Megillas Rus relates that after Na’ami returned from Moav accompanied by Rus, they sought the closest relative who would be willing to fulfill the mitzvah of yibum through marrying Rus. (If a married man dies childless, there is a special mitzvah, yibum, for him to marry his wife’s sister. The Ramban explains that the child produced from that union is considered the child of the deceased brother. Thus, yibum is the ultimate act of chesed, granting a halachic legacy/progeny to one who is no longer alive. Although Rus’s brother-in-law was also dead and could not perform yibum, marrying her deceased husband’s closest relative would be acceptable.)
In order to have food for herself and Na’ami, Rus went to a local field to collect the portions mandated to be left for the poor. Through Divine Providence, Rus ended up in the field of Boaz, a relative of her late husband. However, Elimelech, Na’ami’s husband, had a brother who was still alive. Since he was a closer relative than Boaz, the opportunity to perform yibum first fell to him. It was only when he refused that Boaz was able to seize the opportunity and marry Rus. It was that union which eventually bore the Davidic dynasty, including Moshiach.
The name of Elimelech’s living brother was Tov. However, in Megillas Rus he is referred to as “Ploni Almoni – the anonymous one.” Rashi notes that he is not listed by name because of his failure to perform yibum.
Rashi explains that Ploni Almoni refused because he was afraid for his progeny. The Torah prohibits accepting converts from Ammon and Moav (Devarim 23:4). When Rus returned with Na’ami it was unclear whether that verse referred to all Moavites and Ammonites or just to men. Ploni Almoni feared that marrying Rus would cast aspersions on the lineage of his children, and that was why he refused to do so. Boaz however, understood that the Torah only prohibits the conversion of male Moavites. He therefore was willing to marry Rus. (This would have great implications in the life of Dovid HaMelech. See Yalkut HaMachiri, Sefer HaTodaah [section on Sivan and Shavuot] and Yevamos 77a.)
If Ploni Almoni was afraid that marrying Rus might be a transgression, why is he punished with anonymity in the Torah? Wasn’t his refusal justified given the circumstances?
My friend, Rav Aharon Yitzchok Klein, recently related the following story:
“When I was eight years old, my family lived in Brooklyn. One Friday night my parents made a birthday party for my younger sister. My parents invited my aunt and uncle from across the street, and another aunt and uncle from Lakewood came for Shabbos, and we were going to have a small dessert party at the end of the seudah. At the end of the meal my father said, ‘There’s a man who moved in next door and he’s alone. Go over there, and invite him to the party.’
“My sister and I felt uncomfortable knocking on a stranger’s door, but we invited him as we were told. He accepted our invitation and stayed for some time. After that he began coming more frequently. At times he would come for meals, at other times he would drop by just to schmooze.
“One weeknight five years later he knocked on our door and asked my mother if my father was home. When she said he wasn’t he told her that she should please convey to him his message. He had gotten a new job and was about to relocate to Florida. But he wanted to tell them that five years earlier when he had first moved in next door, he had just finished dealing with a messy divorce and wasn’t able to see his only child.
“The first Friday night after he moved in was the first time he was alone for Shabbos in his life. He cried uncontrollably, feeling lonely and miserable. He finally pulled himself together, and ate a seudah by himself. But he told himself that Hashem hated him and this would be the last Shabbos he would observe. Less than two minutes later, there was a knock at the door, and the Klein children invited him for dessert. When he came he felt like a person again for a few minutes. He looked at my mother and said, ‘I want you to know that I am religious today because of you. I wanted to thank you for that before I left.’”
Nachalas Yosef explains that Ploni Almoni was not “punished” with anonymity. Being mentioned in Scriptures is an incredible merit, and that merit is only conferred upon one who actually does something unique and laudable. Ploni Almoni may have been justified in his refusal, but he cannot receive distinction for something he did not do. He may not have done anything wrong, but in this matter, he also did not do anything right.
Sifrei (Devarim 343) famously relates that before Hashem gave the Torah to Klal Yisroel, He offered it to every nation. Each nation demanded first to know the contents of the Torah. When told that the Torah would obligate them to challenge and rise above their nature they refused it. Only Klal Yisroel emphatically declared that they would accept the Torah unequivocally. A moment’s decision, but with perpetual consequences.
Rus and Orpah traveled the same road together. They both left behind the glorious life of a princess to marry scholarly Jews. Both of their husbands died young and yet they decided to remain with Na’ami, their impoverished widowed former mother-in-law. However, when Na’ami prodded them to return to their homes and retake their place of prominence in the nation of their birth, one acceded and one obdurately pledged to remain. One fateful moment, one incredibly fateful decision!
Orpah went home and forfeited her place in the ranks of the great women of Klal Yisroel. In fact, au contraire – her forfeiture plunged her into the morass of depravity, as she was the ancestor of the blaspheming giant Golias.
Rus remained and pledged to be faithful to Na’ami and the Torah which dictated her life. She becomes a heroic matriarch of the Jewish people, mothering the eternal Davidic dynasty. Her descendant Dovid killed Golias.
One moment, one decision. One unwittingly chose anonymity which bred infamy, while the other chose to traverse the road less traveled, which led to eternity.
Every person is presented with moments when he/she must make difficult decisions about how to proceed: Should I get involved or not? Should I join or not? Should I pledge assistance or not? Should I commit or not?
Such decisions are always difficult. But it is worth remembering that sometimes the difference between anonymity and eternity is decided in a fleeting moment.