-in-law. However, they begged to be able to go with her. She said that she had no more children and even if she were to marry again and bear sons that the two daughters would not be able to wait for them to grow up. She planned to return to Israel alone and empty.

 

True love and selfless giving

One of the daughters-in-law, Orpah, returned to her people in Moab. The other daughter-in-law, Ruth, said that she would stay with Naomi. It was during this conversation that Ruth said these words which have become the basis for many Christian wedding vows: “Intreat me not to leave thee, or to return from following after thee: for whither thou goest, I will go; and where thou lodgest, I will lodge: thy people shall be my people, and thy God my God: Where thou diest, will I die, and there will I be buried: the Lord do so to me, and more also, if ought but death part thee and me.”

Ruth and Naomi returned to Bethlehem-judah together. Naomi was financially and emotionally despondent, but her family and friends accepted her with joy.

As they had no money and no men to take care of them, Ruth went into the fields to gather whatever grain she could. One land owner, Boaz, noticed Ruth and asked his workers to be kind to her and leave plenty of grain for her and her mother-in-law. He did not know at the time who Ruth was, but out of kindness he chose to care for the new stranger in their land.

Ruth returned to Naomi and told her about the generous landowner. Naomi asked about the man and was pleased to learn that it was Boaz. Boaz was a near family member of Elimelech, her late husband. This meant that Boaz had the opportunity to take Naomi and Ruth into his care as well as free them from their financial debt.

 

A husband for Ruth

Naomi instructed Ruth on how to ask for Boaz’s help in the matter. She approached Boaz and asked him to become the kinsman-redeemer for them. Before Boaz could accept  the care of these two ladies he had to negotiate with another kinsman for the privilege. This other man was closer to Elimelech and therefore had the responsibility to care for the ladies. This man chose not to exercise his duty for their care which left Boaz with the opportunity to buy them out of their debt and take Ruth as his wife.

Boaz and Ruth were married became the great-grandparents of King David.  

Ali Baba and the Forty Thieves

Ali Baba and his elder brother Cassim are the sons of a merchant.

  After the death of their father, the greedy Cassim marries a wealthy woman and becomes well-to-do, building on their father's business—but Ali Baba marries a poor woman and settles into the trade of a woodcutter.

One day Ali Baba is at work collecting and cutting firewood in the forest, and he happens to overhear a group of forty thieves visiting their treasure store. The treasure is in a cave, the mouth of which is sealed by magic. It opens on the words "iftah ya simsim" (commonly written as "Open Sesame" in English), and seals itself on the words "Close, Simsim" ("Close Sesame"). When the thieves are gone, Ali Baba enters the cave himself, and takes some of the treasure home.

  Ali Baba and his wife borrow his sister-in-law's scales to weigh this new wealth of gold coins. Unbeknownst to them, she puts a blob of wax in the scales to find out what Ali Baba is using them for, as she is curious to know what kind of grain her impoverished brother-in-law needs to measure. To her shock, she finds a gold coin sticking to the scales and tells her husband, Ali Baba's rich and greedy brother, Cassim. Under pressure from his brother, Ali Baba is forced to reveal the secret of the cave. Cassim goes to the cave and enters with the magic words, but in his greed and excitement over the treasures, he forgets the magic words to get back out again. The thieves find him there, and kill him. When his brother does not come back, Ali Baba goes to the cave to look for him, and finds the body, quartered and with each piece displayed just inside the entrance of the cave as a warning to anyone else who might try to enter.

  Ali Baba brings the body home, where he entrusts Morgiana, a clever slave-girl in Cassim's household, with the task of making others believe that Cassim has died a natural death. First, Morgiana purchases medicines from an apothecary, telling him that Cassim is gravely ill. Then, she finds an old tailor known as Baba Mustafa whom she pays, blindfolds, and leads to Cassim's house. There, overnight, the tailor stitches the pieces of Cassim's body back together, so that no one will be suspicious. Ali Baba and his family are able to give Cassim a proper burial without anyone asking awkward questions.

The thieves, finding the body gone, realize that yet another person must know their secret, and set out to track him down. One of the thieves goes down to the town and comes across Baba Mustafa, who mentions that he has just sewn a dead man's body back together. Realizing that the dead man must have been the thieves' victim, the thief asks Baba Mustafa to lead the way to the house where the deed was performed. The Tailor is blindfolded again, and in this state he is able to retrace his steps and find the house. The thief marks the door with a symbol. The plan is for the other thieves to come back that night and kill everyone in the house. However, the thief has been seen by Morgiana and she, loyal to her master, foils his plan by marking all the houses in the neighborhood with a similar marking. When the forty thieves return that night, they cannot identify the correct house and their leader in a furious rage, kills the unsuccessful thief. The next day, another thief revisits Baba Mustafa and tries again, only this time, a chunk is chipped out of the stone step at Ali Baba's front door. Again Morgiana foils the plan by making similar chips in all the other doorsteps. The second thief is killed for his failure as well. At last, the leader of the thieves goes and looks for himself. This time, he memorizes every detail he can of the exterior of Ali Baba's house.

The chief of the thieves pretends to be an oil merchant in need of Ali Baba's hospitality, bringing with him mules loaded with thirty-eight oil jars, one filled with oil, the other thirty-seven hiding the other remaining thieves. Once Ali Baba is asleep, the thieves plan to kill him. Again, Morgiana discovers and foils the plan, killing the thirty-seven thieves in their oil jars by pouring boiling oil on them. When their leader comes to rouse his men, he discovers that they are all dead, and escapes. The next morning Morgiana tells Ali Baba about the thieves in the jars, they bury them and Ali Baba shows his gratitude by giving Morgiana her freedom.

To exact revenge, after some time the Chief of thieves establishes himself as a merchant, befriends Ali Baba's son (who is now in charge of the late Cassim's business), and is invited to dinner at Ali Baba's house. However the thief is recognized by Morgiana, who performs a dance with a dagger for the diners and plunges it into his heart when he is off his guard. Ali Baba is at first angry with Morgiana, but when he finds out the thief tried to kill him, he is extremely grateful and rewards Morgiana by marrying her to his son. Ali Baba is then left as the only one knowing the secret of the treasure in the cave and how to access it. Thus, the story ends happily for everyone except Cassim and the forty thieves. 

The Anatomy of a Filipino by Prof. Felix Bautista

All:  I like to think that I am a Filipino, that I am as Good, a Filipino as anyone.

Girls: My heart thrills, when, I Hear, the National anthem, being played.

Boys:  And my Blood Rises, when, I see our flag, Fluttering in the breeze.

All:  And Yet, I find myself asking, How Filipino Am I, Really?

Boys:  My First Name is American.

Girls:  My Last Name Is Chinese.

Boys:  When I am with Girlfriends or more correctly, when, I am with my Friends, who happen to be girls- I talk to them in English.

Girls:  If they are thirsty, I buy them, a Bottle of American coke.

Boys:  If they are hungry, I treat them, to an Italian Pizza pie.

All:  And when I have the money, I give them a real Chinese Lauriat.

Boy (solo):  Considering all these, considering my taste, for many things foreign, what right do I have, to call myself, a Filipino?

Girls (solo):  Should I not call myself, a culture orphan? The illegitimate child of many races?

All:  Rightly or wrongly, whether we like it or not, we are the end products of our history. Fortunately or unfortunately, our history is a co-mingling, of polyglot influences.

Boys:  Malayan and Chinese.

Girls:  Spanish and British.

Boys:  American and Japanese.

All:  This is historic fact we cannot ignore, a cultural reality we cannot escape, for to believe otherwise is to indulge in fantasy.

Boy (solo):  I must confess, I am an extremely confused, and Bewildered young man. Wherever I am, whatever I may be doing, I am Bombarded, on all sides, by people who want, me to search for my national identity.

All:  Tell me the Language I speak should be replaced by Filipino. They urge me to do away with things foreign to act and think, and buy Filipino.

Girl (solo):  Even in art, I am getting bothered and Bewildered.

All:  The Writer should use Filipino, as his medium, the nationalists cry.

Boys:  The Painter should use his genius in portraying themes purely Filipino, they demand.

Girls:  The Composer should exploit endless Possibilities of the haunting kundiman, they insist.

All:  All these sound wonderful. But Rizal used Spanish, when he wrote, Noli and Fili.

Boys:  Was he less of a nationalist, because of it? Must the artist, to be truly Filipino, paint with the juice of the duhat?

Girls:  And must he draw picture of topless Muslim women or Igorot warriors in G-String

All:  And if the composer deserts the kundiman, and he writes song faithful to the spirit of the Youths of today, does he become unFilipino? We are what we are today, because of our history.

Boys:  In our veins pulses blood with traces of Chinese and Spanish and American, but It does not stop being Filipino, because of these.

 Girls:  Our culture is tinged with foreign influences, but it has become rich thereby.

All:  This mingling, in fact, could speed us on the road, to national greatness.  Look at America, it is a great country, and yet it is the melting pot of Italian, and German, British, and French, or Irish and Swedish.

Boy (solo):  Filipinism, after all, is in the heart.

All:  If that heart beats faster, because the Philippines is making progress, if it fills with compassion because its people are suffering, then it belongs to a true Filipino; and it throbs with pride in our past, if it pulses with awareness of the present, if it beats  with a faith in the future, then we could ask for nothing more; all other things are unimportant.

Boys:  I have an American First Name.

Girls:  And I have, a Chinese Last Name.

All:  And I am proud, very, very proud, - because underneath these names beats a Filipino heart.

A Love Letter

Dear Ana,

          I wrote to let you know how much you mean to me. Yesterday I saw you walking and laughing with your friends and I hope that soon you’d want me to walk along with you, too. I love you so I painted you a sunset to close your day; likewise, I whispered a cool breeze to refresh you. I waited but you never called. However, I just kept on loving you.

          Last night, I saw tears trickling down you cheeks. I knew you were hurt and unhappy; consequently, I wanted so much to comfort you. Unfortunately, you didn’t think of Me nor ask for My help. To ease your pain, I spilled moonlight onto your face and made the stars burn their brightest, but you were so filled with self-pity, you didn’t even notice.

          This morning, I exploded a brilliant sunrise into glorious morning to cheer you up. But you woke up late and rushed off to school unaware of it. My sky became cloudy and My tears were the rain.

          I Love you, I truly and really care. I try to essay the intensity of My love not only in the silence of the green meadows but also in the splendor of the blue sky. The wind whispers My concern throughout the treetops; in addition, I spill it into the vibrant colors of all flowers. I shout My love to you in the thunder of the great waterfalls; furthermore, I compose love songs for the birds to sing to you. I warm you with the clothing of My sunshine and I perfume the air with Nature’s sweet scent. My love for you is deeper than any ocean and it is greater than any need in your heart. If you’d only realize how much I love and care.

          My Father sends His love. I want you to meet Him – He cares, too. So, please call on Me soon. No matter how long it takes, I’ll wait because I love you.

                                                                                                                                                                                                     Most sincerely,

                                                                                                                                                                                                      Jesus

      

Vision by Feraya

A country of great beauty
People so gentle and kind

There is also ugliness
And cruelty
Fleeing and hiding
And foraging for food
To survive

Our people are in pain
Suffering like no hell on earth
Darkness and despair
Surround them

And freedom is out of reach

Beaten and battered by life
Death and diseases
Of the mind and spirit

Swallowed up by gloominess
And bitterness
How can they carry on?

Each of us has a role to play

To help our countrymen
Not by hatred and blame
Not by giving false hope
Or ideas
Or concepts

But to see the big vision

A vision that’s not small or limited
A vision that’s vast and spacious

So that Burma’s people may rise up

Like a beautiful lotus
From a muddy pond.

Sijos

        Tree of Unhappiness

   Kim Sang – yong (1592 – 1637)

   (Translated by Graeme Wilson)

On broad leaves of pau-low-nia

The one and only tree

Whereon the phoenix will set foot

The rain falls heartlessly.

The rain’s sad tapping overhead

Compounds my weight of grief.

Who now could have the heart to plant

Trees of so broad a leaf?

               Pomegranates

         Sin Hum (1566 – 1628)

    (Translated by Graeme Wilson)

It rained last night, the pomegranates

Red and oranges

Have all burst into flower.

 

Not to be comfort,

I sit in this cool pavilion

Set in a lotus lake

And under its glass-bead curtains wait

For my closed heart to break.

                   Girl in the Rain

             Anonymous (18th century)

         (Translated by Graeme Wilson)

Her violet cloak clutched round her head,

As quickly as she can

She runs through rain-fall to the pear bloomed

Village and a man.

What blandishments, I wonder,

What whispers, what untrue

But wonderful promises

Have soaked that silly through.

The Tale of the Woodcutter and the Tiger

  Korean folklore recalls the tale of a woodcutter who encounters a tiger in the woods.  Fearing that he would soon be the tiger’s dinner, he exclaimed:   “You must be my long lost brother!  Our mother cried for you when you left home.  She had dinner ready for you every night, waiting for your return.  Sadly, out mother has just passed away.  How happy she would have been had she known you are alive and well!”  The woodcutter took out his handkerchief and pretended to wipe at his eyes.  The tiger turned away, as tears fell down his cheeks, leaving the woodcutter unharmed.

Every year thereafter, on Chesa, the memorial day of the woodcutter’s mother’s death, an offering appeared on her grave -  sometimes a peasant, or even his mother’s favorite mountain berries.  The woodcutter did not know where these offerings came from.

    One year, the woodcutter noticed that the customary offering had not been placed on his mother’s grave, and he wondered what had happened. Out from the bush, three baby tigers appeared, carrying offerings.  They approached the woodcutter and cried: “You must be our uncle!  Mother tiger is gone now, and we know how important it is for her to honor grandmother by bringing an offering to her Chesa table beside her grave.  We are here to bring offerings for our grandmother in loving memory of our mother.” The woodcutter noticed that his face had turned suddenly warm and realized that it was his own tears streaming down his cheeks.