Bereft of her husband, children, and wealth, Naomi returned to rebuild a nation

Elimelech returned home, his face troubled, and sat down heavily on the sofa. A servant hurried to bring him a drink.

Naomi sat down opposite him. “What’s wrong?”

“What a generation we live in, where people judge the judges!” Elimelech’s eyes blazed. “I’ve just come from the town square, where I tried to deliver some much-needed tochachah. Not only did they pay no attention, they heckled and laughed… such chutzpah. I saw Menasheh there and told him it would be fitting for him to give some of his money to Torah scholars, and he just laughed and yelled, “Practice what you preach, Elimelech!”

Naomi shifted uncomfortably.

At this moment the couple’s two sons, Machlon and Chilion, entered the room.

“What do you care what the people say?” Machlon interjected. “They’re just jealous of us, they always have been. We’re from Shevet Yehudah and direct descendants of Nachshon ben Aminadav. They’re jealous of our wealth and prominence, and they’re jealous that mother is one of the 22 great and righteous women of our nation. They’re jealous of the 30 virtues Hashem has showered on us, 30 virtues that make you worthy of kingship.”

“It’s true, my son.” Elimelech nodded. “Even my name shows it — Eli-Melech. The kingship will come to me.”

The next day, Elimelech returned to the city gates. “O Jews!” he called out. “The famine is at our doorstep! We must repent fully, or a great famine will descend upon us; our present prosperity will be forgotten!

“You cannot escape your punishment,” Elimelech admonished them. “Return to Hashem and repent!”

The day before, his rebukes had been met with no worse than laughter and jeers; this time some of the younger people in the crowd advanced toward him, swinging their arms.

“We beat the rest of the judges!” one wild-eyed teen screamed with fury. “We can beat you too!”

“What are you worrying us about, a drought? A famine? Seems to me that you have enough to feed all of us for ten years,” jeered another. “Elimelech, don’t think you can scare us with threats of drought. If there’s a famine, you’ll open your grain warehouses to feed the masses. What else makes you a zakein and gadol hador?”

“He’s right.” Murmurs of assent were heard throughout the crowd.

Elimelech returned home, pensive. He spent the rest of the day in his room, deep in thought. Then he entered the parlor and called his children and Naomi. “Listen to me carefully.” He paused and sighed heavily. “I’ve thought long and hard about what I’m about to say, and there’s no other way. We’re leaving Eretz Yehudah.”

His words seemed to suck the air out of the room.

“What?!”

“How can we leave our beloved country for a foreign land?” Naomi was in shock.

“But Father, you have to understand, Machlon and I have a responsibility as community leaders,” Chilion spoke quietly. “To be honest, Father, you have the same responsibility.”

“That’s exactly why I’m leaving,” Elimelech exploded, “because of my responsibility! The people think that my wealth will save them, but if they don’t return to the Torah, the famine will worsen and my money will run out! The drought won’t stop until they do teshuvah, but my presence — or more likely, my wealth — have made them complacent.

“Look,” Elimelech turned to face his sons, “I’m one of the leaders of the generation. And I haven’t been able to convince the people to do teshuvah. If I leave, they’ll be forced to cast their eyes upward for help, they’ll finally understand that they have no one to rely on but their Father in Heaven. I have no choice.”

“So, just like that, you’ll leave a place of Torah, you’ll leave all of your friends from the Sanhedrin?” Machlon said in disbelief.

“It’s only temporary.” Elimelech held out his hands. “We’ll go to the fields of Moav, not the great city — I don’t want to live amid the impurity and licentiousness of the Moavites. We’ll stay in the fields and wait for Am Yisrael to understand its error and return to its ways.”

“It won’t look good,” Naomi insisted. “A public servant can’t just run away.”

“I’m not running away,” Elimelech explained. “It’s for their good. What’s the point of spending all our money to feed a people that doesn’t acknowledge the Creator? They scorn the gedolei hador, but when the famine comes, everyone will come knocking on my door, begging for money or bread. I’m not interested in being here with Hashem’s justice hanging over our heads.”

“Do you think you can really escape Hashem’s justice?” Naomi asked quietly.

Elimelech met her gaze. “I’ll conceal myself. I’m just an individual — if I leave, I will skip the din rabim, the punishment of the tzibbur.”

“But you’re a public servant, not a private individual! Your account with Hashem isn’t a private one, but tied in with that of your people. You won’t be able to escape Hashem’s justice.”

Elimelech remained silent.