“A good man and an earnest question” based on…

February 12, 2017February 15, 2020
by Sara Baron

I
don’t know about you, but I have always been haunted by this
scripture passage. It’s on the short list of texts where I hope
Jesus didn’t mean exactly what he said, but I’m never quite sure.
I do know that the story of the Rich Young Ruler is impossible to
dismiss: It appears in all three synoptic Gospels and it ranks among
the most famous of biblical stories.

The
words “rich young ruler” don’t actually appear in the text. I
don’t know when this story acquired that name, but it does us a
disservice in some ways. We hear “rich young ruler” and we think,
“that’s not me.” We might think, “I’m not rich,” or “I’m
not that rich.” Many of us think, “I’m not young” (I know my
knees think I’m not young and that I should act my age and stop
climbing mountains already). And probably none of us here identify as
a “ruler” – though if you changed that to “manager” a few
of us, myself included, would identify with it.

But
those words, rich young ruler, aren’t in the text, and if we put
that familiar label aside and listen to the man’s story, and
imagine who he might be in our own time, he starts to sound a lot
more like many of us.

Allow
me to update the story for you.

Imagine
the scene: The teacher is leaving. His lecture is done, the Q&A
is over, he’s in the parking lot packing up his car, getting ready
to head home. And a man comes running up to him, out of breath. He
has a burning question on his mind and he didn’t get called on
during the discussion but he just knows he must catch the teacher
before he leaves town.

He
kneels down – he’s a huge fan, he has tremendous respect for the
teacher, he’s read all of his books – and he asks: “Good
teacher, what must I do to inherit eternal life?”

He’s
a good man, and it’s an earnest question.

Now,
we need to step back for a moment from our 21^st-century
parking lot to 1^st-century
Palestine to understand the words in this question. When we hear the
words “eternal life” many of us think of an afterlife, going to
heaven after we die, something separate from this life. But that is
not at all what it meant in Jesus’s time. Rather than being a
temporal idea, something about some future time, eternal life as
Jesus spoke about it was about a quality
of life – about knowing God, a life lived connected to God, a
richer life of purpose. It isn’t separate from this life.

The
phrase “eternal life” is used interchangeably with “kingdom of
God” and “kingdom of heaven” throughout the synoptic Gospels.
It is about living into, establishing the kingdom – the reign –
the dominion – of God and doing it now.
In
that way, it is about living into and working for God’s vision for
the world. This is most explicit in the Lord’s prayer: “Thy
kingdom come, thy will be done, on earth as it is in heaven.”

So
the man’s question, “what must I do to inherit eternal life?”
is a question about what it takes to be part of the kingdom, what it
takes to do the work of the kingdom, to have that richer, purposeful
life, to work for God’s vision in the world.

He’s
a good man, and it’s an earnest question.

And
Jesus says to him, “you know the commandments: ‘you shall not
murder.’”

And
the man thinks, “OK, I’ve got that one. Check.”

“You
shall not commit adultery.”

“Well,
I’m no Donald Trump. So, check.”
“You
shall not steal.”

“There
was that time I really wanted to steal my little brother’s baseball
mitt.
But I didn’t. Check.”

“You
shall not bear false witness.”

“Not
always easy, but at the end of the day it’s just not right
denigrate anyone else’s reputation, no matter what you think of
them. Yeah, check.”

“You
shall not defraud.”

“I’ve
always been an honest businessman. Main Street, not Wall Street. I’ve paid my employees fairly, never cheated my customers or sold those
cheaper widgets that break too quickly. Check.”

“Honor
your father and mother.”

“Always.
When Dad got sick, I was in the hospital every day, and when he
passed away, we had Mom move in with us, even though we didn’t have
a lot of extra room. Yes, check.”

And
then he thinks, “phew!” and says to Jesus, “I have kept all
these since my youth.”

It’s
not a cocky response. He’s not saying, “Hey, look how great I
am.” After all, the very fact that he’s there in the parking lot
with that question, “what must I do…” indicates that he has
doubts that he’s doing enough.

But
he’s good man. He’s lived an upright life; he’s done right by
his family, his neighbors, friends, his employees, his customers. He
coaches Little League, he organizes the annual charity dinner for the
local hospital, he goes to church every Sunday.

He’s
serious about his faith. That’s why he’s there with that
question. It’s an earnest question.

And
Jesus sees all of that. Mark says “Jesus, looking at him, loved
him.” Jesus doesn’t discount any of what the man has done when he
says this next thing to him:

“You
lack one thing; go, sell what you own, and give the money to the poor
and you will have treasure in heaven; then, come, follow me.”

It’s
not that what the man has done is bad, it’s just that Jesus is
saying there’s more. If you truly want to experience eternal life,
if you want to be part of the kingdom, to build the kingdom, to do
God’s work in the world, there is more; and this is what it is.

Our
good man is shocked. He’s devastated. And he goes away, the story
says, “grieving, for he had many possessions.”

Can
you imagine?

Give
up everything?
I could increase my pledge, he thinks, maybe even tithe. But
everything?
And if I give everything away, how will I live? What about my family?

And
what does it mean, “follow me?” I thought that’s what I was
doing.
This
story is about many things, including the undisputable bias against
economic wealth that runs throughout the Bible.

But
it’s about other things, too.

Now
I don’t know if we are all supposed to literally sell everything.

I
do know how the Rich Young Ruler feels when he hears that, though.
Because I have many possessions, too, and as much as I want to follow
Jesus, I know right now I am not giving away everything I own. I
can’t bring myself to do it. Or at least not yet, I won’t say
never.

But
I want to sidestep the question this morning of how literally to take
this directive and focus instead on another dimension of the message
in the story.
This
scripture is about reflection and self-assessment, and then about
encountering judgment from a higher power that leads to deeper
reflection and self-assessment.

The
man asks how he’s doing spiritually. He takes stock as he reviews
how he’s lived up to the commandments Jesus lists. And then he is
issued a deeper challenge; and through that he comes to recognize how
much more he has than he realized, how much more he could give, and
how very hard it would be to do it.

At
its heart, this is a story about recognizing privilege in our lives.

And
in this Trumpian moment, when the oppressors pretend that they are
the oppressed, when the vulnerable are scapegoated, I cannot think of
a more relevant lesson for our times.

I
want to suggest to you that the most useful way to understand and
apply this story in our lives today is not to focus only on literal
economic wealth, but to think about currencies of power and privilege
throughout our lives – whether that be economic privilege we have
because of our income or family background, institutional power or
status that we have through a position we hold at work or in the
community, or social privilege that we have because of our race or
sex, religion or immigration status, our ethnicity or sexuality.
What
Jesus is calling us to do in this story is to look deeper at
everything we have, at how exactly we fit into the many social
structures we each are a part of, to recognize where we have
privilege and power in our lives—and to understand that following
him means putting all of it into play.

Being
a part of the kingdom of God, doing the work of the kingdom means
holding nothing back. If it is God’s intent and desire that no one
be excluded; that no one is inside or outside or better than or worse
than; that the poor, the marginalized and the oppressed of this world
are to be welcomed and defended, then we cannot be a part of that if
we insist on holding onto our own privilege and power. We must be
willing to risk our privilege if we are serious about seeking eternal
life and working in the service of God’s vision for the world.

To
say that this is difficult is an understatement. And the Rich Young
Ruler, our good man, has plenty of company among those who are
unwilling or unable to give up what they have, to use their privilege
or risk their privilege, in the service of God’s kingdom.

The
white person who remains silent when her neighbors are talking about
“those illegals” at the block party, and how glad they are that
we’re going to build that wall – even though she knows her
silence means they will think she agrees.

The
up-and-coming manager who crosses the picket line because the CEO
sent a memo saying all non-union workers were to report to duty as
normal – even though he knows that crossing that line means the
strike will be broken and the workers won’t get the healthcare
their families so desperately need.
The
senators who say they are opposed to Trump’s bigotry, his nominees,
his unconstitutional executive orders, but enable business as usual
to proceed – even though that business puts in harm’s way
millions of undocumented immigrants, Muslims, LGBTQI people, and
people covered by the Affordable Care Act.

Clergy
people, and especially bishops and other high-ranking clergy people,
who do not use their status as moral authority figures to denounce
the rising tide of white nationalism because they are afraid of
backlash from some in their congregations or from other church
officials. Silence, as the gay community reminded the world during
the early AIDS crisis, IS complicity.

Jesus
is speaking to all of these people, and to all of us, in this story.
Speaking up, using your privilege, disrupting the harm, risking your
security to protect the vulnerable – that is the work of the
kingdom.

In
Luke’s story, after the man goes away grieving, Jesus piles on with
one of the Bible’s most famous one-liners: “It is easier for a
camel to go through the eye of a needle than for someone who is rich
to enter the kingdom of God.” As if we weren’t already feeling
like what Jesus is asking is impossible. Indeed, the disciples had
the same reaction. “Then who can be saved?” they ask one another.

If
the story ended here, it would be a bitter tale about our inability
to give up power and privilege for the pursuit of justice. And most
of human history confirms this dark narrative.

But
it’s not
the end of the story.

Jesus
says to his disciples, “For mortals it is impossible, but not for
God; for God all things are possible.”

Do
you believe that? Do you believe that God can inspire mortals to
great acts of daring and personal sacrifice for human freedom?

I
do.

Because
that dark narrative of history is interrupted time and again, in big
ways and small, by another narrative, one about the irrepressible
struggle for truth, for justice, for freedom.

Martin
Luther: “Here I stand. I can do no other.” All things are
possible for God.

Harriet
Tubman: She risked her own life over and over to free others from
slavery. All things are possible for God.

The
Freedom Riders: Black and white women and men together defying
segregation laws in the face of violence, jail, and constant danger.
Yes, all things are possible for God.

The
U.S. Civil Rights movement of the 1950s and 60s is, to me, the finest
chapter of our nation’s history precisely because it is such
eloquent testimony to how God moves in the world inspiring people to
majestic heights of courage and sacrifice and love.

God
is there, too, making all things possible, with every conscientious
objector, with every whistleblower who risks her job to expose unsafe
work conditions or government crimes.

And
God is here, now, in the incredible stand indigenous people have
taken to protect native lands and water against the Dakota Access
Pipeline, in which they have faced down attack dogs, concussion
grenades, water cannons in sub-freezing weather, and arrests, among
other things, and yet remain standing at Standing Rock, in prayer and
witness for the earth itself.

God
is here in the thousands of federal employees who have gone rogue,
risking their jobs by copying data to make sure it’s not destroyed,
filing dissent memos, leaking information to the media and sharing
information directly with the public.

God
is here in the resistance to the Muslim ban and the deportation
orders, in the activists who laid their bodies down in front of an
ICE van last week to prevent the deportation of Guadalupe García and
in the rabbis who were arrested blockading a Manhattan street in
defense of their Muslim sisters and brothers and siblings. In the
thousands upon thousands of protesters who have taken to the streets
every day of the Trump presidency, shoulder to shoulder with people
they had heretofore avoided, chanting “no prisons, no pipelines, no
ban, no wall.”

Yes,
all things are possible for God.

The
question for all of us is, What
things will we let God make possible in our lives? Where
are the places we are called to recognize and risk the power and
privilege we have to do the work of God’s kingdom?

The
answers to these questions are as unique as each of us and our
relationship with God. But if we want to inherit eternal life and do
the work of God’s kingdom, we cannot stay silent and safe on the
sidelines while civil rights are rolled back, Muslims are
scapegoated, immigrants are deported, queer and trans people are
bullied, and dissidents are silenced. We cannot.

What
will you risk? How can you use your privilege? If you’re a U.S.
citizen, will you risk arrest when others cannot? If you’re white,
will you be part of a buffer zone at demonstrations between police
and people of color in order to minimize the danger of police
violence against black and brown bodies? If you’re a Christian,
will you speak up every time you hear an islamophobic remark, whether
it’s your brother-in-law or your boss who makes it?

Imagine
you are at a protest like the one outside the ICE office where
Guadalupe García was held last week. She came to this country when
she was 14, 21 years ago. She’s married and has two kids, 14 and
16, and has worked hard her whole life. Imagine someone like
Guadalupe is about to be deported. She is in the van. Then comes word
that there is a safe house that will offer her sanctuary, they just
need 20 minutes to get someone there to pick her up. The van is about
to leave.

Would
you lay down in front of that van? Would you tie yourself to the
tires? Would you slash those tires, to buy that 20 minutes?

“Go,
sell what you own, and give the money to the poor and you will have
treasure in heaven; then, come, follow me.”

“For
God all things are possible.”

Amen.
February 12, 2017

Sermons

“Subversive Grace” based on Job 2:7-10

February 5, 2017February 15, 2020
by Sara Baron

This
week a clergy friend reached out with a concern about our United
Methodist Bookstore and recourse center, Cokesbury. In the most
recent Cokesbury catalog, on page 21, listed under “Women’s
Studies” was a book entitled “Zip It” with a cover image of
women’s lips zipped closed. He asked us to join him in expressing
displeasure. I did. I got a response from Cokesbury that attempted
to reassure me by informing me that I was ignorant of their intent.
The email informed me that the author, “offers
practical how-to’s meant to inspire her readers to use their words
‘to build, not to break; to bless, not to badger; to encourage, not
to embitter; to praise, not to pounce’. Her work is very
specific to women’s group Bible study and personal devotion and
reflection.”¹
Clearly the author of the book along with the author of the email
perceive this to be EMPOWERMENT of women. You might stake a guess
that I disagree. You’d be right.

Now,
this particular exchange was fairly trivial this week. It was almost
nothing, except that it served as a reminder of the inherent sexism
in The Church and the resiliency of the patriarchy in the
institution. It was just another
piece of frustration and sadness. In the language of Parker Palmer,
it was another expression of the “tragic gap.” He explains it
this way, “Of
all the tensions we must hold in personal and political life, perhaps
the most fundamental and most challenging is standing and acting with
hope in the “tragic gap.” On one side of that gap, we see the
hard realities of the world, realities that can crush our spirits and
defeat our hopes. On the other side of that gap, we see real-world
possibilities, life as we know it could be because we have seen it
that way.”²

Palmer teaches that much of what we struggle with in life is the
reality of the tragic gap and how to be authentic in response to it.

The
tragic gap ALWAYS exists. For the past few weeks though it has felt
like every piece of news, as well as every time I’ve accessed social
media, I’ve been bombarded with reminders of the tragic gap. At
times it has felt like I’ve been drowning in them. My natural
emotional disposition tends toward happiness and playfulness (along
with overthinking 😉 ), but recently I’ve been feeling tired,
overwhelmed, and bogged down.

Now,
it feels imperative to mention that I do not think that a publishing
foible by Cokesbury is a tragedy, it did not send me into a
depression, and it is not even OVERLY significant. In the face of
the scope of issues today, it barely registers. I have to say this
because the last time I acknowledged being personally harmed by the
existence sexism in the church at large I was told by Annual
Conference Leadership that I was a hysterical woman and sent to
Emotional Intelligence training. So, now that’s cleared up.

Truth
be told though, there are so very many reminders of the tragic gap
right now that they are piled on top of each other. There are all
the normal ones and all the exceptionally new ones. I think it is
creating a phenomenon similar to grief: when a new grief occurs it
also serves to reawaken all the grief we have experienced before it.
No one attack on the world as it should be is the problem: they all
add on to each other and start to snow ball. For many in my life,
I’m hearing that they are now avalanching. Dear friends (please
note: friends, none of you, I wouldn’t share your struggles from this
pulpit) have told me this week that they are experiencing physical
symptoms of the anxiety they experience given the current depth of
the tragic gap. I’m also hearing people are having trouble sleeping,
as well as turning to junk food and alcohol to make it through the
days.

As
for myself, this week I noticed that EVERYTHING I try to do is an
uphill battle. It all just feels harder, sort of like how it does
when I haven’t taken vacation in entirely too many months. My
yearning has been to sit on the couch, drink tea, pet my cat, and
watch West Wing and anything more than that requires steeling myself
to do what needs to be done.

I
don’t know how all of you are doing. I hope some of you are fine and
dandy, with either sufficient coping mechanisms, sufficient hope, or
sufficient joy to counterbalance the world’s problems. I know some
of you are really struggling, and that those struggles are often a
combination of the world around us and the personal issues that keep
coming. Perhaps some are also in the middle: aware of the struggles
and making it. After last week’s sermon, and the Biblical book from
which we read, many of you may be feeling anxious that I’m about to
make it worse.

I
don’t think I am. Ironically enough, Job feels like a friendly
figure right now, and his story seems to give us reason for hope.
For those of you who aren’t inherently familiar with the story, let
me summarize quickly: Job is presented as a truly good human.
Everyone agrees that he is “blameless and upright,” faithful to
God, and even overly observant. He made sacrifices to God JUST IN
CASE one of his sons accidentally sinned. He was also wealthy in the
form of enormous flocks. He and his wife and had 10 children, 7 sons
and 3 daughters. God is said to be proud of Job’s good heart and
faithfulness.

Suddenly
things changed: all of his wealth was either killed or stolen. At
the same time, all of his children, who had been feasting together,
were killed when a wind knocked down the tent. Job turned to grief
and turned his heart to God in prayer. Then, in our text, his
health deteriorated, with painful sores opening all over his entire
body. He is already sitting on an ash heap and appears to simply,
calmly, pick up a piece of a broken pot to use to scratch himself.
It seems that he is already so heartbroken that the physical symptoms
barely register.

That
seems right. The deepest grief I have seen in my life has been the
grief of parents mourning for their children. In the face of losing
10 children, I don’t think anything else would even register. Job’s
wife is convinced that his death is imminent, and even in the midst
of her shared grief, she manages to register the degree of his pain.

The
meaning of her words is not entirely clear. She says, “Do you
still persist in your integrity? Curse God, and die.” The big
question is: does she assume he is dying already and wish to ease his
death by helping him speak words of truth on the way out; OR does she
believe his suffering is too great for anyone to handle and believe
that if he curses God, God will finally let him die? That is, it
isn’t clear if she thinks he is dying anyway which then also makes it
unclear if she thinks cursing God will kill him. Since this is a
book especially designed to argue against the idea that a difficult
life indicates that God is punishing you, I’m going to suggest that
the more likely meaning is the first: she wishes for him speak out
loud of his pain to ease the suffering on his way to death.

Truly,
Job’s wife speaks with outstanding grace, especially for a woman who
is also grieving the loss of all of her children. The capacity to
attend to anyone else’s pain in the midst of that grief is unusual –
humans are built that way. She wants his pain to be eased, both
physically and emotionally. She thinks he is being too stoic, and
should let go of his pride in order to find some relief. In Bible
Study we found ourselves telling stories of the end of people’s
lives, and the grace-filled ways we had known loved ones to ease the
end of the dying person’s life. This woman’s words reminded us of
how difficult it can be to let go of a loved one, and at the same
time how much of a relief it is when someone we love is no longer
suffering.

Job’s
wife encouraged him to do what he could do to be at peace at the end
of his life. He refused her, responding that his faith required him
to deal with the pain as it came. In case you haven’t read Job, it
is interesting to note that for chapters upon chapters after this he
expresses his pain with great intensity. However, the prelude seems
to forget those speeches.

Now,
the grace-filled response of Job’s wife has not been heard as such
throughout history. “Chrysostom asked why the Devil left Job his
wife and answered with the suggestion that he considered her a
scourge by which to plague him more acutely than by any other
means.”³
Yep. And he wasn’t alone, “The ancient tradition, reflected in
Augustine, Chrysostom, Calvin, and many others, that she is an aide
to the satan
underestimates the complexity of her role.”⁴
Most male commentators throughout history have condemned Job’s wife
for her words, seeing her as a part of the problem. I wonder how
much of culture’s assumptions about females fed into that
perspective. It was difficult for those of us who studies this
together to hear anything but gentleness, love, and grace in Job’s
wife’s words. They’re subversive grace, for sure, not at all
reflecting the most common ways of showing love, but they’re grace
nonetheless.

The
book of Job explores human suffering, and asks the big questions
about how human suffering and God’s will are related. God’s answers
to Job’s questions are in chapters 38-40 if you want to read them
yourselves. The book of Job gives us a space to reflect on suffering
itself, and it gives us words to name the suffering. We don’t have
to be in Job’s particularly awful position to be suffering, there are
many kinds of suffering in the world.

This
week we had a Gathering of (The) Connection where we talked about
finding peace. We were gifted with wonderful questions: what is
peace? What helps you find peace? What keeps you from peace? We
discussed the balance of righteousness anger and peace, and we
wondered about it. As we discussed a thought started to form in me:
I think I’ve been doing it wrong. (Or if not “wrong” than in a
less than optimal way.)

In
recent weeks, I have allowed my fears and angers to motivate and lead
me, and I am not at my best when I do that. Certainly there is
plenty worth protesting, there are great organizations to donate to,
and imperative conversations to have. However, if I want to be as
useful as I can be in building the kin-dom of God, then I need to
start those actions from the best motivation. Now I’m wondering if I
can attend to centering myself in the unconditional love of God and
wonder of life and Creation – even now, ESPECIALLY now? Can I
allow myself to slow down enough to consider where my energy belongs
and where my gifts are most useful? Can I show up, wherever I show
up, grace-filled and at peace so that the love I have to share can be
part of what I offer in changing the world? Can I learn how to hold
peace in such a deep way that it allows me to hold anger differently?

Please
be aware that I think grace-filled and at peace can be a reasonable
way to protest, chant, and resist!! I’m talking about the inner
motivation and way of responding to the rest of God’s people. When
it comes down to it, I think that the energy we bring into the world
changes it more than the words we use. The world is desperately in
need of love and peace – and listening as well as many many forms
of resistance. Furthermore, in the past few weeks people’s hearts
haven’t stopped breaking in the normal and awful ways human hearts
break. There is still a lot of need around us for patience and
compassion.

So,
I’m hoping that in the face of great suffering I might be able (on
good days) to share subversive grace: to share God’s love from a
place of peace and gratitude WHILE calling the world out of the
tragic gap and into the kin-dom. This will take times of quiet,
intentional reflection, deep conversation, and attending to hope,
gratitude and goodness. This will take paying attention to what
brings me energy – and doing those things. This will take a
regular practice of Sabbath, in particular Sabbath from the news
cycle. I got one of those this week and it made all the difference.

Finally,
I hope that my journey is of use to you as well. In the midst of her
own suffering, Job’s wife found the way to hear her husband’s pain
and respond to it with love, grace, and compassion. That’s
especially hard work right now. But, may God help us to treat
ourselves, and those we love, with similar love, grace, and
compassion. May we find our energy sources, good spiritual
practices, and the freedom to breath outside of the news cycle.
And, with God’s help, may it lower our anxiety and fill us with some
much needed peace. Amen

1Personal
Email, February 1, 2016.

2Parker
Palmer, Healing
the Heart of Democracy,
p. 191. Accessed at
http://www.couragerenewal.org/democracyguide/v36/
on February 2, 2017.

3Marvin
H. Pope, Job.
In
the Anchor Bible Series, (Garden City, NY: Doubleday and Co, 1965)
page 22.

4Carol
A. Newsom “The Book of Job” in The New Interpreter’s Study
Bible Vol IV (Nashville:
Abingdon Press, 1996), page 355.

Rev. Sara E. Baron

First United Methodist Church of Schenectady

603 State St. Schenectady, NY 12305

Pronouns: she/her/hers

http://fumcschenectady.org/
https://www.facebook.com/FUMCSchenectady

Sermons

“Speaking the Truth No One Wants to Hear” based…

January 29, 2017February 15, 2020
by Sara Baron

I can think of no way to begin this sermon other than by apologizing: to any who have survived a sexual assault, for whom discussion of sexual assault escalates the remaining pain, I am sorry. Also, for those who have been yearning for a clergy person to acknowledge the harm done by sexual violence who have been harmed by the conversation not happening, I am sorry.

In the United States, 1 in 6 women and 1 in 33 men will experience an attempted or completed rape in their lifetimes. (Most attempts are completed.) To save you the math, 90% of rapes happen to women and 10% happen to men.¹ In terms of gender that means we need to remember that women are more likely to be living with the internal scars of sexual assault than men are AND that a substantial number of men are also living with internal scars of sexual assault. We also want to remember that members of the transgender community experience sexual assault at MUCH higher rates than cisgender people. More important than the statistics however, is to remember that one rape is one rape too many.

This should never happen.

And it happens a lot. Many people sexually assault others.

The story of King David’s daughter, the Princess Tamar, is a story of sexual assault. Unlike most such stories, Tamar’s story is told. Her story reflects and shines light on many stories that never got told, as well as on the experiences of those who told their stories but were not believed. Instead of having been insulated and protected by her royalty, the story of the princess reflects the experiences of many unnamed men and women throughout history.

Phyllis Trible, a matriarch of feminist biblical criticism, has a chapter on Tamar in her book Texts of Terror. She opens the chapter with these words, “From the book of Samuel comes the story of a family enmeshed in royal rape. Brother violates sister. He is a prince to whom belong power, prestige, and unrestrained lust. She is a princess to whom belong wisdom, courage, and unrelieved suffering. Children of one father, they have not the same care of each other. Indeed, the brother cares not at all.”²

This story comes soon after the one about King David’s adultery, his use of Bathsheba without her consent, and the prophet Nathan calling him on it. David’s shame is very present in the story, including in how he responds to it. Amnon, the lust-filled rapist, is his oldest son and heir. Absalom, Tamar’s full brother, is David’s third son.

The story SAYS that Amnon “fell in love with” Tamar but I think we can easily conclude that Amnon fell in lust with Tamar. This is not what love looks like. As a virgin daughter of the king, Tamar was highly valuable property, useful to be given away to other countries and brokering deals. That meant that she was “protected property, inaccessible to males, including her brother.”³ Amnon, the princely heir, doesn’t seem to like having anything stand in his way. He finds the person who gives him the advice he wants – that he should manipulate his father into giving him access to Tamar to fulfill his lust.

I must say, Trible points out that when Amnon feigns illness and worries his father, in his request that she be sent to him, Amnon refers to Tamar as his sister. She says, “To claim kinship with Tamar at this time averts suspicion.”⁴ I say, UGH.

Tamar does as she’s told. She doesn’t have many degrees of freedom, and the king had ordered her to go. The servants leave, she prepares the food, she brings it to Amnon, and then he grabs her. He demands that she sleep with him, again calling her his sister. Trible goes on, “Through a series of orders, all of them obeyed, Amnon has manipulated the occasion to feed his lust. This time, however, the royal command meets objection. In the presence of a rapist, Tamar panics not. In fact, she claims her voice. Unlike Amnon’s brisk commands, her deliberations slow the movement of the plot, though they are unable to divert it. If Amnon uses the vocative to seduce her, she returns it to summon him to sense.”⁵

Tamar has an unusually cool head. She didn’t panic nor beg. She spoke in reasonable terms and tried to talk him out of it. She pointed out that their country is above such things, which is a great argument to make in a royal family where the country would be valued especially highly. She points out that it would shame her, seemingly thinking he was capable of empathy. He does not seem to be. She names that it would ruin him, making him appear as a fool and a scoundrel. Finally, seeming to become clear that he wanted what he wanted and wouldn’t stop until he got it, she suggests an alternative. She points out that if he asked to marry her, he’d be allowed to, thus avoiding all the other disastrous consequences. Trible says, “Her words are honest and poignant; they acknowledge female servitude. Tamar knows Amnon can have her but pleads that he do it properly.”⁶

That she needs to make such an offer is heart-breaking. However, even the offer to wed the man bent on raping her is ignored. He doesn’t want to hear her speak– he wants to have her subservient and as he fantasized. The text simply says, “but he would not listen to her” and then goes on to say, “and being stronger than she was, he forced her and lay with her.”(13:14) Trible says the text is worse than it first appears in English, “the Hebrew omits the preposition to stress his brutality. ‘He laid her.’”⁷

And then it got worse.

The violence of the rape transformed the lust into hatred, and he ordered her to “Get out.” However, even in this moment of utter vulnerability and violation, Tamar held her own. Trible says, “This abused woman will no more heed Amnon’s order of dismissal than she consented to his demand for rape.”⁸ She responds with “NO.” And she stops calling him her brother. Trible continues, “’No,’ she said to him, ‘because sending me away is a greater evil than the other which you have done to me.’ (13:16a) If the narrator interprets that the hatred is greater than the desire, Tamar understands that the expulsion is greater than the rape. In sending her away, Amnon increases the violence he has inflicted on her. He condemns her to a lifelong sentence of desolation. Tamar knows that rape dismissed is crime exacerbated.”⁹ Again he doesn’t listen. She stops speaking.

Now, this seems to be worth taking a moment to acknowledge that Tamar’s story is not entirely universal and timeless. In her day, if an unmarried woman was raped, it was expected that the man would marry her. That was the least bad option for the woman, since otherwise she was seen as damaged goods which would prevent the possibility of a future marriage and thus the possibility of a financially stable future. Tamar, like other biblical women, was taught that her value was in her capacity to wed and bear male children. This rape AND expulsion violated her body and any hope she had of a future. It was a different time. Today we hope women don’t get stuck marrying their rapists. In any case, she kept her head, her reason, and her voice. But he doesn’t listen.

After she is kicked out and the door is barred to keep her from re-entering, she tears her robe. The robe proclaims her a virgin daughter of the King, and she isn’t anymore. Trible says, “tearing her robe symbolizes the violence done to a virgin princess. Rape has torn her.”¹⁰ She also puts ashes on her head and weeps publicly. She VISIBLY proclaims that wrong has been done to her. She doesn’t hide it. She doesn’t protect her “brother.” She lets her entire body scream for her, and she makes sure it gets listened to this time.

Her brother, her full brother Absalom, speaks to her. When the words are examined deeply, they are quite powerful. He is his sister’s advocate and he offers her a safe place. In this story Absalom is the one we can look to as a moral compass and seek to emulate. (I actually think Tamar is too high of a standard, being that strong, clear-minded and articulate in the face of that violence is not something to compare ourselves to.) Trible explains, “Absalom explicitly introduces this speech with the adverb ‘attāh, ‘now’ or ‘for the time being.’ As Amnon’s pretense deceived David, so Tamar’s pretense will deceive Amnon. Further, rather than minimizing the crime, euphemisms such as ‘with you’ or ‘this deed’ underscore its horror.”¹¹

Absalom starts by asking her if Amnon had raped her. He knows it is possible, and he acknowledges it. He also speaks the words, which means she doesn’t have to, in this case another means of grace. He is tender to her, he reminds her that they are still connected, and he comes up with a plan. He takes the harm done to his sister as real, significant, and relevant to him. She is his sister, that hasn’t changed. The text tells us he brought her into his house, since she was no longer a virgin princess living in the palace. He listened, he cared, and he made a space for her.

From the moments after the rape on Absalom takes charge. Trible suggests that it is in this moment that he supplants King David himself in the story.¹² David is said to be angry – but it is not clear if he is mad at Amnon or at “what happened to Amnon”? Trible says, “David’s anger signifies complete sympathy for Amnon and total disregard for Tamar. How appropriate that the story never refers to David and Tamar as father and daughter.”¹³ David does nothing, which leaves Absalom alone to respond to the harm done to his sister.

In the end of the story, Tamar is “desolate.” Trible explains, “When used of people elsewhere in scripture, the verb be desolate (šmm) connotes being destroyed by an animal (Lam. 3:11) Raped, despised, and rejected by a man, Tamar is a woman of sorrows and acquainted with grief.”¹⁴ And, in response to Amnon not listening to Tamar, Absalom stops speaking to Amnon as well. (Also, eventually, Absalom kills Amnon and then after that he leads a revolt against his father. David’s failure to respond destabilizes his throne. But this is Tamar’s story and we are going to stick with her.)

Her story, such as it is, is concluded in the following chapter. Trible explains again, starting with the Biblical quote, “’There were born to Absalom three sons and one daughter; her name was Tamar.’ (14:27. RSV). Strikingly the anonymity of the sons highlights the name of the lone female child. In her Absalom has created a living memorial for his sister. A further note enhances the poignancy of his act. Tamar, the daughter of Absalom, ‘became a beautiful woman to behold.’ From aunt to niece have passed name and beauty so that rape and desolation have not the final word in the story of Tamar.”¹⁵ Tamar, who would never have a child of her own did have a namesake so that her memory lived on.

One final thought from Trible about Tamar before we end, “she was never his temptation. His evil was his own lust, and from it others needed protection.”¹⁶

Dear ones, this story tells a truth we rarely hear, and it forces us to acknowledge the all too common reality of sexual assault. The Bible holds firmly that God abhors sexual violence, and this story adds that silence from leaders in the face of sexual violence only makes it worse. Yet, in the midst of the honest portrayal of horrific violence, the story also leaves us with hope. Absalom was an advocate for his sister and he gave her a safe-place to be. Because of those like Absalom, healing and life are possible, and violence need not have the last word. Absalom is the brother we hope to emulate when we seek to be brothers and sisters in Christ to one another. So, as we are able, may God help us to be safe places for survivors as Absalom was for Tamar. Amen

1RAINN (Rape, Abuse & Incest National Network) website, https://www.rainn.org/statistics/scope-problem, quote statistics from National Institute of Justice & Centers for Disease Control & Prevention, Prevalence, Incidence and Consequences of Violence Against Women Survey (1998). Accessed January 26, 2017.

2Phyllis Trible, Texts of Terror (Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1984), page 37.

3Trible, 39

4Trible, 41.

5Trible, 45.

6Trible, 45-46.

7Trible, 46.

8Trible, 47.

9Trible, 48.

10Trible, 50.

11Trible, 51.

12Trible, 52.

13Trible, 53.

14Trible, 52.

15Trible, 55.

16Trible, 56.

–

Rev. Sara E. Baron

First United Methodist Church of Schenectady

603 State St. Schenectady, NY 12305

Pronouns: she/her/hers

http://fumcschenectady.org/

https://www.facebook.com/FUMCSchenectady

January 29, 2017

Sermons

“A Defiant Aunt” based on 2 Kings 11:1-3 or…

January 22, 2017February 15, 2020
by Sara Baron

To explain this soap opera to all of you required a lot of remedial scholarship on my part. I think I have it now. The monarchy period lasted for just under 300 years in Israel and just over 400 in Judea, and I found a handy-dandy chart on Wikipedia that helps.

Let’s start with the so-called great King named David (you may have heard of him). His son Solomon became king after him. After the death of Solomon the kingdom divided into two parts: a Northern Part called Israel and a Southern Part called Judea. That is, there was a civil war and the North, which wanted to become a separate nation did so. The Southern succession was SUPER linear, passing directly from father to son with only two exceptions: the one we read about today and the very end of the dynasty. The Northern one is much less linear and way more confusing, and we’re going to ignore most of it today.

The story we read about today is SOUTHERN, it is about Judea, but to understand it we have to start in the North. There was a Northern/Israelite King named Omri, who had been a general of another King and ended up the victor after a coup. The Bible says he was the worst king yet. His son Ahab married Jezebel. You may have heard of her. She is in the running for being the worst woman in the Bible. Jezebel was a princess of the Phoenician Empire, from which you should take that she was not a follower of YHWH.

King Ahab was a selfish, petty, and mean man who tended to follow his wife’s lead. She went on an offensive against the prophets of YHWH and tried to kill them all off so the prophets of rival god Baal could be in power.

If you take nothing else from this introduction, take this: Ahab and Jezebel were rulers who cared only about themselves and power. The Bible calls them unfaithful to YHWH, but I want us to hear that with nuance. The Bible calls leaders unfaithful when they don’t follow the laws of the Torah, and the laws of the Torah were designed to protect the poor and the powerless from the unquenchable thirst for more power and more money of the rich and powerful. Thus, any ruler who cared more for their own power than for the well-being of the people was called unfaithful to YHWH, because being faithful to God MEANT following the rules that cared for the people. Ahab and Jezebel deviated further from God’s vision for a just society than any other rulers before them. Thus they are the standard bearers of evil rulers in Kings and Chronicles. It isn’t just about believing in YHWH or not, it is about being self-serving or caring for the people AS the standard of faith.

Ahab and Jezebel, the power couple of epic evilness, had at least a daughter and two sons. Those sons also became Kings of Israel after their father, and the second of them to take the Kingship was Jehoram (of Israel). Their daughter was named Athaliah. She was married to King Jeroham of Judea. Two men, same name; Athaliah had a brother King Jeroham AND a husband King Jeroham. Eventually Queen Athaliah also the mother of the successor King, Ahaziah.

Just before we get to this little story, King Ahaziah, like several Judean kings before him, was leading military campaigns alongside the Northern Israelite King. The two separate countries were pretty well tied in together at this time (including by marriages), and the Bible seems to think that the evil influence of Jezebel was spreading widely. While King Ahaziah of Judea and his uncle King Jehoram of Israel were off fighting to keep control over vassal states, King Jehoram of Israel was injured.

The great northern prophet Elisha stepped in and anointed the general Jehu as king, to take over for the injured king!! Meanwhile, King Jehoram (of Israel) has gone off to heal in another city and his nephew King Ahaziah (of Judea) comes to visit him. Then the newly minted King Jehu (of Israel) comes and kills them both, and proceeds to go on a killing rampage to ensure that none of Ahab’s 70 other male descendants can take over for him. He also has Jezebel killed, and all the Baal worshippers. I’m telling you, they don’t make soap operas as violent as Biblical history for a reason.

Now, the deceased Jezebel and Ahab have one remaining child in power, their daughter Athaliah who has been Queen Mother to her son Ahaziah. Their male decedents in the north and all of their allies have been murdered. In the grand tradition of seeking power at any cost, the Queen Mother Athaliah has all of the other male royal descendants killed off and claims the throne for herself. This action would have completely eliminated the rest of Ahab and Jezebel’s line as well as the Southern succession. It is unclear if this mass murder involved any of her other sons (there may not have been any), but it certainly includes HER OWN GRANDCHILDREN, the princes of the kingdom.

Now, originally my goal was to discuss the subversiveness of Jehosheba, a daughter of King Jehoham and sister of King Ahaziah, but at this point I’m having trouble with clarity over which woman is more subversive: is it the woman who claims the throne for herself for seven years and is the ONLY break in the Davidic dynasty in 438 years OR the woman who subversively hid her nephew away so he could restore the dynasty?? This leads me to wonder how much are we supposed to care about the dynasty, which I really think is propaganda more than it was God’s will? In their own ways, both of these women were exceptionally subversive, although one seems significantly more evil than the other. While I admit that subversiveness can come in good or evil forms, we are going to keep our attention on the defiant aunt.

Before I started the research for this sermon series, this little story was not one I’d noticed before. It does show up twice, 3 verses each in the standard history of Kings and nearly the same verses in the alternative history of Chronicles. They tell us that there was a ruling queen of Judea, and she was the only one to sit on the throne who was not a descendant of David! She was taken down by the subversive action of another woman, one who was either her daughter or her step-daughter. The historian Josephus claims that Jehosheba was a HALF sister to King Ahaziah which means she wasn’t Athaliah’s daughter, but the text seems to imply the opposite. Generally in these stories a woman is only called a sister that clearly if she is a full blooded sister. It doesn’t really matter, but it is curious.

The Bible struggles with Queen Athaliah’s rule MOSTLY because she was not a descendant of David, and it seems to call her reign illegitimate. The New Interpreter’s Bible puts it this way, “Although Athaliah rules for seven years, the typical regal summaries are omitted in the report, for the narrator does not consider her to have been a legitimate ruler.”¹Apparently, questions of the legitimacy of rulers is not new in human history. Similarly, we can tell from this entire narrative that people in power using their power to do harm to the vulnerable is a long standing tradition and that the prophetic voice exists for the sake of calling power to accountability.

Anyway, to get back to the story, this sister Jehosheba of the newly dead King Ahaziah is ALSO married to the High Priest (which is sketchy in its own right, the power is clearly shared very tightly in that society). She hides her baby nephew and his wet-nurse away in a unused room in the palace to keep him from being murdered. Later she sneaks them both out of the palace and hides them in the Temple for SIX YEARS. For all of those years, his grandmother ruled the southern kingdom of Judea under the assumption that there was no one left with a more legitimate claim to power than the one she had.

Now, its hard to tell from story itself who the mastermind was: Jehosheba or her husband the high priest (we’re going to skip over his name so that no one gets more confused and just call him the high priest). They seem DEEPLY in cahoots. Jehosheba is the one who is said to have stolen away the prince and hidden him for years, but at the end of that time it is her husband who enacts a plan to overthrow Queen Athaliah’s rule by convincing the military that the rightful son of King Ahaziah still lived and should be king instead. Perhaps it was the high priest that asked his wife to protect the baby to begin with. Perhaps it was the Jehosheba who convinced her husband to overthrow the Queen for the sake of her nephew. Perhaps they had a really great relationship and shared in both the planning and the execution of the plan. The text doesn’t tell us. But within the royal family, a princess who was married to the high priest risked her own life and that of her husband and family as well for the sake of overthrowing the Queen.

The Biblical narrative claims that the baby nephew who became King, Joash, was a good king. It seems that his high priest uncle kept in line for as long as the high priest lived, and he even oversaw a restoration of the Temple. He had a 40 year reign of following the ways of YHWH, although in the end he decided to use the Temple’s treasury to pay off a foreign king who wanted to sack Jerusalem and his servants killed him off in response. You can’t make this stuff up. I do not find it clear to what degree Joash really was in charge and to what degree his uncle (and aunt?) pulled the strings after having saved his life, but the gist seems to be that Jehosheba did a good thing for the people of Judea and for the worship of YHWH by saving that baby. Of course, she maintained the royal lineage, but she also helped provide a ruler who cared for the people.

The real question, of course, is what we can draw from these ancient stories of long dead battles for seats of power that matters to us today? Of course there is the timely reminder that the Biblical standard for good leadership is the care given to the people, with particular attention to the poor, the powerless, and the marginalized. I think there is also in Jehosheba’s story the reality that standing up to power can require great personal risk.

The book “Lest Innocent Blood Be Shed” by Phillip Hallie tells the story of a little village in France, Le Chambon, full of Huguenots who truly believed in the Biblical call to take care of all of God’s children. Those French Protestants were responsible for saving the lives of thousand of Jewish children (and adults) during the German occupation of France. They did so while taking their own lives at risk, and indeed pastor’s son was killed for being part of the resistance. The faith of the people propelled them to take care of all God’s people.

The acts of Jehosheba, like the acts of the people of Le Chambon, were extraordinarily courageous because the power structures above them were willing to kill people in order to maintain their power. To be in the resistance sometimes requires acts of great courage and personal risk. Loving God, if and when it becomes necessary for us to take risks to take care of your people, may we prove worthy like Jehosheba and the people of Le Chambon. Amen

1Choon-Leong Seow “The First and Second Book of Kings” in The New Interpreter’s Study Bible Volume III edited by Leander Kirk et al (Abingdon Press: Nashville, 1999), 227

–

Rev. Sara E. Baron

First United Methodist Church of Schenectady

603 State St. Schenectady, NY 12305

Pronouns: she/her/hers

http://fumcschenectady.org/

https://www.facebook.com/FUMCSchenectady

January 22, 2017

Sermons

“Claiming Her Life” based on Genesis 38:1-26

January 15, 2017February 15, 2020
by Sara Baron

My favorite Genesis commentator, Gerhard Von Rad, was a German professor at the University of Heidelberg. Von Rad says it well when he says, “To understand Tamar’s act, the reader must resist comparing it with modern conditions and judging it accordingly, for the modern world has nothing that can be compared to it.”¹ There is so much necessary context required to understand the story that it may seem like isn’t worth it, but I promise you that understanding what she was up against is necessary to show how hardcore Tamar was.

The first thing to understand about this story is levirate marriage. This was a custom practiced in many ancient societies with strong clan structure and significant inheritance laws. It worked like this: if a married man died before producing an heir, his brother was responsible for producing an heir on his behalf. In the ancient Near East it was normal for the eldest son to inherit a double portion of his father’s estate. Thus, if an eldest brother died, his younger brother would be producing the heir who would get the double portion INSTEAD of him. You may remember that Jesus was questioned about a widow who had been married to a series of brothers, in an attempt to stump Jesus.

The second thing to understand is widowhood culture. The practice would have been that a widow would return to her father’s house, and thereby be eligible for remarriage. Only a widow would return to her father’s house. A woman who has a levirate marriage or who was waiting to have a levirate marriage was not ENTIRELY a widow and remained a part of the family of her deceased husband. The question is: to whom does the widow belong? To her father’s family or to her in-laws? As long as there was someone available to produce that heir she belonged to her in-laws. To send her home to her father’s house was to imply otherwise.

The third important thing to know is that there is a significant debate about what sort of prostitution is being referenced in this text. Some commentators suggest that Tamar was acting as a sacred prostitute, within expected behavioral boundaries of her people. (She was a Canaanite.) This is because there are two words for prostitute used in the text, one used in reference to Tamar’s actual story and another – the more common word – used in the accusation against her. Von Rad explains it this way:

In the ancient Orient, it was customary in many places for married women to give themselves to strangers because of some oath. Such sacrifices of chastity in the service of the goddess of love, Astarte, were, of course, different form ordinary prostitution even though they were were repulsive to Israel. They were strictly forbidden by law, and the teachers of wisdom warned urgently against this immoral custom, which was apparently at times fashionable even in Israel. At the borders between Israel and Canaan, where our whole story takes place, the appearance on the road of a ‘devoted one’ was obviously nothing surprising. Tamar does not pretend to be a harlot as we think of it but rather a married woman who indulges in this practice, and Judah too thought of her in this way. It is characteristic that our narrative in vs. 21 and 22 also uses the expression ‘devoted one’ which recalls the sacred meaning of this practice.”²

In contrast, J. Maxwell Miler in the New Interpreter’s Bible, says, “Although her dress and action could imply prostitution (the veil both invites and conceals), the narrator does not mention it. Judah so interprets the veil and propositions her (vv. 15-16). In v. 21, his friend speaks of her as a ‘temple prostitute,’ probably only more discreet language for a prostitute (with no official cultic reference.)”³ In either case, Judah was very comfortable paying a woman to have sex with him and very uncomfortable with a woman he controlled having sex for money! Or as Miller puts it, “When Judah saw her as a prostitute, he used her; when he sees her in this capacity as his daughter-in-law, he condemns her. Clearly Judah applies a double standard.”⁴ Furthermore, the death he condemns her to is particularly harsh. As Von Rad says, “The punishment itself is certainly, in the narrator’s opinion, the severest possible. The later law recognized burning only in an extreme case of prostitution (Lev. 21.9). The custom was death by stoning for such offenses (Deut 22.23 ff; Lev. 20.16).”⁵ This likely relates to honor culture, and to have a woman in his family prostituting herself decreased his honor, while using a prostitute did not.

The issue is that by sending her back to her father’s house, he had functionally disowned her. Yet, the people brought her pregnancy to him as if he was still the person who owned her, and he had no issue judging her, as if he still owned her. Von Rad explains, “If one examines the legal aspect of the case, its difficulty becomes apparent. On the basis of what fact was the complaint made? Because of a widow’s prostitution or that of an engaged girl? Those who turn to Judah in this matter seem to assume the latter. Judah assumes competence as judge; he thus reckons Tamar as part of his family, though Tamar’s act proceeded from the assumption that Judah had released her permanently from the family and gave no further considerations to a marriage with his third son.”⁶

Finally, we need to remember that women had no legal standing in that time and place. As Walter Brueggemann pus it, “a striking contrast is established between this man who has standing and status in the community and this woman who stands outside the law and is without legal recourse.”⁷Tamar was being treated as if she was a widow by being sent back to her father, but also as if she was engaged to Shelah. She was in legal limbo and had no way to get out of it. Judah, by telling her it was a temporary solution was both dishonest with her and kept her from having any sort of life in the future. Von Rad says, “Judah’s wrong lay in considering this solution as really final for himself but in presenting to Tamar as an interim solution.”⁸

So, now that we have all the context down, I’m guessing we’ve all forgotten the actual story, right? Judah has gone off away from his brothers to live among the Canaanites. He marries a Canaanite woman, has three sons, and he finds a wife, Tamar, for the eldest son whose name is Er. Er dies, and Judah seems generally afraid of women and is a bit afraid Er died because Tamar was… scary or something. The story seems to believe God killed Er for being bad. Then Er’s younger brother Onan WAS bad. As Miller puts it, “Onan sabotages the intent of the relationship in order to gain Er’s inheritance for himself upon Judah’s death – the firstborn would receive a doubleshare. He regularly uses Tamar for sex, but makes sure she does not become pregnant by not letting his semen enter her (coitus interruptus, not masturbation). He therefore formally fulfills his duty, lest the role be passed on to his other brother and he lose Er’s inheritance in this way. This willful deception would be observable to Tamar, but God’s observation leads to Onan’s death (again, by unspecified means).”⁹ Tamar knew what was happening the whole time but no one cared, and she had no legal standing. As is true in Genesis, when a man sexually mistreats a woman, God does harm to the man. So Onan dies.

Judah is now completely freaked out that Tamar is powerful and killing off his sons. So he tells her that he wants her to go home to her father’s house to wait for his youngest son, Shelah, to grow up but he is lying! He intends for her to die in limbo as a widow/engaged woman who no one else can touch, while not taking care of her and not letting anyone else be responsible for her either. Years later, after Judah’s wife has died, Tamar becomes certain that Judah never intended to do right by her.

So she dresses herself in a way that suggests she’s available, which includes a veil so he doesn’t know who she is, and her father-in-law propositions her. She says yes, sleeps with him, gains two identifying possessions, and then he leaves. She takes her veil back off and reclaim the role of widow, so that when Judah sends her the agreed upon goat, she can’t be found. Thus she keeps the identifiers. She is eventually found to be pregnant and Judah is told. He judges her harshly and decrees she should be burned to death – for adultery, that is for being unfaithful to his son Shelah who he never intended to let marry her anyway. AS SHE WAS BEING BROUGHT OUT she sent word to Judah saying “the guy who owns these is the father” and with them sends his identifying possessions.

Then, suddenly, Judah sees the light, admits all his wrong doings, takes back the condemnation, takes care of her again, AND doesn’t sleep with her again. Actually, I don’t entirely believe that last part. Since the text doesn’t say whose wife she becomes, and since she had children by him, I suspect he did keep sleeping with her and the text itself protests too much – but who knows?

More to the point, Tamar existed in a time when she was seen as possession more than as person. She existed in between cultures, neither of which respected her, and she had no legal voice with which to articulate her concerns. We know nothing about her relationship to Er, but we know that both Onan and Judah used her to fulfill their own ends. She was left in limbo, unable to find a life that would support her over the long run, and she was lied to about it. She came up with a plan to inverse her circumstances, and it was radical, revolutionary, risky, and difficult. I doubt she particularly wanted to sleep with Judah, but she used her sexuality and his openness to fulfilling his sexual needs to get what she needed. Tamar is one of the most hardcore human beings I’ve heard about. Ever.

Tamar refused to be ignored, denied, pretended away. She refused a life that would be most likely to end with her homeless and starving. She refused a life without the opportunity to mother (which she would have been told was her her reason for existing). She outsmarted the man who had all the power over her, and he acknowledged her righteousness in the end – EVEN though many would still prefer to condemn her.

The thing is, I suspect Tamar was not the only woman around who was stuck in legal limbo. She is, however, the only woman whose story is being told because she found her way out. She was the extraordinary one who overcame overwhelming circumstances. She was the exception. Her courage and intelligence worked for her when she existed in a system that was designed to see her as property rather than as a human. Tamar blew up the rules in order to get a chance at her life. And she gets acknowledged for it throughout history.

The children that Tamar would bear would be ancestors of King David and as such ancestors of Jesus. She is one of three women listed in Matthews genealogy of Jesus. Interestingly Judah (and not Er) is listed as the father in that genealogy.

We have a story of an exceptional human here, one who beat a multitude of odds. Yet I think the value of the story is that it points out to us just how broken that system was. It didn’t take care of all the people and it took an exceptional person breaking all the rules to navigate it. I think if we are to learn anything from the courage of Tamar and from her choice to claim her life it is this: may we fight with people who are as stuck as Tamar was so that no one is required to be the exceptional hero in order to claim a life worth living. That is, may there be fewer people who need to go to such extremes, because people in desperation have allies like us. Amen

Sermon Talkback

What other stories can you think of: exceptional humans overcoming overwhelming odds that no one should ever have to face?
Why do you think Tamar is included in the genealogical list for Jesus?

And why with Judah as father, not Er?

This story doesn’t fit in at all. It is essentially stand alone. Why do you think it kept getting told?
Was Tamar more in the right? Why?
Where are we successful in being allies to those in extenuating circumstances?
Where are not successful?
What do you think motivated Tamar?
God isn’t spoken of much in this story, moreso God is implied. This is an OLD story. Within its constructs, God who is quite active in killing off the immoral lets Tamar’s actions stand. What does that mean???

—-

1Gerhard Von Rad, Genesis: a commentary in The Old Testament Library series (The Westminster Press: Philadelphia, 1972) 359.

2Von Rad, 359-360.

3J. Maxwell Miller “Genesis” in The New Interpreter’s Study Bible Volume 1edited by Leander Kirk et al (Abingdon Press: Nashville, 1994), 605

4Miller, 606.

5Von Rad, 360-1.

6Von Rad, 360.

7Walter Brueggemann, Genesis in Interpretation: A Bible Commentary for Teaching and Preaching series (Westminster John Knox Press: Louisville, Kentucky, 1982) 310.

8Von Rad, 358.

9Miller, 605.

–

Rev. Sara E. BaronFirst United Methodist Church of Schenectady

603 State St. Schenectady, NY 12305

Pronouns: she/her/hers

http://fumcschenectady.org/

https://www.facebook.com/FUMCSchenectady

January 15, 2017

Sermons

“What Do the Wise Men Mean?” based on Isaiah 60:1-6…

January 8, 2017February 15, 2020
by Sara Baron

In April of 2002 I was studying abroad at Oxford University in England when my dearly beloved grandfather died. He passed away late on a Saturday morning, which meant I heard about it around nightfall. With the help of friends and housemates I figured out what to eat for dinner (seriously, this involved asking a friend what I liked to eat, I was beyond knowing), found a chapel to pray in (a housemate walked with me, seemingly I wasn’t trustworthy to walk a few blocks by myself), and got a plane ticket home (a friend found it for me). By the end of the night things were set: I was scheduled to leave early the next morning a bus to Heathrow airport and would get to Newark by that evening.

In those frugal college days I didn’t keep much cash on hand, and even by those standards I happened to be running low on pounds. I had dollars, but I didn’t have have pounds. For reasons that now escape me, I exchanged currency was in the back of a department store, and I certainly wasn’t thinking about the need for cash the night my grandfather died. I didn’t realize I needed money that night, and even if I had, by the time I could have pulled myself together enough to notice – the store would have been closed.

By morning I realized my error, but it was Sunday, and EARLY morning, and there was no way to solve it. (In retrospect I could easily have asked my housemates, but my deeply independent nature didn’t come up with that idea!) I got to the bus on time, with a plan. I had enough money in American dollars to pay TWICE the bus fare. I figured that would work.

It didn’t.

The bus driver was sympathetic, but unable to let me on the bus without paying the fare – in pounds. I had no pounds. I had no way to get pounds. And I had to get on THAT bus to make my flight home. Getting home to my family felt like a need. The grief for my grandfather was deep seated, and raw.

I don’t remember how it happened exactly, someone must have overheard my offer of paying twice the fare and why I had to get home, but the people on that bus paid my fare for me. Many people offered one pound each and then it was paid and I was on my way home. My independent nature was so embarrassed by that at the time that I blocked the story for years and it has only recently re-emerged.

Now, with a bit more perspective, I’m less ashamed that I wasn’t able to do everything perfectly without notice and in the midst of grief. Now, with the wisdom of another decade and a half I’m not embarrassed to have needed help anymore. Instead I am grateful for the gifts of strangers when I needed it most

I am so grateful for the chance to read Shirley Readdean’s excellent sermon from last week, and she motivated me to be playful with the text as well. The story of the magi was told to make sense of the world and of Jesus, it is intentionally metaphorical and rich in meaning, making easy space for us to explore our own lives within it.

It struck me this week that accepting gifts from strangers isn’t particularly easy – at least it hasn’t been for me. I’m told Simone Weil once said, “It is only by the grace of God that the poor can forgive the rich for the bread they give them,” which has to do with both the challenge or receiving gifts AND the issues of income inequality. This story of Matthew’s gets into all of that!

What would this experience have been like for Mary and Joseph? They were relatively young, or at least she was and he might have been! Mary certainly hadn’t known much of the world, and there is no reason to think Joseph had either. They were likely quiet provincial. By the best guesses of scholars they were poor. If Joseph made his living as a carpenter that would mean that there was no longer access to the family lands – they’d been lost to debt. Peasants living without land were worse off than those still living on it. Likely they worked very, very hard and had little time to travel. If they were from Nazareth (which seems more likely than anything else), then they knew about the Roman destruction of Sepphoris 4 miles away and about 8 years earlier. They knew oppression, poverty, and hard living. They also knew a deep faith in a God who cared about the people, and who did not want them dying of complications of poverty. I suspect it was their Jewish faith that helped them get through the day, every day. I suspect it was much easier to trust fellow Jewish residents of Nazareth than it was to trust outsiders or non-Jews, the world had taught them to be wary.

Or, if we want to take Matthew’s story at face value and put the Holy Family in residence in Bethlehem, then they were in a small village 6 miles from Jerusalem. There, too, they would learn to be cautious of outsiders, particularly the Roman Empire and their regional authorities: the religious leaders of the day. Mary and Joseph would have found it much easier to trust the Jews in their own village than outsiders, the Temple priests, or non Jews.

Wherever they originated from, as Jewish peasants Mary and Joseph would have had good reason to be hesitant about outsiders and non-Jews. Furthermore, the primarily stories of the faith included the stories of exile and return – that is, of domination from Eastern empires and their strange gods. The gospel of Matthew tells us that the the magi were from the East, and that they stopped in Jerusalem on their way to Bethlehem. That would be reminiscent of the eastern empires that had previously dominated the Jews AND a connection to the empire that currently dominated them. These magi had the power to gain an audience with King Herod, who was known to be crazy and cruel. Can you see what I’m getting at? It is possible that the magi would have been terrifying to Mary and Joseph, and for good reason. Then, to add to all the complications of their existence, these strange and powerful strangers came into their home bearing VERY expensive gifts.

How would Mary and Joseph felt? Would they have been afraid? Were they overwhelmed? If so, what bothered them the most? The non-Jewishness? The connection with their history of exile? The connection the Magi had to the power-players of the Roman Empire? The power they themselves had? The foreign language? The expensive gifts? The expectations placed on their baby son? Or was it simply the danger the strangers brought with them by declaring Jesus to be a threat to Herod’s power? Whichever of these bothered them MOST, I’m thinking that if I was in their sandals, I might not want those magi around very much.

The magi are VERY different, VERY powerful, and thus VERY dangerous. They don’t know Jewish traditions or laws, and they are connected to the power structure of oppression. Furthermore, in basic human nature, it is especially uncomfortable to receive gifts that can never be repaid. Jewish peasants would never EVER be able to repay the gifts of the kind that the magi bought, Jewish peasants were living just BELOW subsistence level and gold, and frankincense and myrrh are EXPENSIVE. In fact, those are the kinds of gifts that aren’t given in normal human exchange – they are the kind of gifts only given to people in power (like kings) in hope of recognizing the king and winning favor. The gifts of the magi communicate that Jesus was perceived as a king, of a standard order human kingdom. Likely that’s one of the reasons the story is told, to prefigure Jesus’ kingship. However in real life, that would be AWKWARD.

The presence of the magi in the story Matthew tells helps develop the story in other ways too: it gives a reason for King Herod to know of the threat of Jesus, thereby making the journey to Egypt seem more plausible (really it exists in order to present Jesus as the new Moses); it indicates that the life of Jesus would be significant beyond the realm of Judaism; and it foreshadows the ways that the adult Jesus would threaten the power of Rome and the authority of its appointed leaders. The magi themselves, coming from East to Jerusalem, fulfill dreams dating back to the exile, as we can see in Isaiah. That dream is not just of a restoration, but of restored power to the Jewish people and international recognition. The coming of the magi in Matthew is meant to indicate that Jesus is bringing the fulfillment of the desires of centuries. Even so I still think the men themselves would be terrifying to actual Jewish peasants.

On top of it all, I still wonder what it would have been like to such receive gifts from strange and powerful men. It can be hard to receive gifts anyway, they require a certain openness and vulnerability. It is harder when the gift is one-sided and cannot be reciprocated. I think, at least for me, it is also difficult to receive gifts from strangers. I take this from the fact it has taken me nearly 15 years to tell the story I started with! Furthermore, the acts of giving and receiving a gift is a connection between people, and would be hard to build a connection with people who are frightening, strange, and powerful. Finally, and this I’ve been worried about since childhood, if these expensive gifts were given to the Holy Family before a significant journey HOW ON EARTH would they keep them safe without a caravan to protect them?

The story doesn’t go into these details at all. It just says the magi offered Jesus the gifts and then left by another road, thereby short-changing Herod. Metaphorically this suggests that being present to Jesus would change how people used their power in the world and who they trusted. That suggests that the giving of the magi’s gifts to Jesus was helpful to the magi! That’s easy enough to believe – it is a wonderful and transformational thing to be able to give a generous gift. (This may be why they’re hard to receive!)

It is with humble gratitude that I think of the people who paid for my bus fare, people whose names I didn’t know and who I have thus been unable to pay back. They have left me with gratitude for the opportunities I have to help others along the way, and gave me a more clear sense that we as humans are all in this together. That moment in time was one when I truly didn’t have what I needed, and others provided it. I am thankful to have known that need, and even more thankful to have had it cared for.

The graciousness of Mary and Joseph who let strange and powerful foreigners into their home to greet their baby and give expensive gifts is mesmerizing, even after hearing it every year. Those strange men whose very lives seem designed to frighten were actually intending to extend grace. They were the ones most changed by the experience. Part of the grace of receiving gifts is allowing the gift-giver to be transformed. Thus, may we find the grace to be open to the gifts that strangers have to offer, and receive them with openness and gratitude! Amen

–

Rev. Sara E. Baron

First United Methodist Church of Schenectady

603 State St. Schenectady, NY 12305Pronouns: she/her/hers

http://fumcschenectady.org/

https://www.facebook.com/FUMCSchenectady

January 8, 2017

Sermons

“Justice-Seeking Mothers”based on 1 Samuel 2:1-10 and Luke 1:46b-55

December 11, 2016February 15, 2020
by Sara Baron

It
has been said about Mary, “No woman in scripture is more honored,
blessed as she was ‘above all women’ (Luke 1:42), and she holds an
iconic status shared by no other woman in Christianity. Through the
accounts of Jesus’ birth in Matthew and Luke, Mary is one of the
first biblical characters many children encounter. Along with Eve,
Mary is integral to shaping how Christians understand the nature of
womanhood and motherhood.”¹
What is said is true. Mary, along with Eve, has both shaped how
women are understood in Christianity AND the inverse: perceptions of
Mary (and Eve) are indicators of how Christianity is understanding
women. How Mary is seen is a bell-weather for how women are seen.
Cary Gibson, the author of the opening quote, also says, “Mary is a
container into which we pour ideas of what it means to be a woman. In
turn we then draw from her image ideas about our own womanhood.”²

Most
commonly, Mary is said to be meek and mild. Usually, it is her
subservience that sets her up as the ideal woman. The pedestal of
womanhood that Mary most frequently occupies as the ideal woman is
the pedestal of the selfless mother, the one who exists simply so her
son can exist. She’s faithful, sweet, and biddable. There is,
however, one issue with this common perception Mary: it completely
ignores the words of Mary found in the Gospel of Luke.

Now,
I’m not saying that I really think some literate scribe was following
Mary around during her pregnancy to record her insights for
posterity. However, I am saying we have a rather long monologue
attributed to Mary that defies the way she is most commonly defined.
The meek and mild ideal does not match the actual Gospel. The myths
around her are more about what Christian women have been told to be
than they are about the actual stories about and words of Mary.

Therefore,
it seems worth exploring the words attributed to Mary. Whether the
words are what Mary said, or something Mary could have said, or
simply what it made sense to someone that the Mother of Jesus WOULD
have said, they are attributed to her. Since the general perception
of Mary is based on 20 centenaries of trying to put women in their
place, and I’d prefer to get to know Mary as presented in the Gospel.
It may be that we can take a look at Mary-the-ideal-woman and get a
different answer about what it means to be an ideal woman.

For
starters, these words are not meek, nor mild. In fact, Cary Gibson
says Mary, “voiced a defiant and righteous hope in the face of
violence and injustice.”³
It is true. These words express a HARDCORE faith and a great ideal
for women to seek to live up to. 🙂 Men too. This is the sort of
faith we can all aspire to!

First
of all, Mary’s song is deeply rooted in her faith tradition. It
echoes Hannah’s song of celebration after Hannah fulfilled her
promise and brought her son Samuel to Eli to serve him as a priest.
It also echoes with phrases from the Psalms. The version of this
song that we have is a work of theological and scriptural brilliance
and sophistication. Hannah’s song is powerful, but reflects a less
mature faith. Hannah yearns for God to smash the powerful, deride
her enemies, and break the mighty. In her mind the powerless are
lifted up BY making the powerful small. There is violence in her
imagery, even as there is celebration of the goodness of God and of
her sense of becoming more significant in the world.

Mary’s
song, though, is not vengeful. She also speaks of lifting up the
poor and lonely. Like Hannah she speaks about God’s power, but she
also adds God’s mercy. Mary speaks of lowering the mighty, but the
lowering isn’t violent or dangerous for them: the proud are
“scattered in the thoughts of their hearts” which sounds like a
way to be more humble; the powerful step down from their thrones (but
she doesn’t suggest they’re harmed afterward); the rich are sent away
empty – as if they don’t need any more. Hannah had the the
formerly “full” “hire themselves out for bread.” Mary is
interested in lifting up the lowly and removing their oppression, not
in oppressing the oppressors. She is a actually meeker and milder
than Hannah, Hannah’s is pretty rough. Mary is simply less violent!

Hannah
speaks of her victory, Mary speaks of being treated with God’s favor.
While both are grateful for the child they are able to nurture, and
while both express incredible gratitude to God and deep theological
reflections, they have different energies. The insertion of material
from the Psalms into Hannah’s original poem changes it into a more
gracious piece. One scholar found that in addition to the source
material of Hannah’s poem, the song of Mary includes 7 pieces of
different Psalms, as well as a quote each from Deuteronomy, Job,
Micah, and Isaiah. By that scholar’s reckoning all of the words of
Mary’s song are attributable to Hebrew Bible quotations.⁴

Mary’s
song starts in the specific. She is grateful to be useful to God,
humbly aware of her status as a poor woman in her society, and
attentive to the change of her status because of God’s favor. She
attributes her life change to God’s greatness, and she praises God.
She expresses who God is: merciful,
consistent, strong, and powerful. She talks about a God who cares
about the lowly,
and feeds the hungry with GOOD food.
Her song makes another journey outward, celebrating God’s care for
all of the Jews and then attributing God’s care to God’s merciful
nature and God’s promises. She moves from celebrating God’s work for
her, to celebrating God’s work for the vulnerable, to celebrating
God’s work for all her people. It is as if she is expanding her
gratitude in increasingly wide circles.

While
it is unlikely to be factual, this text suggests that Mary knew her
scriptures well enough to combine them creatively into a truly
beautiful and majestic song celebrating God WITHOUT demeaning anyone
else. It suggests that her humility was real, but it wasn’t a form
of self-deprecation. It says she was genuinely honored to be able to
serve God and be useful in forming the world in God’s kindom of
shalom. She was delighted and amazed to be chosen. She recognized
the depth of the blessing she received, seemingly without thinking
that it made her more important than others. She said she was
blessed, and was amazed that people would remember her as blessed.
That indicates she didn’t think she’d done anything right or worthy,
it was God’s choice not her worthiness that mattered. Her gratitude
was expansive and celebratory and still focused on lifting up the
lowly and attentive to the hungry. She kept her head!

The
Mary of this song is wise, strong, compassionate, creative, humble,
and grateful. She knows and celebrates a God who is a fierce
advocate of justice. John Dominic Crossan and Marcus Borg, in their
book “The First Christmas” point out that each of the Gospels
start with a “Gospel in miniature” (with the possible exception
of Mark which starts at a gallop and just keeps going!). Luke 1 and
2, which likely do NOT represent authentic memories of things that
really happened, DO represent themes of the Gospel, understanding of
Jesus, foreshadowing of things to come, and ways to see how God is
known in the Gospel. Luke pays particular attention to women – as
we can see here where Mary gets a prolonged monologue – as well as
to the poor and vulnerable. We can also see that here in the words
Mary speaks. The writer of Luke, and/or the Christian tradition,
and/or the editors who came later attribute these words to Mary
largely to help those of us who came later to understand her son.

Now,
I don’t want anyone to think that I’m disparaging Hannah’s song. Her
song is FIERCE and profound, and reflects an era one whole millennia
before Mary’s. Hannah, as well, sought justice. She sought it for
herself and she sought it for all of God’s people. She understood God
to be one who cares about the poor, the hungry, the feeble, the
barren, the low, and the needy. That is a reflection of the unique
tradition of Judaism, from a pretty early time. Other ancient
peoples believed in god and goddesses. The Israelites were unique,
however, in believing in a God who cared about how they treated each
other, and in a God who cared about the people who had the least
power and influence. There is a constant tension in the Bible
between this belief – in a God who cares for the poor and lowly –
and the human tendency to prefer the rich and powerful. Hannah
reflects the God who cares for the poor and lowly without being
pulled toward the rich and powerful at all. Then Mary manages to
take it a step further and acknowledge a God who cares for everyone.
They sought justice, and believed in a God who wanted justice. This
is our radical tradition. This is the wonder of worshiping a God of
compassion.

Those
sons of those women took their justice-seeking natures and their
understandings of the God of Compassion, and changed the world. We
mostly know about the mothers because of the sons. Samuel anointed
kings. Jesus healed the sick, fed the hungry, ate with sinners, and
told parables that still confound us today. Both sons changed the
world. Both mothers are presented as sources of wisdom for their
sons. Their stories are preludes to their sons stories, and yet I am
so grateful that the Bible gives them voices and songs and stories!
They are not ONLY vessels through which their sons come to be, they
are interesting in their own right.

I
do wish for all of us to be able to be a bit like these justice
seeking mothers. And if we are going to hold up Mary as the ideal,
then I hope it takes the form of being moved to sing our gratitude
to God and celebrating the wonder of God’s good work in the world. I
hope we can become so steeped in our faith tradition that we can use
it in creative ways that bring more caring, compassion, and justice
to our tradition. I hope that we can see and name the goodness of
our lives without taking ourselves too seriously. And I do hope that
when push comes to shove we are more like Mary than like Hannah, and
that we can hope for the transformation of oppressors – not the
oppression of them. I hope we too can always remember the people of
God who are struggling the most, and find ways to help lift them up.
I hope we can be part of our tradition that remembers God as a God of
compassion for the least, the last, the lost and the lonely.

If
Mary is the ideal, and she seems to be well set up to be the ideal,
then let’s seek to be like her: fierce, grateful, and brilliant.
Amen

1
Cary Gibson, “Mary, Jesus’ Mother” in an email from The Common
English Bible send by Abingdon Press on December 2^nd,
2016.

2Ibid.

3Ibid.

4Joseph
A. Fitzmeyer “The Gospel According to Luke I-IX” in the The
Anchor Bible Series (Doubleday and Co.: Garden City, NY, 1981) p
356-357.

Rev. Sara E. Baron

First United Methodist Church of Schenectady

603 State St. Schenectady, NY 12305

Pronouns: she/her/hers

http://fumcschenectady.org/
https://www.facebook.com/FUMCSchenectady

December 11, 2016

Uncategorized

Silent Prayer

December 6, 2016
by Sara Baron

Silent Prayer

Sermons

“SILENT Prayer!?!”based on 1 Samuel 1:1-20

December 4, 2016February 15, 2020
by Sara Baron

Hannah may be the most well-behaved woman in this Subversive Women sermon series. In this story she expresses exemplary faith and devotion for God. She a common example used for the idea of “taking it to the Lord in prayer.” All in all, she feels like enough of a goody-two shoes to be the mother of the king-maker. As we see time and time again, when you hear a birth stories, you know that you are getting the story of someone important. When you hear about a barren woman in the Bible (much less a virgin 😉 ) you know you are hearing the beginning of the story of someone VERY important. The baby born to THIS barren woman will be the last of the judges, one of the great prophets, and the one to anoint kings Saul and David. This story seems designed to prove that he came from good stock.

To be honest, the Young Adult Bible study found her a little bit boring. Hannah is presented as a weeping mess, having internalizing the cultural narrative that her value was based on her ability to produce sons. She is one of two wives of reasonably wealthy man. (No poor man could afford two wives.) Their family goes to the holy place to worship once a year – not three like the really faithful families – but also not less than once. They’re moderately faithful Jews. She has a loving husband, which in and of itself makes her unusual in the Bible. She believes that God is in control of the world, and she seems to believe that a blessing by God’s priest will help her get what she wants. She makes a vow with very serious consequences: she wants a child so badly that she offers the child to God. (This is, of course, a promise she makes good on. She brings Samuel to Eli as soon as he is weaned and then sees him only once a year when she brings him new clothing.) She is a bit of a naive heroine: good, sweet, doing what she’s supposed to do, and sad because her society says she is worthless.

Despite the Young Adult Bible Study, there are a lot of interesting things going on in this story. They’re just hiding rather well! Are there any people in this room who immediately zone out when you hear genealogies – you know, like the one in the very first verse of this story? Me too. However, this one has a point! Hannah’s husband was of the clan Ephraim (one of Joseph’s sons). That is a Northern Tribe, which fits as this is a northern story set in the north. He was of that clan, as were the 5 generations before him. Which means he was NOT AT ALL a Levite. And the Levites were supposed to be the priests and holy men. The baby who will be born will be raised as if he is a priest, but he isn’t one. He is an insert into the holy man tradition. This is particularly relevant because Eli (a Levite) has sons who are corrupt priests, but the clan of Ephraim raises up a good priest. Things aren’t going as they should be. The system is broken.

Like the genealogy, the location has some hidden interest. The story is set in the Temple in Shiloh. Which would be a pretty boring detail except for one piece of historical knowledge: there is no Temple in Shiloh. Shiloh was a worship center, and there would have been official priests working there, but there was no Temple. The Temple would be build by David, who Samuel would make King – and it would be in the Southern Kingdom. This story has the fingerprints of later Southern editors on it, ones who couldn’t quite comprehend a worship space other than the Temple.

Now I mentioned that Hannah was a beloved spouse, which was a bit unique. The expressions of adoration from her husband are totally unique. He asks her why he isn’t worth 10 sons to her – which seems to imply that she’s worth 10 sons to him! Furthermore, he gives her the “double portion” to use in sacrifice. That’s odd. The double portion is the portion the eldest son inherits, where the younger sons each get only one. Hannah’s husband treats her as if she is as valuable to him as his eldest son and heir. He values her as she’d value her eldest son. He sees values in HER. This is particularly interesting because Hannah lacks value in her society. Women were meant to bear male children. That was what they were FOR, and from which their worth was derived. And Hannah didn’t. But her husband didn’t care. He appears to love her for HER, as she is. That may be a reason for some to be jealous of Hannah, but it surely doesn’t make boring. Because being loved can be so transformative in human life, I wonder how much of Hannah strength comes from her husband’s love. She may struggle with what she’s supposed to be (and isn’t) but she also has an internalized sense of self worth. Her husband might have been part of that.

This question of Hannah’s value comes up in her interaction with Eli. But first, we need to mention a few truly subversive things that happened before and during that interaction. First of all, she entered the holy space. I don’t know for sure how the worship space was used in Shiloh, but I do know that women weren’t let very far into the Jerusalem temple. For Hannah, even entering the holy space pushed the boundaries of what women were supposed to be doing. I’m also not sure how appropriate it would have been for Hannah to wander off on her own in public space. I suspect she broke the bounds of normalcy on that too. Then there is the fact that she prays SILENTLY and without a sound passing by her lips. We can tell by Eli’s response that her silence wasn’t standard for prayer.

Now, if Hannah was trying to elicit a response from God, and her deal making surely suggests she was, then why wasn’t she participating in prayer the way it was known to be practiced? Was she simply too focused and authentic in her prayer? I don’t think so! I think humans of any faith tradition are deeply enculturated on how to pray, and one wouldn’t be likely to break out of that in a moment of deep prayer. Instead, I wonder if she wanted to have a PRIVATE conversation with God. She went off by herself, she went into a sacred space that was mostly abandoned, and she spoke to God only in her heart. It seems possible that what she was saying was entirely too personal for anyone to know it. I suspect there was even some shame in it, as would be expected for a barren woman begging God to help her.

Hannah also makes a deal with God, which is not generally recommended, and she makes one of the more radical ones. Her family is moderately faithful. She offers her son as a livelong nazirite, which is UNHEARD OF. The holiest of holy men were nazirites for a year or two. But she offers. (And she does it! – Hannah is faithful to her promises.)

OK. So now we are on her conversation with Eli. Eli comes up and shames her for her despicable behavior – one that he projects onto her rather than one she has participated in. Hannah ANSWERED. She answered the high priest of that place, and she defended herself. She didn’t walk away in shame. She didn’t hang her head. She defended herself and her VALUE. She WAS a worthless woman by the standards she lived in. But she demands respect from the priest anyway. “‘No, my lord, I am a woman deeply troubled; I have drunk neither wine nor strong drink, but I have been pouring out my soul before the Lord. Do not regard your servant as a worthless woman, for I have been speaking out of my great anxiety and vexation all this time”

“I am not a worthless woman.” Am I the only one who wants to cheer for her??? Even better it works. Eli may have failed to identify authentic prayer, yet, he is willing to be corrected!! He’s really an OK guy and a good priest, even though me misses some major memos. Eli believes her. That is huge in and of itself, but he also responds to her with a blessing. The blessing clearly matters to her, it cheers her up, and the story seems to think it has to do with her later success in getting pregnant.

Hannah names her son, “God has heard” and says she does so because “I asked him of the LORD”. She sounds a bit like Hagar, naming God, “the God who sees” (even me.) Hannah, whose society has told her that she is worthless, has a partner who believes in her worth, and even with her internal struggles finds that she believes in her worth too. Then it is affirmed. It seems to me that by the time Hannah gets pregnant, she is already sure that she is of value in the world and in the eyes of God whether or not she has a child. In the end, I think that’s what is so subversive about Hannah – that she finds the way to claim her own worth, despite society! May we follow in her footsteps because we are much more useful to God when we realize that we are valuable – and of use in building the kindom. Amen

–

Rev. Sara E. Baron

First United Methodist Church of Schenectady

603 State St. Schenectady, NY 12305

Pronouns: she/her/hers

http://fumcschenectady.org/

https://www.facebook.com/FUMCSchenectady

December 4, 2016

Sermons

“Wanting Knowledge”based on Genesis 2:15-3:7

November 30, 2016February 15, 2020
by Sara Baron

Here
we are. Again. It is the beginning of the church year. Again. We
start anew with the stories. Again. For those among us who have not
attended to the church’s liturgical calendar before, I apologize. It
is a wonderful rhythm of life, and I hope you will be enriched by
living into it. Personally, I’ve been attending to the church’s
liturgical calendar for decades, and been leading worship in the
liturgical seasons for more than a decade and this is a year where
starting over again takes some energy.

The
last year hasn’t been easy AND there is fear of what will come in
this coming year. Often I’m frustrated with the rather depressing
texts that accompany Advent, I don’t want to start in the darkness.
This year I’m ready and willing to admit that there is much darkness
in the world and that I, too, yearn for the light of God to break in.
Ironic, isn’t it? This is the year I’m forgoing those depressing
Advent texts to continue the Subversive Women sermon series?

The
Subversive Women chosen for Advent are intentional though. I’ve
always loved the idea that we start the Christian year in unity with
our shared history with Jewish people, reliving the period in our
shared history when we waited for God’s messiah to change the course
of human history. I also love that we do this in a season of
darkness (for the Northern Hemisphere – I’m quite sad about how
poorly all the metaphors of the liturgical year work in the Southern
Hemisphere and struck that this is yet another experience we have of
privilege). Anyway, I love that we start the year in darkness, and
in the waiting, and in our shared history. I love that the quietness
of Advent contrasts with the frenetic pace of consumer culture around
us; creating a pause, a pregnant pause. Along with waiting with the
Jews, we also wait with Mary in the last month of her pregnancy.

That
is, I really love Advent. And it is with delight that I offer you
this text for us to play with today. What better way to start the
Christian year and re-start the telling of our faith story than to go
back to one of the stories of creation? And, what better place to
start than the woman called “life” itself, Eve? (Yes. Eve means
“life.” Subtle, huh?) After all, she has been accused of
ruining human life on this planet in multiple ways, so she MUST be at
least a little subversive.

This
is an old, old story. It is in the voice of the Yahwehist, the
oldest of the four voices found in the Torah. It is a story trying
to make sense of the world as it is, and there are a lot of
explanations going on. It is trying to make sense of the human need
for interpersonal relationships. It is trying to make sense of human
capabilities exceeding that of other creatures. It is trying to make
sense of the labor necessary to stay alive. It is trying to make
sense of the experience of separation from God. It is trying to make
sense of the power of love. It is trying to make sense of the human
desire for knowledge.

I’m
not sure it succeeds at any of these tasks, but I appreciate noticing
that these huge questions of why things are the way they are was
already bugging people thousands of years ago, and they were
struggling to find answers just as we are today. The existence of
the questions they were trying to answer makes me feel more united
with the tellers of this story than the story itself does. Which
isn’t the story’s fault. It could be a perfectly adorable myth if it
hadn’t been used to support the subjugation of women and the
Christian obsession with “sin.” However, it has been, which
makes me squirm all over again when I read it.

Two
and a half years ago I preached on this text and explained in detail
a theory of it that had changed everything for me. To my delight,
when we got to this text in our Bible Study, people remembered that
theory – it changed everything for them too! Some of you were here
then to hear it, and some weren’t, so I’m going to split the
difference and briefly share the theory again.¹

In
the Ancient Near Eastern people believed that you could either be
immortal or reproductive. Furthermore, sexuality was linked to
reproduction, THUS it was linked to mortality. If you are going to
live forever, you don’t need to have children as your legacy, and you
don’t need to be a sexual being. If you are mortal, and you are
going to die, you get to have children. This was a common motif in
Ancient Near East stories (this is the area that the ancient Jews
were from). None of the garden narratives in the Ancient Near East
have any children in them. Gardens are places for IMMORTAL, ASEXUAL
beings. Eating from the tree of the knowledge of good and evil
transformed Adam and Eve from being immortal, asexual beings into
mortal, sexual beings.

You
might notice that the text says directly, they were naked but “not
ashamed,” which indicates they didn’t have sexual awareness of
their own bodies to begin with. As the wise Catholic priest who
pointed this out said, before eating, Eve and Adam seem to be “zero
on the passion meter.” Sexuality is activated ONLY when they ate
of the tree. The tree of the knowledge of good and evil is really
the center of it all. What do we know of it?

Forbidden
for some reason
It
makes one like God (3:5) “like one of us” (3:22)
Eyes
are opened and see nakedness (sexual awareness)
makes
one wise (3:6)
connects
with punishment
It
produces a concern that the one possessing it not live forever.

What
else do we know about the phrase “knowledge of good and evil”
from the Bible? Deuteronomy 1:39 teaches us it is something that
children lack, Isaiah 7 calls it a sign of maturity. From 1 Q
Samuel 1:9-11 (Dead Sea Scrolls) “He will not approach a woman to
have intercourse with her until he has attained the age of twenty
when he knows good and evil.” Hmm, this is clearly about sex. In
2 Samuel 19:36 An old man is being invited in for wine, women, and
song. He responds “I’m 80…. and no longer potent, deaf, and not
experiencing the joy of food.” …. also “knowledge of good and
evil” as something an old man loses.

So,
sexual potency, sexual maturity, sexual appetite seem to be implied
here! Then, the tree is an aphrodisiac. The premier aphrodisiac in
fact, as it brought the humans from zero sexual appetite to “normal”
rather than from weak appetite to stronger appetite. This is a story
of awakening to normal sexuality. In that case, the serpent is a
fertility symbol offering this knowledge. After this story, Eve
called mother of all things! It is because of the eating of the
fruit of the tree that all other humans exist, within the framework
of this story. And all hearers of the story in all times should be
grateful to her for eating it! So, then, why was the tree forbidden?
Because immortals do not beget.

Given
this new understanding of the tree, the
punishments about pain in childbirth, and man lording over woman,
FIT. There is no fall, as much as Paul and others have made of it,
and there is no original sin. The couple is making a journey UPWARD:
they become aware, wise, and mature in full adult human stature.

They
started off like children and come into full adult status.
Isn’t
that an interesting creation story? It is a story that tells how we
became reproductively capable, sexually aware, adult humans. This
creation story includes the creation of future generations of humans.
It is a much more interesting story than it initially appears,
right? Personally, I’m rather grateful that they ate of the fruit
and gained sexual maturity because within the constructs of the
story, NO OTHER HUMANS would otherwise exist, and I rather like
existing.

A
few other notes on this story, particularly for those who have heard
it used in other ways. Adam (whose name means both “human” and
“dirt”) and Eve (whose name means “life” and “life-bearer”)
were in the garden together and the serpent speaks to Eve while
Adam is also present.
Only Adam is told NOT to eat of the tree, and yet when Eve responds
to the serpent she assumes that it applies to her as well AND she
strengthens the command. The first version was “of
the tree of the knowledge of good and evil you shall not eat, for in
the day that you eat of it you shall die”. Eve tells it like this,
“God said, ‘You shall not eat of the fruit of the tree that is in
the middle of the garden, nor shall you touch it, or you shall die.’”
She adds the touch. Isn’t that how humans work? When we really
want to keep a rule, we make rules around the rule in order to make
keeping the rule easier.

Eve
is aware of the risk, but the serpent tells her, “You will not die;
for God knows that when you eat of it your eyes will be opened, and
you will be like God, knowing good and evil,” AND she looks with
her own eyes. She sees that “the tree was good for food, and that
it was a delight to the eyes, and that the tree was to be desired to
make one wise.” She listens to the serpent AND she takes in
awareness from her surroundings, and she decides that risking death
is worth having knowledge (and sexual maturity, let’s be clear). It
is almost as if she is a prepubescent girl choosing to become a
woman: there are big trade offs in that choice, but there is goodness
in being an adult.

In
this week that we celebrated Thanksgiving, taking days apart to be
grateful, and remembering a shared meal between generous native
people and overwhelmed frightened immigrants, it is worth remembering
this ancient story being grateful to Eve who is said to have chosen
knowing, and growing up, so we all can exist. We can also be
grateful to Eve and her choice throughout Advent as we wait for
Mary’s baby to come. All of the babies who have been born, within
the constructs of this story, exist because Eve chose knowledge and
maturity over staying in the dark. We take her light into these dark
days. Amen

Sermon
Talkback Questions

How
else do you think about Advent?

Where
else do you notice the contrasts of light and darkness, and what
meaning do you make out of them?

What
do you do to avoid being pulled into the frenetic pace of consumer
Christmas, and back into the quiet reflection of Advent?

Whether
you heard this theory before or not, how does it change your
relationship to this story – and to Adam and Eve?

Personally
I like the idea of Eve considering the serpents ideas, taking in
awareness of her surroundings, and deciding for herself that
knowledge was worth it. How does her thoughtful consideration
change the story?

What
does it mean to be grateful for sexual maturity, and to consider our
creation myth to be about that?

How
does God’s love get reflected in this story?

—

1 What
follows is reworked from “The Garden: We Have it ALL Wrong”
preached on 3/9/2014. That knowledge came from Father Addison
Wright during a lecture series at “Ecumenical Scripture Institute”
at Sky Lake in 2011 on the first 11 Chapters of Genesis.

Rev. Sara E. Baron

First United Methodist Church of Schenectady

603 State St. Schenectady, NY 12305Pronouns: she/her/hers

http://fumcschenectady.org/
https://www.facebook.com/FUMCSchenectady

November 27, 2016