Orpah’s Story

Naomi Entreating Ruth and Orpah

William Blake, 1795, Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons

Excerpt from Megillat Orpah by Chaim Nachman Bialik (Translation by Atar Hadari)

https://mosaicmagazine.com/observation/religion-holidays/2019/06/how-the-jewish-national-poet-revitalized-an-ancient-literary-form/

But Orpah withered with old age in the land of the Philistines, and she became mournful and fractious, and the crone sat all her days on the crossroad and the highway like a piece of dead meat and wove flax and wound a spindle. But she saw two great-grandsons from her giant husband, both Goliath and Yishbi his brother, and the boys grew up wild, and became tearaways. But they had stature and dignity, and they put on iron and bronze like their fathers, and studied murder and mayhem from their boyhood days and when they went out in the army they were like ravening wolves and they quenched the land with tears and blood.

The fruit doesn’t fall far from the tree, nor does the fruit’s fruit, and the power of fathers is in their descendants after them for all time.

Excerpt from Oprah’s Name by Rabbi Rachel Bearman & Rabbi Paul Kipnes

Oprah’s Story: Midrash

https://jwa.org/blog/orpahs-story-midrash

As I walk along with my mother-in-law, Naomi, and my sister-in-law, Ruth, I feel the weight of our supplies hanging from the strong cord draped across my shoulders. Every step causes the rough rope to drag across the back of my neck, burning my skin, marking me, scarring me.

When we camped last night, I lifted my hair to apply a cool compress to my wound. It was then that Naomi saw for the first time that I was injured. Always so full of compassion, she flew to my side, calling for Ruth, and, for a time, both women worked together to soothe and heal my skin.

This morning, Ruth offered to carry the packs, but when I looked over at her, all I could think about was how delicate she is. She is the youngest daughter in a family with many sons. She was never required to use her body’s strength. Though her heart and her spirit are stronger than many others’, Ruth would feel the burden much more intensely than I would. I refused her kind offer, asking her instead to focus on Naomi whose shoulders had stooped and sagged since the healer had told her that her son, my husband, had been gathered to his ancestors only weeks after Ruth’s husband, Naomi’s first-born child, had passed from this life.

And so, once again, I shoulder my burden and offer gratitude to my gods and to my husband’s god for the strength in my bones. I am the eldest of five sisters, and all of us were born with the breadth and strength of our father’s people. There is no delicateness in any of us.

I first met my husband, Chilion, when he and his brother came to our camp, asking if they could water their sheep at our spring. My father agreed and called my sisters and me to help the men. I felt Chilion’s eyes following me as I worked. When I smiled in response to his blatant interest, his face seemed to light from within. I turned back to the animals, but when I heard someone cough directly behind me, I whipped around to find Chilion standing close, grinning. He was slightly shorter than I am, but he didn’t seem bothered by the fact that he had to look up to see into my eyes.

“Hello,” he said with a smile.

“Hello,” I replied, smiling back.

“Your father said that your name is Orpah. I’ve never heard of anyone named Orpah before.”

“I was named after the mother of my father. In our family, the first female child of every generation receives the same name.”

“Ah,” he replied. “What does it mean in your language? In mine it means simply, ‘back of the neck,’ but I think your family would not honor your name as they do if it did not include more meaning among your people.”

I noted that he was still smiling at me with all the confidence of a giant. His eyes held nothing but admiration and curiosity. I could not find even a trace of the mockery that other, smaller men had offered my sisters and me when we gathered for feasts or celebrations.

“Well, the word itself means ‘neck,’ but we never use it to refer to our bodies. For my people, and especially for my family, the name Orpah means the kind of strength that allows you to bear your burdens while standing tall and proud, head and eyes lifted and shining.”

His smile grew, and his eyes danced. “Well, Orpah, it would appear that you were well named.”

Excerpt from It’s Okay to Leave by Tamar Biala

It’s Okay to Leave

https://www.myjewishlearning.com/2015/05/18/its-okay-to-leave/

“I felt resistance to the delegitimizing of her persona and her choice of action that the tradition had developed and deepened. And finally a few years ago, I wrote a literary piece, what I imagine a letter from her might have been, one that throws light on the step she took, and portrays her as a role model for other people who, for different reasons, may identify with her. I wanted to present her and her values as a legitimate option, the way I feel the Bible does. Because the step that Ruth took, is lifnim mishurat hadin, beyond the letter of the law. That is the reason why we call it chesed. Wonderful as chesed is, and inspiring and guiding us as it is, some people, at certain times, simply cannot do it, and the efforts they make to return to normalcy, are legitimate and worth of praise.“