Again, we stare at the screen in disbelief. Hooked up to our individual devices, still we are one in the grief. At our bagel bar this morning, my man and I don’t say much, as the CNN live stream in the corner continually bleeds over all of us this latest tragedy. A bearded man with a weary face enters with a laptop under his arm, and just says one word to the weathered waitress: “Orlando!” She shakes her head and brings him coffee.

Before we actually turn to the pages of the Book of Ruth, let’s set the stage and prepare our understanding. The words have different meaning when we know who is speaking. I listen differently to someone I might suspect to be a con artist than to my dearest friend. I can’t separate the words from the person speaking them.