I, Naomi This Is My Story

By Suneeti Lock

Meet Naomi, eminent townswoman and woman extraordinaire, as she reclines in her favorite cedarwood armchair in her lovely home in central Bethlehem. Hear her remarkable story as she tells of droughts, famines, wars, and disasters woven from the Old Testament (OT) history into her personal life and that of her generation. Revel in the rich landscape and culture of ancient, pre-monarchic though chaotic Israel as she lifts the curtain and unfolds her gripping account that weaves OT history, law, myth, and legend into a uniquely credible story. Very especially, listen to her message for the Levites of our day, though her appeal and legacy are both timeless and universal. To achieve this, Suneeti has used a unique device that she calls a "di-monologue" wherein the ancient Naomi converses with an invisible modern-day audience to recount her untold story and thus bridges the gap of some three millennia.

I, Naomi grew out of a Bible study on the book of Ruth conducted by the women's group in Suneeti's church. During one of the sessions, when Naomi was getting the short end of the stick, it dawned on Suneeti that Naomi's story had never been told. Thus grew this story of an obscure, shelved, almost forgotten woman but who was central not only to OT history but also the history of all mankind.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Christian Faith Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Nov 4, 2022
• ISBN: 9781685707392

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I, Naomi This Is My Story

Suneeti Lock

ISBN 978-1-68570-738-5 (paperback)

ISBN 978-1-68570-739-2 (digital)

Copyright © 2022 by Suneeti Lock

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods without the prior written permission of the publisher. For permission requests, solicit the publisher via the address below.

Christian Faith Publishing

832 Park Avenue

Meadville, PA 16335

www.christianfaithpublishing.com

All Scripture references are taken from the Holy Bible, New King James Version

Printed in the United States of America

Table of Contents

Prologue

Life in the Village

Of Wars Past

I Leave Home

In Bethlehem

Nadab

Coming Storm Clouds

That Terrible Famine

In a New Land

Weddings

Disaster Strikes Again

Hard Decisions

The Journey Back Begins

The Fork in the Road

The Homecoming

Fight for Survival

Boaz

Plottings and Plannings

The Threshing Floor

Another Wedding

A Mother in Israel

The Name That Never Was

My Song

Epilogue: Naomi's Enduring and Universal Legacy

Naomi's Enduring and Universal Legacy

About the Author

Dedicated to the memory of my Aunty Kay who brought me to the LORD. She partly resembles some aspects of my portrayal of Naomi, though Naomi is a ubiquitous and composite character.

I hope you can catch a glimpse of yourself in her portrayal.

Now it came to pass, in the days when the judges ruled, that there was a famine in the land. And a certain man of Bethlehem, Judah, went to dwell in the country of Moab, he and his wife and his two sons.

The name of the man was Elimelech, the name of his wife was Naomi, and the names of his two sons were Mahlon and Chilion. (Ruth 1:1–2)

Prologue

Hark there, sojourner! Greetings! I am Naomi of Bethlehem-Judah, from the land of Israel, calling out to you from across the ages and over the miles.

I must have caught you at an opportune moment as you seem to be rather absorbed in your reading. And what I can see from here as I stretch and strain my neck around, the scroll you're caught up in is alluding to me. That is remarkable indeed! But pause a moment, dear sojourner, for that scroll should be called a sequel or a prequel or whatever fancy name your generation calls it, for it is also my story.

Let me explain.

You see, that curious lad who used to hover around Baby Obed and listen wide-eyed to my stories all those years ago and who wrote that scroll or book or whatever you call that object that you're reading, I think that's how you folks got to hear Ruth's and mine and Baby—he isn't a baby anymore—Obed's, and Boaz's story, I think he might have omitted quite a few interesting and intimate details from his account.

So allow me, dear sojourner, to tell you the rest of that story and the story of my generation too.

It will be quite a journey, I'm sure, both for me and you as I tell you my life story after all this time from here in my little town in Bethlehem. But it might help you fill in the gaps as I try to reach out to you across the ages—how many centuries, I can't tell from where I'm seated under the shade of this leafy old oak tree in my rose and cypress garden here in central Bethlehem—and get a fuller, clearer picture of the entire story, I hope.

Despite my age—I'm in my sixty-fourth year now—my memory is still sharp, and I can vividly recall details from my middling years and even from my distant youth and childhood very clearly. It is the mercy and kindness of Yahweh Almighty, the Lord, our Maker, after all, to whom alone belongs all glory and praise.

Come then, let me take you back, dear sojourner—reader or listener, whoever you are and wherever you are—to those early and latter times of my life. Sometimes I shall plunge you directly into those events so that you may feel their impact with me, but ofttimes I shall use my memory to relive those far and near events.

So, sojourner, allow me, kindly then, to tell you my story…

1

Life in the Village

My darling mother, Ima , died when I was nearly sixteen. Ima, Zemira was her name, had a strange disease—a wasting disease, people said. She grew thinner by the year. We began to notice it when I was about thirteen. By the time she reached forty-one, she was gathered to her fathers, leaving my poor father, Abba , heartbroken. They had been married for nearly twenty-four years though he'd known her for most of her life. A part of him died with her, for he wasn't the same after her death. Despite all the herbal medicines and the various cures suggested by the local physicians and healers, all of which she faithfully took, Ima lost her brave battle with life long before she reached the full measure of her days of three score years and ten or, as you folks count it, her seventy years upon this earth.

Nadab, my older brother by six years, was never much attached to the family. I had another brother younger than Nadab who'd died a year before I was born. He was called Jephthah, and Ima and Abba told me of the terrible calamity that befell them when this rosy-faced toddler was struck down by a high fever one day and died so suddenly. His little body broke out into an awful rash, and there was nothing they could do to bring down his awful burning fever. Abba felt helpless, carrying his limp little form and seeing the life so suddenly ebb out of this vibrant, rosy, happy toddler, laughing one day, dead the next.

Their grief was unbearable, but it helped to know that some other little children around Jephthah's age too were suddenly struck down at the time. Most of them did not survive. Those who did became paralyzed or remained ill for the rest of their short lives. It was all very bewildering, they said. Thankfully, I was born about a year later, a happy, bubbly girl that they named Naomi, pleasant, lovely, after my father's mother, and they learned to look on life with gratitude to the Most High LORD, Yahweh El Elyon, for giving them another child in place of the one that they'd lost so early in life. For a number of years, on the anniversary of his death, both of them would go to his little tomb in the cemetery at the edge of the village and think of the life that wasn't.

Nadab, their firstborn, on the other hand, despised our village roots and agrarian lifestyle, hated sheep and sheep-rearing, though that was our livelihood and lifestyle, and was truly what people called a city boy, though the cities were very far away from us. Went off to the big cities in search of fame and fortune, and that's where he met Rebekah and her family who were frankincense and spice merchants, well established in the trade, though they'd branched off to other businesses too, so we heard. After darling Ima died, he walked out of the house for good, leaving Abba even further heartbroken and all of us in utter shock and dismay. However, he'd left home a few times for short spells even when Ima was sick, though he'd always returned. Even then, poor Abba had little strength or courage to reason or remonstrate with him or to persuade him not to leave his family home, inheritance, and calling. Nothing would convince him to stay, especially after Ima's death. So when he walked out of the house this time, it was for good.

You may be wondering why we reacted with such shock and dismay at Nadab's behavior. You see, our Law, which was given to our Prophet Moses, the leader of our people, by Yahweh Almighty after our forefathers left the land of Egypt, and which was a set of commandments and directions as to how we should live our lives, clearly instructs—no, commands—us to honor, respect, and obey our parents and our elders so that we'll live long, healthy, and prosperous lives on this earth. But it pains me to say that my brother wasn't doing that, and this left us confused and worried.

I was spellbound when he left this time.

How could Nadab do this?

Uncle Shaul, Uncle Benjamin, Uncle Nahoum, all had tried to reason with him before he left, but he was stubborn as a mule. Said he'd had enough of the village and all their backward rules and outlook. Whatever he meant by that, who knows? Even the poor uncles whom I thought were very wise folks—far smarter and younger than my simple old Abba—looked aghast. They couldn't believe they'd helped raise such a nephew as all three of them had had a hand in Nadab's upbringing as he was the oldest among us children and the apple of their eye when he was a chubby, bonny toddler. Of course, that seemed a very long time ago now.

Where did he get those fancy ideas from?

I can still picture them tugging and pulling at their black or graying beards musing among themselves or chewing the strips of grass as they tried to fathom my brother's strange ways while warming their hands over the winter fires as they took care of their sheep, goats, and cattle and asking themselves this perplexing question.

Hmmm…all those trips to their Ima's brother's house every year at Passover and all the festivals in Shiloh, mused one uncle.

No, no, chipped in another. It's all those trips to those big cities that Nem and Zemira took their family to. That must be it. Wonder if the air in those city bazaars and souks or those hills and tall buildings had gotten into his head after all and turned him against us, his family.

What did we ever do to earn such disrespect? asked all three troubled uncles looking at each other and at anyone else around them.

And I didn't have an answer. Even if I had one, they wouldn't have listened to me, a simple village lass who'd been to only three cities in her lifetime and didn't know Dan from Beersheba or Egypt from Assyria.

For that matter, do you?

So when Nadab returned home with the news that he had found this girl—Rebekah—in faraway Heshbon and wanted to marry her, that was another shock too. He wasn't asking for permission but demanding a blessing from his elders for whatever he wanted. That was adding insult to injury as none of us had even seen this girl. All we knew of her and her family was from Nadab's mouth, and most of us in our family had realized by now that Nadab could be quite a promoter to get his way. Anyway, much against the family's will as all the uncles opposed it, though Abba reluctantly gave his blessing just to keep a semblance of peace, Nadab and Rebekah got married, and he moved to her father's place in Heshbon across the Jordan River in the east. Years later, when I grew older, I realized that Abba was forced to give his half-hearted blessing, not for peace's sake as we know it—the peace of Yahweh Shalom who is the author of true peace—but because he was too tired and frail to fight my combative, demanding brother. I was too young to know it at that time. That understanding came to me much later.

Back to my story. Now, more than ever, I feel the need to stay and look after frail, feeble Abba and take care of him. He's still pining for darling Ima. Never really got over her wasting illness and all-too-soon death. I too miss her terribly as there are very few women companions of my age in this Anim village of ours. The aunts are around, but they are busy with their growing families and don't have too much time for a niece by law. And I feel the need for a friend my age now that my only two friends, Jerusha and Yemimah, have gone and gotten married too.

Will you believe it if I tell you that most of my cousins are male? What is it with my father's family that they produce mostly sons? Maybe it's good for them. Yes, yes, I know they need boys and men to help them with their fields and sheep and cattle and all that. Men and boys do much, if not all, of the hard work and toil that requires muscle and strength and the sweat of the brow. But we girls feel a bit lonely too, sometimes. Don't we? There are some daughters in the family, but they are very young—one is a babe in arms, the other is a toddler, and the oldest among them is six years old. And here I am, nearly eighteen years old, brimming with life, longing for some good, solid womanly friendships and companionship that I can rely on.

My only social connections, besides the weekly Sabbath gatherings, are my occasional visits with Abba or the uncles to Bethlehem market some miles away east of us, where we go to sell and barter our produce and wares from our sheep and cattle. Also our weekly or fortnightly visits to the local bazaar here in the center of the village where we barter our vegetables and produce during the spring, summer, and autumn months. This, of course, depends on how much vegetables we can grow and harvest, and also on the sheep and goats and what they produce, you know cheeses, wool, goatskin, and things like that. Before they got married, my two friends, Jeru and Yemi, and some of their menfolk used to accompany us to Bethlehem market if their families had some goods and wares to sell or barter, which they usually did. But now both those girls—my closest friends—are gone, and I'm here by myself. Mostly.

*****

I took over most of the vegetable-growing from Ima in the big vegetable patch or garden, as she liked to call it, that she tended to some years ago when she started getting ill. We barter whatever vegetables we don't eat or dry for the winter months, and that isn't much. We also follow this rule that many Hebrews all over this land follow, at least those who still keep the Law because, sadly, not everyone in our land follows Yahweh nor the covenant that He made with Prophet Moses and General Joshua before we entered this Promised Land. You see, just like us, the land that we depend on for produce and food also needs rest. That's why Yahweh Almighty commanded us to not plough, sow, or reap every seventh year. This is the Sabbath rest for the land. All farmers who grow major crops like wheat, barley, and other grain, vintage and even fruit growers, are required to keep this law.

However, people have been a bit confused about the vegetable side of things, though, and some, including the Levites, who are our priestly leaders, have said that it's all right to grow necessary vegetables like leeks, tubers, and squash and some other vegetables and herbs that people prefer to eat fresh, while others have hearkened completely to the Law and refused to grow anything in their fields, choosing to trust in Yahweh to provide as He has promised to do so for the seventh and also the eighth years, the year that people will be sowing and not reaping (for the grain, vine, and fruit). So we've learned to dry our vegetables and even some fruit from our own few trees and the ones from my uncles and our neighbors—we all share our produce as much as possible—especially for those extra years when everyone, including the land and the fields and the gardens, go on holiday.

Besides that, I also help Abba with the sheep occasionally, especially when his leg gives him trouble, and help him lead the sheep and goats out to the pastures from their sheepcote and sometimes help him herd them back in, and especially when Nadab isn't around to help him, which has often been the case. Nadab often used to start the day with Abba but would sneak off to some of his not-so-good friends, especially a few who've been known to be winebibbers and somewhat riotous. Abba and the uncles have tried to speak to him about this, but such encounters usually end on a sour note or threats of him leaving home. That's why I used to keep an eye out for Abba and help him with the sheep when I could.

Now, however, since Ima's death, I've had to take on all the housework, and thankfully, my uncles and cousins have stepped in to help Abba when he needed it. Otherwise, I would occasionally take him his midday meal and spend a little time with them, and also with the animals out in those wonderful green pastures. I loved it. This depended on my turn every few weeks because there is so much work to be done around the house and the garden—cheese and curds to be made for us and the market, vegetables to be grown and harvested for ourselves and then for the local weekly or fortnightly market, besides the regular work of keeping a home, and that is a lot. There's the constant round of cooking, of grinding the grain almost daily for cooking, then the cleaning of the house, and the washing of the clothes, which we, thankfully, don't do daily. Otherwise, we would need a much longer day to complete all our tasks, and probably an extra pair of hands, I think.

I don't know if I really like sheep or not, and we have so many of them. There are quite a few goats mixed in with them. They seem to be a bit different from the sheep, though. Come to think of it, I think I prefer goats to sheep. They're much hardier and stronger and with a mind of their own unlike the silly, foolish sheep, which have to be led and looked after and protected all the time, and I prefer their milk to the sheep as the cheese that we make from them is tastier and firmer. That's what everyone in the market says, and I suppose that's why we sell out of goat cheese so quickly.

What I do like about sheep, though, is their soft, fleecy wool, especially after we've washed it, and Ima has been able to save a few strands for our own use. The rest of the wool we sell or barter; the saved strands we spin into cloth on her loom. She has shown me how to card wool and even how to spin some yarn and fabric from the stuff on her loom, as we spin and weave most of our cloth for our clothes. She learnt all that from her mother who, I believe, was skilled at spinning and weaving and that sort of thing. Wish I could've met her. She died a few years before I was born. Unfortunately, I didn't get to meet either of my grandmothers. What a shame!

What I most like about both the sheep and goats, though, is their wonderful milk and all the good things we can make from the milk, especially the rich, tasty cheese. Ima taught me at a young age how to make cheese and curds, and I enjoy doing it, and we also get to sell or barter what we don't use for the house in our weekly and larger fortnightly market here. If there's any left over, we take it to Bethlehem market and sell or barter it there. But that's seldom the case.

Back to my point. My heart yearns for company, now that my two village friends are married and gone—good, solid friends or relatives that I can confide in, talk to, share my heart and thoughts with, more so since dear Ima is gone. Dear, darling soul. Oh, how I miss those lovely times we used to spend together either working in the garden or in the house! She taught me so much.

And those wonderful visits to her gentle, priestly brother in faraway Shiloh in the north—what can I say? Darling Ima came from a Levite family, unlike my father who is a Judahite—theirs was such a sweet, romantic wedding—well, that's a story in itself. Anyway, her Levite brother, my uncle Haroun, and Aunt Lishva live in faraway Shiloh with their three daughters—Beulah, Azubah, and Deborah—who are all close to my age. Our yearly visits to them have now lessened considerably. Oh, how I miss them and those grand old times of fun and festivity and celebration that we spent with them every year at the festivals of Passover and Weeks in the spring and then at Tabernacles in the fall! Occasionally we used to alternate the trips for the various festivals, but usually, we didn't miss out on Passover and Tabernacles as they are our major feasts.

I vaguely recall the first time we went. I must've been around three or four, and it was for the Feast of Tabernacles in the autumn after the harvest. I think Abba carried me on his shoulders all around the Shiloh stalls. Or it may have been one of the uncles as my Abba can't do too much of walking and lugging about a bouncy three- or four-year-old with his bad leg. But the memories of Shiloh are deep in my soul and heart. You see, Shiloh is the place where the Tabernacle is set up, which houses the sacred Ark of the Covenant between our people and our special God, Yahweh. It is the place where all of us Hebrews meet for our feasts and festivals from all over the land of Israel as we gather to worship our God and to remember His special covenant with us. So it's very special to us.

I can still remember the last time we went. I was fourteen at that time. What a grand trip that was. I had to stop going after that for any of the feasts because of Ima's health as she was too ill for us to leave behind. Only Abba managed to go occasionally, at least once a year. But the journey was too long and tiring and worrisome even for poor Abba who used to be concerned about dear Ima's health. It would take us a few days of trekking and stopping on the way what with the sacrifice animals, the best of our flocks and herds, as well as all the grain and produce offerings of fruit and oil that Ima and Abba had kept aside as firstfruits and offerings to Yahweh for His good provision throughout the year.

Not only did we do this for the feasts of First Fruits and Weeks in spring after the first harvests, we did it for the other feasts and any vows and oaths and freewill offerings that we made to the Almighty as well. And then there were all the gifts for Uncle Haroun's family also. Ima always selected the best gifts for Uncle Haroun and his family and made sure that we took him and his family good provision on every trip that we made to Shiloh even if she didn't go herself. You see, he is her older brother and a Levite and doesn't possess too many worldly goods like cattle and sheep and lands like we, ordinary folk do, though he and Aunt Lishva have a nice, cozy little house quite close to the marketplace in Shiloh. So Ima does her best to provide for him and his family as we've been instructed to do by Prophet Moses.

I enjoyed the journey just as much as the weeklong stay in Shiloh itself. Usually, we stayed a few more days at Uncle Haroun's place either before or after the feasts, and that was even more fun as I got to spend all that time with Beulah, Azubah, and little Debbie. The booth-making and the booth-dwelling parts during Tabernacles were the best part of all the three festival trips, I've always thought, though Passover was just as busy and crowded but far more solemn. That's when we got to mingle with everybody, including the animals and the birds, and experience all the sights and sounds. And there seemed to be people and people and all kinds of animals and even birds everywhere. They seemed to have come from all over the country—north, south, east, and west. Didn't know there were so many people who spoke the same language as we did and worshipped the same God as we in our little Judean village did. That was an awe-inspiring thought. But what got me back in those days was just the noises and sounds and food and fun and laughter and chatter and music and entertainment and singing and dancing and the merriment in and around those wonderful, leafy, shady booths that we'd made from all kinds of trees. And all that stayed with me the whole year round.

I can still picture those lovely scenes from my girlhood, and even now, it brings tears to my eyes. Oh Shiloh!

I loved being with my three cousins. I wish they lived closer to us, though. Then I could see them often instead of just twice or three times a year. We often visited Shiloh for Yom Kippur or the Day of Atonement too in the fall a week before the Feast of Tabernacles. But that's a solemn occasion, and the mood is quite different then. There isn't any celebration then as our Law teaches us to reflect on and remember the sins that we have committed before God and others during the year. During this time, we bring our sacrifices to the Almighty, and the High Priest offers a goat each for the priests' sins and for the collective nation's sins. But we do remember that although Yahweh is so holy and righteous, He is, nevertheless, merciful and compassionate and slow to anger as He forgives our sins and asks us not to commit them