If last week's passage from the Book of Ruth was about making a commitment, this week's passage is about living out a commitment of concern for another's welfare.

Between the lines, and in a powerfully moving way, the narrator of the book of Ruth tells a story with great artistry and deep feeling. The characters that really matter are those most on the margins, the least powerful, those with the fewest resources except for their wits, their determination, their faithfulness to each other.

Jesus and the disciples are approaching the end of their travels. They're at Jericho, on the edge of Jerusalem, on the edge of suffering and death for Jesus. As they've traveled along, the disciples have been busy figuring out where they want to sit when their dreams of triumph and success come to realization.

We can only guess what's going on in the minds of the disciples as they walk the dusty roads with Jesus. For awhile now, they haven't known that Jerusalem is their destination, and over the past three chapters, it seems that they haven't wanted to know why they're on this journey in the first place.

The laws of any (true) religion are a gift, a path laid out for us, a set of guideposts when we're not sure of the way. Jesus, in his response, isn't quoting a law or laying a mandate on this man. He is opening a door to the next stage, the next step, on this man's journey of faith.

Jesus is asked a legal question, a technical, down-to-earth, question about everyday, lived reality, and he answers with an ideal that is, to be honest, almost impossible to achieve.

It's unusual enough that a book of the Bible bears the name of a woman; it's even more unusual that a book from the Holy Scriptures never mentions the name of God.

We know something important is coming when Jesus sits down, like a traditional Jewish teacher. This isn't just a casual conversation but something critical, something profound, that he hopes his followers will remember long after he has died and risen again.