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“Hope” based on Genesis 16:7-13 and Luke 1:26-38

  • November 27, 2022
  • by Sara Baron

This Advent
starts with annunciations – announcements to two women of what life
they are bringing forth into the world.  These are told as God’s
mighty acts, the ways God impacts the world through these women and
their sons.  They set up the anticipation of Advent  – a knowing of
what is coming, an awareness that it is not here yet, and some rather
significant worries about the journey from here to there.  

The
two stories today are united not only by the announcements they
contain, nor the scared young women, nor the extraordinary sons they
will have.  In a way we might not have noticed before, the stories
are united by slavery.

Hagar
IS enslaved.  Mary’s response to God, once it is translated without
attempting to soften it, is  “Here am I, the woman-slave of God;
let it be with me according to your word.”
This response reminds me that Mary was a vulnerable girl, one who was
responding to the STATEMENT (not question or request) from a Powerful
God of what would happen to her.  

Does Mary respond, “I have no
power here, so do what you wish”? Or “I am willing?”  Would it
matter?  The messenger had told her what would be, not asked her if
she was willing.  The response that says, “I am a woman-slave of
God” could be humility and respect, or a desire not to be killed
for disagreeing.  Mary is written into a no win situation.  To say no
to God, when a direct messenger is sent, is known to be a bad idea.
(Yet, many of us do it regularly with only continued nagging to pay
for it… so, there is that.)  To agree to a pregnancy while engaged
and not sleeping with one’s fiance is to become eligible for stoning.
It would be proof of adultery.  

Mary’s response says she is
God’s slave.  Hagar’s life is one of a slave.  These are not the same
thing, but the connection between should be unsettling.  

Hagar
is enslaved.  She is enslaved and endures both physical and sexual
violence.  Before our story begins, she runs away into the
wilderness, which means she was deciding to die rather than endure
more.  Yet, in the wilderness, by spring of water which meant life
could continue, Hagar had an encounter with the Divine.  (She is the
first woman to do so, also the first woman to be told directly she
will bear a child…. one of only three.)  She is addressed, by name,
by the Holy Messenger.  She is told what will happen.

And,
she is told to return to the violence she had run from.  Further,
she is told that the
violence she experiences will become the legacy of the child she
bears, who will struggle against those he will call kin, as well
those who come after him.  (This is an ancestor story, where the
ancestors serve as symbols for the people who claim their names.)
Then Hagar NAMES God, which is a HUGE deal, and calls God, “The God
who sees me.”   Ishmael’s name mean’s God hears.

These indicate a powerful
blessing experience.  These indicate she took hope from this
encounter.  She feels seen, and heard.  Now, of course, an experience
of the Divine IS a blessing, and would be one that she couldn’t have
expected.  EVEN THOUGH she gets sent back to slavery, back to
violence, back to abuse, Hagar calls God, “God who sees me” and
calls her son, “God hears.”

Phew.

I find myself wishing God had
changed things for her, not just sent her back to the same situation
as a slave, experiencing violence.  Yet, I cannot dismiss the power
of her experience.  It wasn’t perfect, it didn’t end with happily
ever after.  Oppression, even, continued.  And, for Hagar, there was
hope.  

But, hope is sturdier than
perfection.  Hope is grounded.  Hope is real and faces the world as
it is.  Hope doesn’t require fairy tale endings, it means us where we
are.  

This is good, because if only
people who know no oppression can have hope, few people could.

Hagar’s story isn’t particularly
unique.  Many people have been enslaved in human history, including
to this day.  Many people have experienced sexual violence.  Many
people have been forced into marriages where sex is expected, but not
truly consented to.  I fear that most women in history can identify
with Hagar.

And yet, there has been hope.

Hagar’s pregnancy was
complicated.  I think maybe Mary’s was too.  And, the Bible says,
their pregnancies changed the world for the better.  We needed
Ishmael.  We needed Jesus.  We needed them raised by their mothers,
who had particular wisdom, particular faith, particular experiences
of the Divine, particular gifts.

This idea of a complicated
pregnancies, ones that threatened the life and well-being of the
mother, ones that changed the course of history, THESE are stories of
Advent.

These are stories of things NOT
being as they should be.

These are stories of waiting for
God to act to make things better.

Hagar felt blessed by her
encounter.  A miracle here is that the people who wrote the book
understood themselves to be Issac’s descendants, but they wrote the
story of Ishmael’s mother.  And they admitted the wrong done to her.
And they thought of her as blessed.  And they perceived in her
experiences of God, EVEN THOUGH they thought of her descendants as
their enemies.  That has a sense of the hand of God in the telling of
the stories to me.  That’s not generally how we tell the stories, the
way the victor’s narrative reigns.

Whatever Mary’s experience of
her pregnancy was, I still believe that the life and faith of Jesus
were formed by his family, and his mother.  And somewhere along the
line I do believe she had profound experiences of God, and was able
to teach them to her son.

Hagar and Mary were people with
limited choices.  These women were on the margins, their sons were on
the margins, but their sons ALSO cared for others on the margins and
in doing so changed human history.  Even encounters with God didn’t
make everything better.  But being HEARD, being SEEN, being CHOSEN,
mattered.  It gave them hope.  It gave them meaning.  It gave them
strength.  

And, I believe, it gave their
sons compassion.  And I note, as well, the power of being heard,
seen, and loved.

That’s another of those weird
things about real hope.  It can take the hard, the horrible, the
ugly, the painful, even the traumatic, and work with it.  Real hope
doesn’t require a pristine, hygienic, sterile environment.  It meets
us where we are, just like God.  And it works from here.  

Hagar being enslaved was not OK.
It has never been OK for any human who was enslaved. And, those who
have lived as enslaved people still had hope.  They had hope for the
end of slavery. They had hope things wouldn’t always be that way.  

Some had hope of escape.  Some
had hope of little moments of connection or compassion with others.
Many had hope in God, the one who never stops caring no matter how
hard things get.

And, changes are pretty high the
mother of Jesus didn’t get pregnant after choosing her marital
partner, experiencing desire, and consenting to intercourse.  This,
too, is not OK.  And, this too happened to many, many, many women.
It continues to happen.  It is not OK.  But it isn’t the end of hope.

I
am now preaching after the most recent attack on the LGBTQIA+
community in the form of a gunman attacking Club Q in Colorado
Springs.  The attack was less deadly than it might have been because
of the actions of a vet and a drag queen, who took down the gunman.
Thank God they stopped him.  And yet 5 people are dead, 19 are
injured, and once again the safety and sanctity of the club has been
violated.  Trauma abounds.  Grief abounds.  The sickening reality of
the danger of being queer or trans is affirmed.  The still present
horrors from the similar attack on Pulse Nightclub are resurgent.

And I wonder about this sticky,
sturdy, real hope I’m talking about.  What does it even look like?
Is this a hope that someday our children will be able to dance in
peace?   Is this a hope that maybe one person who might commit
violence like that could receive love in ways that prevent it?  Is it
a hope that reasonable gun laws might make these shootings harder
accomplish?  

Cause I still want hope to look
perfect.  I want it to be that there is NO more violence against
queer and trans people ever again.  I want an end to gun violence,
and an end to violence.  I want clubs to thump and throb with music,
never again interrupted by gun fire.  I want veterans to come home
without PTSD, and not need to position themselves to see exits, and
not be needed to stop shooters.  Ok, I want there to be no need for
veterans.

And, I’m struck by both God and
hope being more willing to be in this reality than I am.  To know the
brokenness we live in, and not give up.  To see how hard things are,
to see how interconnected the struggles are, and not be overcome.  To
know the grief, the heartache, the violation, the trauma, and not let
it be the only or the final word.

Our God is a God who sees.

A God who hears.

And a God of hope.  

God calls us from this world of
violence into the kindom of peace.  God gives us gifts of peace, love, joy, and hope.
God calls us to be peace-makers, love-sharers, joy-spreaders,
hope-increasers.  May we receive and act on God’s call.  May this
Advent be a time of quiet transformation so that what God is growing
us may soon break forth.  Amen

November 27, 2022

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

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“Rejoice” based on Deuteronomy 26:1-11 and Philippians 4:4-9

  • November 20, 2022
  • by Sara Baron

I think gratitude is one of the
most important parts of our spiritual lives.  I’ve experienced this,
AND I’ve seen the research, and I love it when both are true.

The challenge is, I’m not sure
what I have to say about gratitude that is new, and I’m rather afraid
of being trite.   This tends to be my problem when I encounter
scriptures I rather agree with, rather than ones I can have a good
debate with.  But, I’ve found time and time again that a conversation
with scriptures can take me to unexpected places, so let’s see where
they lead today.

We can start with Philippians.
With that lovely repetition to “Rejoice in the Lord always, again I
will say, Rejoice.” (4:4)  I am always moved by the people I meet
who are living out this commandment. The ones attending to the good
God is doing, and speaking it with joy.  The ones focused on joy, and
rejoicing, and celebrating God’s goodness.  

I also love the next line,
inviting people to “let your gentleness be known.”  That sounds
like the highest of callings, to be known by gentleness.  I have
known some people to whom that description would apply, and it is a
gift simply to be in their presence.  Their very self-hood changes
the world around them for the better.

But then we get to “don’t
worry, trust God.”  And while it is very good advice, it is very
difficult to apply.  Especially because the world isn’t fair.  But
then again, those who I’ve known who live this are often the ones
with the least amount of worldly goods, who say they trust God
because God has provided.  So, maybe I don’t actually know that much
about this, and I simply have a lot to learn.

Then, focus on the good.  This
is the one that meets me where I am right now. This is the one
that calls for my attention, my reflection, my sharing.  So, here we
are and here we are going to stay.  In Paul’s words, “Finally,
beloved, whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just,
whatever is pure, whatever is pleasing, whatever is commendable, if
there is any excellence and if there is anything worthy of praise,
think about these things.” (4:8)

Maybe it is because of the work
I do, but it often occurs to me that the resource I spend the most
time managing is my attention.  This isn’t just about if I give my
attention to the good stuff or the hard stuff.

The daily questions start with:
Do I respond first to this email, or that one?  To email or phone
calls?  To texts or facebook messenger?  Do I end this conversation
because I have a meeting, or do I make space for this because it is
more important?  When do I know I’ve found the right poem, or hymn,
or sermon example and it is time to move on, or maybe it isn’t good
enough yet and I could keep searching.  Which book should I read
next?  Do I have time to read?  Should I go visiting?  Which
committee asked me which thing to follow up on?  Which one of those
things needs the most immediate response?  Which one of those things
will take the most preparation?  Is reading the news important so I
know what is going on, or is it a distraction to what is REALLY going
on with God and God’s people?  Do all of the staff have what they
need from me to do their jobs well?  Is it OK to just sit and be with
God before I try to balance any of these things?

(If you found that list
overwhelming, please note that it applies ONLY to my work life, and
doesn’t even touch on other parts of my life.  Also, if you found
that overwhelming, I’d appreciate knowing how you make such
decisions, cause it sounds like you may have wisdom I need.)

That last question about
sitting with God and just being before I try any of the things,
that’s the key one for me.  I’ve known since my early twenties
that I’m at my best when I get quiet time with God, but I’ve
struggled to allow myself to have the thing I need when other things
also clamor for my time and attention.  Someone recently asked me,
“if I already know what I need in order to be the best pastor and
person I can be, why am I not doing it?”  And in the question,  I
was thus reminded that connecting with God, and being centered, is
the thing that makes all the rest of what I do valuable, and it is in
EVERYONE’S best interest for me  to nurture my connection with the
Holy and to have space to hear my own wisdom (even when the wisdom is
hidden under my fears.)

So, I’ve been doing it.  Not
perfectly, but waaaayyyy more.  Sometimes I still feel guilty.
Because I could be using my time and attention for so many other
things!  But, I’m pushing through the guilt.

And the results have been
interesting.  Mostly because my capacity to see the beauty of the
world, the wonder of people, and the mysterious goodness at hand has
changed.  Being quiet in the morning (most mornings), softens me.  It
slows me down.  And it makes things easier.  I’m get hurt less
easily.  I have empathy closer at hand.  I can see details and the
big picture, at the same time, with more ease.  I’m just less
overwhelmed.

But the best part is being able
to see wonder again.  I’m awed by text messages from people, because
they so often contain wisdom and I’m able to be thankful.  The other
day – please don’t judge – I saw a dust particle floating in a
stream of sunshine and it was beautiful, and I had ENTIRELY forgotten
that dust can be awe inspiring and beautiful.  I’m a little more
flexible (don’t expect immediate miracles people), which makes
everything flow easier in … well, parenting, and being a partner,
and in being a pastor.  

image

For me, the key to being able to
bring my attention to “whatever is true, whatever is honorable,
whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is pleasing, whatever is
commendable, if there is any excellence and if there is anything
worthy of praise” isn’t in just trying harder to focus on
the good things.  For me, at least, the way to bring my attention to
the good is to attend to what I need to be whole, and then the rest
flows.

Now, some of you are great at
letting yourselves have the things you need.  I commend you, and
apologize for this mostly useless sermon as far as you are concerned.
However, for a wide range of reasons (including “capitalism”) a
whole lot of us aren’t great at letting ourselves have what we need.
Sometimes there are external factors that make it hard (or
impossible.)  But often, there are  internal ones.  I can tell you
that I believe God wants you to have your needs met.  I can tell you
that if you stop fighting what you need as too much, or too selfish,
or unreasonable, or … whatever you tell yourself… that other
goodness flows from letting yourself get what you need.

Now, I continue to believe I’m
likely not alone in needing quiet time with God, but I also think
that my need is a little different than other people’s.  This week I
was given the gift of a GREAT descriptor of this church as a group of
people who love kinetic prayer.  That is, many of us around here NEED
to give back.  Some people NEED to hear gorgeous music and just feel
the wonder of it in their bodies.  Some people NEED to move in nature
or their souls start to shrivel up.  Some people NEED connections
with others, regularly.  (I think we all do, but more so for
extroverts.) Some people NEED to create.  I can’t tell you what you
need, but I suspect you already know.  

The key is to let God help you
whittle away at the internal barriers to allowing yourself to
prioritize what you need.  

So, a quick hot take on
Deuteronomy.  This is the story of God giving the people what they
need.  Land to work, food to eat, homes to settle into.  And the
people give back to God of what they have.  That is, they RECIEVE the
gifts of God, and they give back from what they have RECIEVED.

Maybe I’m wrong, and maybe it’s
just me, and if so I’m sorry for wasting your time but I’m really
happy for you.  That is, maybe I’m the only one still struggling to
receive God’s good gifts, and let myself have what I need.  If not
though.  If you still struggle too, may this be a moment of
assurance.  We have to receive what God gives us before we do
anything else with it.  It is hard, TRUST ME I KNOW, but God wants
goodness for you.

Please don’t stand in God’s way.

And when you let God’s good
gifts fill you up, the gratitude comes on its own.  And it is
amazing.  May you see it too.  Amen

November 20, 2022

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

Uncategorized

“Passing Faith Down Generations” based on Psalm 145:1-5, 17-21…

  • November 6, 2022
  • by Sara Baron

“One
generation shall laud your works to another and shall declare your
mighty acts.”  So says the Psalm, so say our lives.  When I have
had the opportunity to ask people about their lives of faith, they
are NEVER solo journeys.  Many stories talk about a parent or
grandparent who was a faithful person, and brought a young child
along to church.  Many others talk about a loving person found in
adulthood, and inviting them along.  Every person I’ve talked to
shares about experiences of love and affirmation in the church they
found, and the people they looked up to, and the joy they found among
the saints.  People don’t come to church JUST because they love God.
Loving God happens everywhere.  People are part of the Body of Christ
because other people in the Body of Christ have shown them the love
of God and how it can transform a life.

“One
generation shall laud your works to another and shall declare your
mighty acts.”  When you think about those people in your life, the
ones who taught you not only that God is good but also that the
community of faith is able to teach you about love and good living,
joy and the delight of service – HOW did they teach you?  

Around
here, I think, the teaching is often indirect.  Or perhaps I should
say embodied.  It sounds more like, “I love sharing love this way,
wanna come” then “let me tell you the story of how God has acted
in my life.”  Inviting people along is GREAT.  Also, I often think
we probably should share those stories of God-moments too though.  I
think we have them, but God-stories are pretty tender, and not always
terribly coherent, and don’t always translate well to words, and more
often than not they’re a little weird.  Because God doesn’t tend to
adhere to cultural norms of acceptable behavior.  And we don’t always
want to trust just anyone with experiences like that.

(It
starts to become clear how it is that so many Bible stories are
written in metaphor, because experiences of God just don’t
communicate well any other way.)

But
I wonder if some of the saints we remember today DID trust us with
their stories.  Maybe those stories are worth passing down.  And I
wonder what would happen if we shared with each other our stories.  I
suspect we’d be doing even a little better with the description “One
generation shall laud your works to another and shall declare your
mighty acts.”

Now
that I’ve made you squirm a bit – reminding you to share your
stories of God-moments and also passing on the ones you’ve heard, I’m
going to go to Ephesians are look at the other way of doing it.  The
one we are better at around here, which is also the way faith has
been transferred around here most often.  As he often does, Paul
writes to the Ephesians and starts by thanking them for their faith.
The starts of his letters are always filled with gratitude, this one
is quite lovely, “ I have heard of your faith in the Lord Jesus and
your love toward all the saints, and for this reason I do not cease
to give thanks for you as I remember you in my prayers.”

Our
faith in God, our following of Jesus, is expressed in how we share
our love with others.  Paul is happy to hear they are filled with
love, and says that means he can see their faith.

There
is some nuance here that I struggle with a little.  Paul says he
hears of their love “towards all the saints” and there is no
question in the context of Ephesians that “all the saints” means
the believers of Jesus.  That is, the early church.  That is, NOT
everyone.  Just the insiders.

In
first century context, this makes sense.  The church was small, weak,
and under attack.  Supporting each other had to come first to
survive, and fairly radical sharing of resources within the followers
of Christ was normal.  The church modeled the kindom of God, but on a
small scale.  

The
church was not yet  a part of the power structure of society, nor the
status quo.  There weren’t clergy, and they didn’t have special
privileges or tax benefits.  No one had a non-profit designation.

So,
I guess it makes sense that the love was first for the followers of
Christ.  It is also true that many, many, MANY of the followers of
Christ were the people struggling most in the world.  So by offering
care to insiders, God’s vulnerable were being cared for.  

I
struggle to bring this into the 21st century because it is
such a deep both/and, and it requires nuance and care.  I think we
still need to share love with each other, and I am willing to say we
have to do that FIRST.  Because unless we ground each other in God’s
love, we stand on shaky ground.  Because unless we ground each other
in God’s love, we miss out on the shared gifts of the whole.  Because
unless we ground each other in  love, we aren’t sharing God.

AND,
at exactly the same time, the love has to extend beyond “the
communion of saints” beyond the walls of the church, beyond the
faith community.  Because NOW we are a known part of society, now we
have members with power and authority in the world, now we have
privilege and respect, and we need to use it to care for God’s
beloveds, especially those who are vulnerable.  

I’ve
been oddly excited about the new program structure we’re putting into
place in January, because it actually does this.  In addition to the
Worship Committee – which aims to help people connect with God in
community, and the Intersectional Justice committee – which aims to
help people advocate for the vulnerable and understand the ways the
world works so better advocacy can happen – we’re adding TWO new
committees that I think balance them out.  Spiritual Formation aims
to help people connect with the Divine as individuals. And Nurturing
Relationships aims to help people connect with each other.  That is,
to increase the love between the saints. AND to help us experience
God and tell those stories.  It is almost as if it is both parts of
the scriptures we’re playing with today.

We
are trusted with the stories of the Saints who came before us, to
hold in our hearts, and to share when we can.  We are trusted with
the faith of the Saints who came before us, to pass it on to the next
generations.  We are trusted with the love of the Saints who came
before us, to share it in the church and in the  world.  We are
trusted with the resources of the Saints who came before us, to
combine with our own resources to use them to build the kindom of
God.

What
legacies we have from those who came before us.  May God help us to
pass along what we hold to those who will come after us.  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

November 6, 2022

Uncategorized

“Joy and Protest” based on  Psalm 98:1-6, Isaiah 55:10-13

  • October 30, 2022
  • by Sara Baron

“You shall go out with joy, and be
led forth with peace, the mountains and the hills will break forth
before you, there will be shouts of joy, and all the tress of the
field shall clap (shall clap) their hands.”  So goes our final hymn
today, and so has gone our stewardship campaign this year.

Isaiah 55 for the win.

Joy!

Peace!

Imaginatively imagery of pure delight!

So,  I went to Walter Brueggemann to
understand better what is going on, and the great Prophetic Scholar
did not disappoint.  He reminded me that Isaiah 40, the start of
second Isaiah, begins with
the words, “Comfort, O comfort my people, says your God.  Speak
tenderly to Jerusalem.”  The entirety of the passage is written to
the exiles, with affirmation that God is not done with them yet.

That while the worst has come, it will
not be their whole story.  That when things get hard, God still wins.
That God’s love remained with them, and hope continued.

Our passage today is the very last part
of what scholars call 2nd Isaiah – this part of the book
written to the exiles to PREPARE them for God’s work of restoration.
And today’s passage imagines the joy of their homecoming.  The
passage ties together some of the work of the exodus with the work of
restoration.  The rain and snow that can be counted on to produce
crops remind the people of the desert wandering, and God’s
provisions.  The verb even “go out” is a verb of the exodus.  But
here, in the “2nd exodus” it is quite different.  The
first exodus was hasty and fearful.   But the restoration, this “new
exodus” is joy, peace, and well-being.

Bruggemann writes, “Before there can
be any geographical departure from the [Bablyonian] empire, there
must be a liturgical, emotional, and imaginative departure.  Israel
in exile must be able to think and feel and imagine its life out
beyond Babylon’s administration.  Israel must so trust the rhetoric
of assurance and victory that it can flex its muscles of faith and
sense that the cadences of faith are more compelling than the slogans
of the empire.”1

And, this is that imaginative
departure.  It imagines creatures and … well, mountains and hills
and trees gathered on the roadside to watch the spectacle of the
people returning.  As if it is a parade and nature itself is
healed by the
restoration of the people to their homeland.

Instead of thorn and brier – symbols
of judgment and punishment – there are cypress and myrtle – signs
of growth and life and beauty.  The restoration of ancient Israel is
envisioned to be the restoration of sustainable living, of the fair
distribution of goods, the return of the ban on interest, the care
for the vulnerable.  And that means the restoration of God’s values,
which was very significant for people who had been living in the seat
of power of a large empire because empires ALWAYS involve domination,
hierarchies, debt, and oppression of the vulnerable.  Brueggeman
suggests even creation itself would be healed by this restoration
because empire destroys nature, but sustainable equitable living
exists in harmony with nature.  

If it takes dreaming of leaving the
exile in order to prepare the people to actually leave the exile,
this is some excellent writing getting them ready.  This is writing
for life.  This is writing to remind us that life is possible, that
loveliness exists, that hope is reasonable.  As Brueggemann says, in
this writing, “All are now at home, safe, beloved, free, free at
last, Thank God Almighty, free at last.”

As rain and snow leave the sky, to
bring life on earth, and grow food so too is it with God’s word that
accomplishes what it aims at – and it aims at joy, peace, and
restoration.  

In order to be ready to leave the
empire, to leave the exile, to return, to be restored, the people
needed first to dream God’s dreams.  And God sent them dreams.

Before they could leave in fact, they
had work of letting go – I love his phrasing, “there must be a
liturgical, emotional, and imaginative departure.  Israel in exile
must be able to think and feel and imagine its life out beyond
Babylon’s administration.”

I preached a few weeks ago about how
ready I am to NOT resonate with exile literature, and that does mean
that I’m pretty excited to hear “end of the exile, beginning of the
return literature.”  But I keep noticing that leaving the exile
meant not only leaving the exile but ALSO leaving behind the
pre-exile-ancient-Israel.  

Which is to say, I’m all for starting
to vision a post-pandemic life, but I have to keep reminding myself
that to leave the pandemic behind also means finishing the work of
letting go of the pre-pandemic life.  It means seeing with clarity
what has changed, and not FIGHTING it anymore.  It means accepting
this reality as it is, so that God can dream with me and with us HERE
AND NOW without my too-tight-grip on the past keeping me from
listening.

And, to be honest to these passages, it
also means making more space for joy.

Loosening my grip on what was helps me
make space for joy.  Even, loosening my grip on what joy USED TO look
like makes space for how it looks now.  And generally speaking,
loosening my grip  helps with joy 😉

The thing I’ve noticed about joy, the
continuity of it, is that for me is about connection.  I find joy in
connecting with others, in connecting with God, in connecting with
nature.  That is, joy happens in togetherness – at least for me.

Which is probably why I’ve been so
moved by our stewardship campaign this year, “Together for joy.”
I simply adore the order of the words.  For me, I know joy comes in
togetherness, but I love the INTENTION in being together FOR joy.

It is another wonderful take on the
Psalm:

Make a joyful
noise to the Lord, all the earth;
   break forth
into joyous song and sing praises.
Sing praises to the Lord with
the lyre,
   with the lyre and the sound of melody.

With trumpets and the sound of the horn
   make
a joyful noise before the King, the Lord.

The normal take is the wonder of making
music to praise God, but I love adding to that meaning by seeing each
of our lives as a piece of the music and our lives together as
creating that joyful noise!  

In many churches, today is Reformation
Sunday, the day when they remember the initial act of Martin Luther
in nailing the 95 thesis on the church door and starting the
Reformation.  We are, curiously enough, a part of Protestantism, but
direct descendants of the Reformation.   Lutheran, Presbyterian,
Reformed, and even most Baptist churches descend from the
Reformation, but we split off of the Church of England, which itself
split from the Roman Catholic Church for rather different reasons.
(The king wanted a divorce, the pope didn’t grant one, so the king
nationalized the church.)  

Our roots are not in the reformation,
but our identity is in Protestantism.  That is, by nature, we PROTEST
the abuses of the church and the world and advocate for God’s people.
Thanks be to God!  We are active in the face of injustice, and we are
actively seeking God’s kindom (although, to be fair, this is true of
more people than protestants, so we claim this but not exclusively.)

We are, together for justice, together
for joy, together for compassion.  We witness the mountains and the
hills breaking forth before us, and the trees of the field clapping
their hands.  

Dear ones, God leads us TO joy.  God
leads us to PEACE.  Not just for ourselves, for all people, but for
ourselves too.  We are blessed with the joy of being together, and we
are together for joy.  Thanks be to God!  Amen

1Walter
Brueggemann, Isaiah 40-66, Louisville,
Kentucky: Westminster John Knox Press, 1998), p 162.

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

October 30, 2022

Uncategorized

“Pride vs. Humility?” based on Psalm 84:1-7 and Luke…

  • October 23, 2022
  • by Sara Baron

My
favorite seminary class was “Prayer in the Christian Tradition”
and it was kind like a lab class for prayer.   We prayed a lot, in a
lot of different ways, and then we reflected on it.  We read books
about what other people thought of as prayer, and we discussed it,
and then we tried it, and we reflected on it, and then we discussed
it again.  We learned about prayer types, and we had time to assess
which prayer types we tended towards and which ones… well, drove us
nuts.

Most
of the prayer in that class would have qualified as “contemplative
prayer”, in that it sought to be a means of opening ourselves to
God.  Generally speaking I think of contemplative prayer as being a
separate category from “petitionary prayer” where the goal is to
ask God for things, although I admit to that being overly simplified.

So,
anyway, one day in my prayer class we’re given the assignment to pray
“The Jesus Prayer.”  We were supposed to do it for a while, maybe
30 minutes or an hour or something, and the professor suggested that
we actually pray it “as is” for a while before changing it.  So
we got the experience of praying it as it was, and then got to see
how we would change it and how that would feel.  Now, the Jesus
prayer is, “Lord
Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me, a sinner.”

This is not exactly my God
language.  Had the assignment not been clear (and the professor not
had my respect) I would have changed it immediately.  But, I gave it
a try.  And that day at least, it was a moving thing to pray.  

It made space in me for
different things to emerge than in the prayers I tend towards.  It
made space in me for different things to emerge than in the language
I would usually adapt towards.

This week, I was given the gift
of praying the Rosary with someone for whom it is a favorite prayer
practice.  Much of the Rosary is – also – not my preferred
language for God.  (Although some of it is amazing!)

In
both cases, the repetition made meditative space within me for some
insights that otherwise wouldn’t have had a way to be heard.  Which
is one of the great gifts of contemplative prayer, and why I love it
so much.

Now, I can’t hear the Gospel
lesson and the tax collector’s prayer, “God, be merciful to me, a
sinner!” without thinking of how it got adapted by tradition into
the Jesus Prayer, “Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on
me, a sinner,” and how (eventually) freeing it was to have a
sense of mercy and forgiveness for things I was usually trying to
forget I felt guilty about.  

The Gospel lesson is inverting
expectations.  Normally, the Pharisee would be seen as the one doing
things correctly, Pharisees were famous for their meticulous
commitment to following God’s commandments, and the Pharisee’s prayer
indicates he goes above and beyond even the requirements.  Meanwhile,
many people thought very poorly of tax collectors, and they were
rarely the heroes in any stories.

The Gospel praises the tax
collector, for the humility of his prayer while throwing shade at the
Pharisee for his – which is rough since the prayer the Pharisee
prayed was a pretty well known prayer at the time and he wasn’t the
only one doing it.

Now, the Pharisee’s prayer does
strike my ears as arrogant, but I wonder if nuance could help it.
What if instead of “God, I thank you that I am not like other
people: thieves, rogues, adulterers, or even like this tax collector.
I fast twice a week; I give a tenth of all my income.” he said,
“God, I thank you for what I am able to do, and for your help in
making it possible.  I thank you for the temptations I don’t have.  I
thank you for the ways I’ve learned that spiritual practice helps me,
and the capacity to do it.  I thank you for growing in me a
willingness and capacity to give back.”  And, I mean, I’d like to
add, “I open myself to what you want to do next.”

And then I want to ask Jesus if
that prayer is OK.  Because I’m not really sure.  

I
have been driving by another faith community that has on their sign a
condemnation of self-sufficiency which reads, “You sufficiency is
God’s.”  Now, I think self-sufficiency is a horrid myth that does
great damage and I very much hope that they’re trying to encourage
people towards connections with the Divine.  But I fear that they may
be making the same error that I hear in the Pharisee.

Because I think there is a
temptation in the phrase, “God is your sufficiency” to believe
that what you have in life is a gift from God.  But, the logical
corollary of that position is to believe that what others do NOT have
is a lack of a gift from God.  Thus God chooses who has enough to eat
and who does not, who has safe housing and who does not, who
struggles throughout life from childhood trauma and who does not.
And, it entrenches capitalism as God’s will – that if one is doing
OK that is because of God, if one is not doing OK that is because of
God, and thus no one is responsible for creating a system where
everyone is doing OK as a form of justice and righteousness.

(end rant)

I think though, that there has
to space in prayer for utter truth between us and God.  And
sometimes, I think we can look at another beloved of God who is
struggling and wish for their struggles to be lessened, and be
thankful that we don’t share that struggle.  That might sound like,
“God, I see how horrid it is to live with and fight with addiction,
and I am grateful not to have that challenge.”  Or maybe, “Holy
One, my dear friends are divorcing and their hearts ache, and I’m
feeling a little bit guilty even for the love I have in my life, but
I’m thankful for it anyway.”  

What
I hear in the Pharisee’s prayer is a dismissal of other people, their
lives, their temptations, their struggles, the external factors
facing them.  Scholars tell me that while all tax collectors get
dissed in the Bible and other ancient literature, many of them took
the positions because no other options were open to them, many of
them were honest, and most of them who were dishonest didn’t even
reap the gain from it – their bosses did.  The Pharisee’s prayer
dismissed everything about the tax collector except his job, and
didn’t make space for his humanity, needs, or decision making
process.

I don’t know what Jesus (or
maybe Luke, I think signs point to this one being by Luke) was
offended by in the Pharisee’s prayer, but that’s the struggle I hear.

And, it leads me wondering about
what we can be proud of.  Years ago now I did a Celebration of Life
service for a church member who had lived through plenty of struggles
in his life.  Yet, I was told, he held each of his accomplishments
dear – each certificate of completion, each acknowledgement of
merit, each authorization to try something new.  He had a folder in
his backpack that he always carried with him, and in it he kept the
records of his accomplishments.  I was delighted by this detail of
his life.  I was thrilled that he took what he was able to do
seriously, and made it so that no one could take away from him what
he worked hard to accomplish.

Meanwhile my diplomas and
ordination certificate, et al, sit in a pile in our attic because it
feels pretentious to display them.  This isn’t the only story in the
Bible that urges humility, and celebrates the one who comes to God
and the faith community without pride.  It is a pretty constant
theme.  The urging not to be like this Pharisee is deep seated in our
faith tradition, enough so it can be hard to figure out how to claim
with joy what God is doing in our lives without appearing to brag.

What can we be proud of?  What
are we allowed to celebrate?  Are we stuck only coming to God with
that Jesus prayer?  (“Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy
on me, a sinner.”)

Heavens I hope not!  It is a
viable PIECE of a full prayer life, but it isn’t complete.  I think
when we silence what is good in our lives, we also end up silencing
God.  In fact, I fear it is easier to focus on sin (individual or
communal) than it is to focus on goodness.  And sometimes the urgings
away from pride and towards humility can encourage this.

So,
case in point.  In the next few weeks, there are going to be
elections of Bishops in the United States portion of the United
Methodist Church.  Some people, God love them, are gifted for
administration and willing to take on the pressure and challenge of
attempting to steer a sinking ship.  But conventional wisdom says
that no one who wants to be a Bishop should become one, and those who
wouldn’t ever want the job are the ones who would be best at it. The
ASSUMPTION is that if one admits one’s gifts for administration and
one’s willingness to do truly horrid work, one disqualifies oneself
by lack of humility.  (I would note that women and people of color
pay a higher price for not being “humble” than white men do.)

This seems to fit how many of us
think about politicians as well: that those seeking power shouldn’t
be trusted with it (in case the elections of UMC Bishops seemed too
boring for you, which is fair.)

If we are pushing ourselves into
humility at all costs, we are missing the chance to pay attention to
the gifts we have and how we might use them.  If, say, a person with
a truly brilliant financial brain thinks of themselves as “below
average with numbers” they might not pay attention when there is a
need for… say…. a church treasurer.  (HINT HINT THIS IS NOT
SUBTLE).

Perhaps it will seem ironic to
some of you, I think it does to me, but one of the great gifts of
contemplative prayer for me is the chance to see myself more clearly.
I bring to prayer all the angst, guilt, worry, horror, and fears I
have of how I have erred, failed, and disappointed myself and the
Divine, and then God helps me sort through them.  And, while I am
always afraid of God’s judgement, it has turned out pretty much every
time that my judgement is harsher than God’s who tends to reply, “oh
honey, maybe try out a little compassion on yourself too.”  The
prayer time helps me see myself and others with compassion, which I
think is related to seeing myself and others more clearly.  And
having a clear sense of self involves knowing both strengths and
weaknesses, and admitting them despite the Pharisee.

Or, to share this in a far more
memorable way, this is the poem “God Says Yes To Me” by Kaylin
Haught:

I asked God if it was okay to be melodramatic
and she said yes
I asked her if it was okay to be short
and she said it sure is
I asked her if I could wear nail polish
or not wear nail polish
and she said honey
she calls me that sometimes
she said you can do just exactly
what you want to
Thanks God I said
And is it even okay if I don't paragraph
my letters
Sweetcakes God said
who knows where she picked that up
what I'm telling you is
Yes Yes Yes

Dear ones, Yes, Yes, Yes!  Amen

October 23, 2022

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

Uncategorized

“Now” based on Jeremiah 29:1, 4-7

  • October 9, 2022
  • by Sara Baron

Sometimes,
I get tired of preaching about the exile.  I get tired of thinking
about the exile.  I get tired of the fact that the exile metaphors
resonate with me, and I’d strongly prefer that they didn’t.

But
I’m ahead of myself, because we don’t talk enough about the exile to
assume that people can follow what I mean by it.  So, a quick
historical summary: After King David and King Solomon, the ancient
nation of Israel split into two.  The northern part had the name
Israel and the southern part the name
Judah.  That was stable for a few hundred years, then the northern
nation was subsumed by Assyria in 722 BCE.  The southern
kingdom held on for a while longer (mostly by paying tributes to
larger empires) but was destroyed in 586 BCE.  

At
that point the leaders, the literate, and the priests were forced
marched to Babylon, while the poor, illiterate majority were left in
the ruins of a destroyed Jerusalem without the protection of city
gates.

That’s
what we call “the exile.”  In 539 BCE (47 years later) the first
of the people who’d been exiled were freed to come back.  Meanwhile
the people who stayed had been decimated by famine, disease, and
attackers, and “home” wasn’t what people had remembered or been
told about.

The
reality of the exile is formative in the writing down of the Hebrew
Bible, and the questions that were being asked and answered in how
the stories got written down.  It is also one of the great narrative
arcs of the Bible, and I think that’s true because it was written
down when it was still so vibrant in people’s lives and memories.  I
also think it is true because the sensation of being displaced from
life as we know it and/or life as it should be is quite common, and
having the narrative of the exile helps us make sense of life as we
know it.

And
now we’re back to the beginning.  I appreciate the ways the stories
of the exile make sense of life, but I’m rather tired of identifying
with it.  I’d rather resonate with some stories of stability instead.

But,
here we are.

And
in the midst of this is Jeremiah’s profound, shocking, amazing,
unexpected communication on behalf of God.  He writes to those in
exile, the ones who have been torn from their homes, the ones who are
prevented from going home by exactly the people who tore up their
home and tore them from their homes and he says on behalf of God:

Build houses and live in them;
plant gardens and eat what they produce.
Take wives and have sons
and daughters; take wives for your sons, and give your daughters in
marriage, that they may bear sons and daughters; multiply there, and
do not decrease.
But seek the welfare of the city where I have
sent you into exile, and pray to the LORD on its behalf, for in its
welfare you will find your welfare.

I
can’t imagine that this is what the exiles wanted to hear.  

I
would imagine this was the opposite of what they expected.  Wouldn’t
they want to be ready to leave at any time?  Why settle in?  After
all, the passover celebrates God calling the people from Egypt so
quickly they had to cook unleavened bread!  Build houses and plant
gardens?  That sounds wrong.

Get
married?  Have kids?  Keep on living?  Keep on trying to thrive and
grow?  But, that doesn’t fit either.  They’re in a temporary place,
shouldn’t they wait until they get home and can be in the “Promised
Land” and connected to life as they know it, life as it is supposed
to be?  Why bring kids into the mess of the exile?  I mean, does an
exile marriage even COUNT?

And
then, then God gets INTO it.  This is one of the most shocking things
attributed to God in the Bible, and that’s saying a lot.  God says,
“But seek the welfare of the city where I have sent you into exile,
and pray to the LORD on its behalf, for in its welfare you will find
your welfare.”  Seek the welfare of…. Babylon?  Pray for Bablyon?
Work for the wellbeing of Babylon?  Our well being is correlated
with the well being of our oppressors?

We
aren’t trying to undermine them?  We aren’t trying to destroy them?
We aren’t trying to … at the very least just keep our heads down
until we get to leave?  We’re working for their WELFARE?  (It may be
helpful to know that I don’t think the exiles were slaves, but nor
were they free to leave.)

That’s
about how I think the exiles would have responded.  But maybe I’m
wrong, because while everything God says is counter-intuitive,
everything God says also sounds like God.  And they, too, knew God.
So maybe they knew to expect the unexpected, to know compassion for
others would come at the most annoying times, to experience God’s
reminders about loving everyone when they least wanted to hear it.

I
hear the echos of this message from God when Jesus heals the
senator’s daughter, when Paul has compassion for his jailers, and
when MLK reminded his listeners that the goal was not to harm the
oppressors but transform them so they too could live a more wonderful
life.

This
is a very, very Godly message, this “But seek the welfare of the
city where I have sent you into exile, and pray to the LORD on its
behalf, for in its welfare you will find your welfare.”

I’m
not sure when it gets easy.

Because,
right now, this feels like a message to settle into this
late-pandemic reality.  Let go of what was, and build houses HERE.
Plant gardens HERE.  Savor relationships and build up families HERE
and NOW.  And, seek the welfare of the city where we now are.

But
most of us still aren’t all the way here yet.  (Maybe the young are?)
We’re still remembering what was.  Maybe, even, we’re still letting
God know that we are ready to bake the bread – even the unleavened
bread – and walk away from this mess right now!  We don’t want to
settle into this reality.  We want to go HOME.  We don’t want to seek
the welfare of this time, we want this time to be different than it
is.

But
God meets us in the now.

Not
the past, the future, nor the time we wish it was.  The now.

That
pre-exilic time never returned.  But there was a vibrant post-exilic
time, which included things like the Bible being written, the Second
Temple being build, the walls of Jerusalem being restored, and as a
thing that is pretty relevant to us, the life of Jesus.

It
seems to me, from where I’m standing, that the temptation of the
exile is the yearning to return to how things used to be.  But God
urges the people to be present in their NOW, which prepares them for
the next things God is going to be up to with them.

I
guess, like the exiles, God is dragging us into the now – sometimes
while we kick and scream like toddlers.  And I think that’s the word
as I hear it today.  God is with us in the now, calling us into the
now, and preparing us for the future.  

And
this is where we meet God.

May
we be open to meeting God here.  Amen

October 9, 2022

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

Uncategorized

“Bread of Life” based on Psalm 37:1-9, Habakkuk 1:1-4,…

  • October 2, 2022
  • by Sara Baron

Sometimes I hear people say that they’re angry with God,
but are afraid to let themselves feel it, or express it.  To those
people, I often suggest Biblical reading.  The Bible has no problem
being angry with God nor expressing it.  Habakkuh does a great job
with this.

How long, O God!  

How long shall I cry for help without getting help?

How long will I tell you of the violence I’m living
without you intervening?

Why help me see what’s wrong, without helping me change
it?

Why is trouble all I see?

Why is destruction all around me?

Why is there never justice?

Why are your laws ignored?

Why is everything getting WORSE?

I’m listening God.

I’m standing here, watching and listening, to hear your
response,

waiting for you to acknowledge my complaints.

Right?  Excellent work Habakkuk.

And, way to speak the universal even though you were
speaking to a specific context.  It feels like Habakkuh holds today’s
paper in his hands as he writes!

Now, as much as I like the truth of his words, and as
much as I appreciate him finding words when I can’t always do it, the
great part for me in this reading is that God DOES respond.

God says:

Write down my vision.

Write it so big someone running by will be able to read
it.

I still have a vision for justice.

I’m still working for good.

My visions are not a lie.

If it seems too slow, be patient.

Justice is coming.

It will not always be true that injustice wins, or that
those who do harm prosper.

Keep your eyes on my vision.

That’s what we’re doing here.  We see, we acknowledge,
we name the injustices of the world.  We bemoan them.  We advocate
for change, and we are required to see what’s wrong in order to
change it.  BUT we also have to see what could be in order to change
it.  And we don’t stay with the injustice forever.  We keep our focus
on God’s visions.

We keep our focus on the transformational power of love.

We keep our focus on God’s dreams of a just world.

We keep our focus on hope of what is possible.

We don’t believe the injustices of the world are the
final answer.  We believe God wins, and that love wins.

And that’s the table we gather at together.  The one of
hope, the one of EVERYONE, the one that brings us together to work
for God’s vision.  People in different countries, people in different
denominations, people speaking different languages, people with
different bodies in , people with different theological
understandings of sacrament.  United by vision.  Being fed by the
bread of life so we can be for the world a gift of love.  Receiving
the gifts of God’s love so we can share it.  Remembering hope, so we
can live it.  Expanding the table, because that’s an imperative part
of the vision itself.

We receive the bread of life.

We are the bread of life.


Thanks be to God. 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

October 2, 2022

Uncategorized

“Role Model?”  based on Luke 16:1-3

  • September 18, 2022
  • by Sara Baron

Parables are not fables.  They don’t
teach us a direct lesson that can be immediately applied to living a
good life.  Case in point: the parable of the dishonest manager.  If
I were giving awards for the most morally ambiguous parable, this one
would be in the running.

For starters, the issue presented is of
a DISHONEST manager, that’s who we’re dealing with as the… hero?
The dishonest manager gets fired, but before the word gets out, he
cancels some of the debt of the owners debtors, presumably aiming to
get hired by one of them for his next gig.  So he is dishonest,
underhanded, and self-serving.  And he gets commended by the person
who had fired him and used as an example of kindom values by Jesus?

This guy is our role model?

Let no one say the role of the preacher
in interpreting the texts for a modern audience is easy.

But… let’s give this a try.

First of all, I think we better have a
solid sense of this
story in its historical context so that we read less into it and hear
it more as first hearers would have.  Here is redacted commentary
from the Social Science Commentary on the Synoptic Gospels:

Rich landowners
frequently employed estate managers (often a slave born in the
household) who had the authority to rent property, make loans, and
liquidate debts in the name of the master.  Such agents were usually
paid in the form of a commission or fee on each transaction they
arranged.  While token under-the-table additions to loan contracts
were common, all the principal and interest had to be in a publicly
written contract approved by both parties.  There is no warrant for
the frequent assumption here that the agent could exact as much as 50
percent above a contract for his fee.  If that had been done, the
rage of the peasants would have immediately been made known to the
landowner ,.. who would have been implicated in the extortion if he
acquiesced.  This is clearly not the case in this story.

Traditional
Israelite law provided that an agent was expected to pay for any loss
incurred by his employer for which he was responsible.  He could also
be put in prison to extort the funds from his family.  If the
dishonesty of the manager became public knowledge, he would have been
seen as damaging the reputation of the master.  Severe punishment
could be expected.   Startlingly, however, in this story he is simply
dismissed.

In the case of
the dismissal of an agent, the dismissal was effective as soon as the
agent was informed of it, and from that time forward, nothing the
agent did was binding on the person who employed him.  The plan
worked out by the manager thus had to be enacted before word of his
dismissal got to the village.  …

The scheme of the
manager is to seek new patrons….

The debtors here
[paid a fixed amount of the produce].  The size of the debts is
extraordinary.  Though such measures are difficult to pin down, they
are probably equivalent to 900 gallons of oil and 150 bushels of
wheat.  Storytelling hyperbole may be involved, or as recent
investigations have suggested, debts are large enough that they may
be the tax debts of an entire village.  …

The “rich man”
presumably has …an interpersonal attachment to his manager.  Having
discovered the mercy of the landowner in not putting him in prison or
demanding repayment, the manager depends on a similar reaction in the
scheme he cooks up.  It is a scheme that places the landowner in a
peculiar bind.  If he retracts the actions of the manager, he risks
serious alienation in the village, where villagers would already have
been celebrating his astonishing generosity.  If he allows the
reductions to stand, he will be praised far and wide (as will the
manager for having made the “arrangement”) as a noble and
generous man.  It is the latter reaction upon which the manager
counts.1

The more I read about the Jewish
peasants of Jesus day, the more I am convinced that they were well
aware of the systems of injustice that kept them down.  I find this
to also be true of people living in poverty today.

I’m not sure if there is an actual
protagonist in this story, really.  The rich man is definitely not
seen as a good man, in a society were wealth was assumed to be
stolen.  But, the person whose job it was to enable the rich man’s
continued wealth accumulation was ALSO not seen in a positive light.
Many people I know can identify with the managers bind.  He was
better off being a manager and getting a decent cut of the accounts
he created than he was in most other positions he was eligible for,
but working for “the man” whose very wealth oppressed others was
also inherently dishonorable work.  Or at least, I believe the
peasants would have seen it that way.

And quite often when I think too hard
about what it means to work for “The United Methodist Church”, I
fear it too is inherently dishonorable work, even if I believe
working for THIS church is a moral good.  There are SO MANY jobs like
this though.  Working for the health care system – YAY, caring for
people!  But also, making wealth for investors in insurance
companies.  Sigh.  Working in education – YAY, teaching people
things they need to know!  But also, participating in a system that
maintains income INEQUALITY over lifetimes.  Groan.  Actually, come
to think of it a lot of jobs, probably most jobs, are really morally
ambiguous given the fact that we live in a society that treats a
large percentage of people as expendable, and the institutions and
systems of society are part of how we maintain this system.

(Right now I feel like John Oliver when
he talks about how incredibly cheery his show.)

So in the midst of the realities of
income inequality, injustice, and violations of Jewish law, comes
this incredibly morally ambiguous parable.  I think the way I can
most easily make sense of it is if the debts forgiven are the debts
of the whole village.  That brings the whole thing together for me –
including that it suggests the Rich Man owns the whole village which
was common enough in the Roman Empire but INHERENTLY immoral in the
tradition of the Ancient Jews who believed that every family got land
access that could not be taken away from them.  This is related to
the banning of INTEREST, which keeps people from being stuck in
poverty cycles.  The rich man owning the village means that the
morals of the community have been deeply violated, and both the rich
man and his obsequious servants are at fault.

The post-firing actions of the
dishonest manager have some accidental Robin Hood implications then.
He cancels debt, creates a better balance, eases the lives of the
people.  But, it is still pretty clear that he does this FOR HIMSELF,
and the benefit to the people is mostly accidental.

Now, this has some themes that fit
other parables and other teachings of Jesus.  There is a value in the
cornering of the rich man into being generous, in winning the
“shrewd” fight, and in taking care of the people, no matter the
intention.

While I believe that the “moral” of
the story is likely tacked on later, the Jesus Seminar thinks it goes
back to Jesus and I think Luke placed it well.  “No servant can
serve two masters.  No doubt that slave will either hate one and love
the other or be devoted to one and disdain the other.  You can’t be
enslaved to both God and a bank account.”  The book “Debt: The
History of the First 5000 Years” says that the world’s major
religions emerged IN RESPONSE (to counter) the world’s first market
economies.  That is, there started to be an assumption that markets
were GOOD, and defined what life should be, and those who won at the
market deserved it and those who lost at the market deserved it, and
that was just how life was.  

In the face of that, religions said,
“nope.”  I would make a claim the author didn’t, that this was
related to the Spirit of God NOT being invested in the markets and
the hierarchies they created in the “value” of human life.  But,
in a quite literal sense, religions countered the claims of the
market.  Money is NOT what matters most.  Individual wealth is NOT a
sign of a persons goodness.  Instead, all people have value.
Instead, goodness is related to the way All the people are cared for.
Instead, the COMMON GOOD is the definition of a successful society.

God cares for the peasants, even though
the market does not.  

This morally ambiguous parable is
likely NOT one we want to take as a simple role model story.  BUT, in
the vein of great parables, it is one that invites us into
consideration of our own lives and our own roles.  When are we
serving “the rich man” and harming the poor?  When are we serving
ourselves, and who is that helping and hurting?  When are we serving
the poor, and why?  How are we implicated in the systems that
oppress, and how and when are we motivated to shake them up?  And,
maybe – when we are backed into a corner afraid for our own
well-being, can we find ways out that help others along the way?

Serving God and not money is not
encouraged in our society.  I often fear our economy is the actual
“god” of our society.  But the God of our Bible, and the God we
learn about from Jesus is deeply invested in offering us alternatives
to worshipping the economy.  Thanks be to God for being worthy of our
worship for being the worthy center of our lives.  Amen

1Bruce J. Malina and Richard L. Rohrbaugh Social-Science
Commentary on the Synoptic Gospels (Minneapolis: Fortress Press,
2003) “Textual Notes: Luke 16:1-16” p. 292-3.

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

September 18, 2022

Uncategorized

“Are We Lost?” based on Luke 15:1-10

  • September 11, 2022
  • by Sara Baron

In
simpler times I have heard the parables of the lost coin and the lost
sheep in simpler ways.  One can take the perspective of the 99 sheep
or the 9 coins and be rather irked at the ways the 1 is celebrated.
One can take the perspective of the seeker, and join in the joy of
finding the one.  One can take the perspective of the outside
observer and wonder if leaving 99 sheep unattended is really the best
way to move towards having 100 sheep, or if throwing a party worth
more than the found coin is the best use of money.

Of
course, there is the most obvious option of taking the perspective of
the lost sheep and being grateful for the shepherd who comes looking
and rescues one from peril (or perhaps pulls you out of a great
tasting meadow, who knows?)  Identifying with the sheep is a little
easier than the coin, but nevertheless, the awareness that when we’re
lost we need help is an easy one to turn to.

These
times, beloveds, are not simple times.

In
this time when I read the story of the lost sheep and the lost coin I
think to myself, “are we lost or found?” and I find that the
answer is “I don’t know.”  Or, more honestly, the answer is “Yes,
we are lost.  Yes, we are found.  Yes.”  

I
remember preaching in 2016 about the articles I was seeing about how
the 2016 election cycle was doing heavy damage to  our country’s
mental health, and therapists were urging people to engage in breaks
from the news, in meditation, in breathing exercises.  They were
worried about the stress destabilizing us individually and
collectively.  I remember seeing what they were talking about, in
myself and in this church.  Tempers were shorter, nuance got lost,
there was more right/wrong and  us/them thinking.  Schenectady Clergy
Against Hate grew out of that the time, because of the radical
increase in hate crimes.

Here
is the bad news.  At this point I think of 2016 as a simpler time.

Sure,
there were oodles of stress.  Sure I saw myself, others, and the
church community get worse at basic functioning.  Sure, The United
Methodist Church was a dumpster fire.  Sure, polarization was at all
time highs.  But, that level of communal chronic stress was at that
point relatively new.  (We didn’t know it then.)

For
me, the Trump presidency was a daily kick in the gut, or more
specifically in every value I hold dear.  And, because I’m not
actually interested in dismissing people because they think
differently from me, I’m aware that for those whose values were
upheld by the Trump presidency, the squeals of horror and outrage
about everything he did ALSO shook them to the core.  And, let us
never forget, that foreign adversaries have taken advantage of
differences between us to further polarization, because it benefits
THEM for us to have more HATE in our society.  

So,
the stress of the election didn’t settle down.  Things kept getting
worse.  Then there was the 2019 General Conference of The United
Methodist Church when our denomination doubled down on homophobia and
it became clear that our church at large is not centered in the love
of God.  That was a blow, at least to me.

Then
the COVID pandemic began, and we’re sure sick of talking about it,
not to mention living it, I know.  But it is relevant here.  The
pandemic shook every single part of our society and our lives.  And
nothing is the same.  

And
quite often we HATE that.  Fine, quite often I hate that.  It is
disconcerting.  It is depressing.  It is overwhelming.  And then
there are the STILL present challenges of determining where the right
balances are between risks of infecting others with a serious illness
and risks of disconnection and loneliness (which itself can also be
deadly), and the simple deciding is exhausting.

The
stress level has been rising since 2016, sometimes just a slow steady
beat upwards, sometimes in leaps.  There are PHYSIOLOGICAL facts
about stress.  It makes us less creative.  It makes us less
compassionate.  It pushes us into black and white thinking.  It leads
us into in-group thinking, and making enemies of others.  It makes us
selfish.

None
of which look anything like following Jesus.  Right?

That’s
a little squirmy for me.  That the impacts of stress impede the
capacity to follow Jesus.    Because I don’t really get to control
the world and the stresses it throws at me, nor at us.  All
of which gets me around to why I think the answer is “yes, we’re
lost.”  

But
perhaps you’d like to hear why I think the answer is ALSO, “yes,
we’re found?”

The
starting and ending point of “we’re found’ are quite simple: I do
not believe it is possible to wander away from God.  Or, at least, it
is not possible to wander beyond the reaches of God’s love.  And, as
God is everywhere, anywhere we are is with God, and God knows where
we are, so we are found.  (By God.)

But,
in case that isn’t actually enough for you (although, it is rather a
lot), I’d like to point out what you are doing RIGHT NOW.  You are
listening to a sermon.  Now, I don’t know all of your personal
reasons for why you do that, but I know some things.  I know you have
lots of other things you could be doing, and when you do this you are
making a choice.  There seems to be strong evidence that you would
listen to a sermon because you are interested in what makes a good
life and/or in how to live a Godly life and/or in considering how to
get from the world as it is to the world as God would have it be.  It
could be you are looking for reasons for hope, or looking for
analysis of what’s going on, or to make meaning of the world, or to
make meaning of life, or maybe you are mostly doing this because
other people you like also do this and you want to connect with them.

Those,
dear ones, are really beautiful reasons to do a thing.

I
remain shocked that this thing we know as church exists.  Hear me
out!  So, a bunch of people connect with each other and are connected
by their shared commitment to God and living as followers of Jesus.
So they create spaces to work together and worship together.  They
give significant gifts of time to caring for the needs of the church
and the community, to learning together and playing together and
doing important things together.  

Then,
and this is the one that keeps on shocking me, they give MONEY to the
church.  Enough to PAY STAFF even (AND take care of the building,
another miracle).  Staff to help take care of the resources (sexton,
building), staff to take care of the community (breakfast cook),
staff to take care of the communication and connections
(administrative assistant), and even staff to take the time to listen
to the world and the Bible and the people and try to help make sense
of things (pastor.)

I
am amazed that you all do this.  It is INSANE.

You
realize how much time, energy, money, and frustration you’ve given to
this place right? When people say “church family” they may in
fact be reflecting that some of the demands family puts on our lives
is similar to the demands church puts on their lives.

But
this is also GOOD NEWS.  Because in the midst of this world, people
are giving of themselves in hope that what we do together is part of
building better lives and a better world.  Lives are changed here, by
friendship, by theology, by study, by singing, by hope.  We are more
together than we could ever be apart.

And
even now, even when everything is different, even when showing up is
in multiple mediums and often feels SO strange compared to what we
knew in the past – even now, you all keep on caring enough to
listen, to try, to work towards good.  And that’s about as “found”
as I can imagine existing.  I am, quite honestly, profoundly moved
that you exist and keep on keeping on.

There
is a final piece to this though.  It isn’t just that we are lost and
we are found, as two separate pieces.  It is also that we are lost
and found, both at the same time, and that has its own truth.  This
week I got an email from a clergy coach who talked about this, and
while I want to share everything Rev. Lauren Stephens-Reed said, I’m
condensing to this:

leading
innovation is about getting people to co-create the future with you.
This
kind of approach is warranted when your purpose is clear but the
future is not. Is there any better descriptor of – any greater need
in – this time in the Church, in the world?

I
do believe our purpose is clear.  We are co-creating the kindom of
God with God.  We work together to promote the idea that the kindom
and its values are important, to help each other learn in order to
build the kindom, and to help each other live its values.  We don’t
know everything, but we do know that some of the prime values of the
kindom are love, justice, compassion, and inclusion, so we work on
those.  We are going it TOGETHER because we believe we are more
together than apart.

So,
we don’t know how to get to the future.

That’s
OK.

God
does, and God will lead us, TOGETHER.

We
are lost dear ones,  and we are found, dear ones.  And it is hard but
it is OK.  Thanks be to God.  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

September 11, 2022

Uncategorized

“To Be Known” based on Psalm 139:1-6, 13-18 and…

  • September 4, 2022
  • by Sara Baron

For
years now, the book of Philemon has tickled my funny bone.  That fact
is now making me squirm.  

It
made me laugh cause I read it from a logical perspective, and I was
amused by the choice of argument style.  I thought it was
manipulative, but brilliant.  From this angle, the line “For this
reason, though I am bold enough in Christ to command you to do your
duty,  yet I would rather appeal to you on the basis of love–and I,
Paul, do this as an old man, and now also as a prisoner of Christ
Jesus” is potent.  Paul points out his power, steps back from it,
but then adds layers of guilt about his age and his position as a
prisoner to strengthen his claim that what he wants should be given
to him “freely.”

Taken
from a pure logic perspective, it is a strong argument, and indeed
manipulative.

But
I wonder what made me take it from a logic perspective.

Because
when I read it now, it sounds like it is an honest emotional appeal.
The gist is that Paul has come to love and depend on Onesimus.  Paul
would like to have Onesimus with him, but decides that the right
thing to do is let Philemon make his own decision.  It is pretty
clear Paul isn’t enjoying doing the right thing, sending the letter
to Philemon with Onesimus and awaiting the response (hopefully coming
back with Onesimus) is hard.  He doesn’t want to be separated even
that long.

Paul
does the right thing, and he does it while making every appeal he can
to Philemon for the thing he needs.  

Now,
Paul’s request is not small.  Onesimus is a slave belonging to
Philemon, and Paul requests that Philemon free Onesimus, recognize
him as an equal in the Body of Christ, and then send him back to Paul
as a free person to serve the Body of Christ by accompanying Paul as
a companion and equal.

That’s
really living out the line Paul wrote in Galatians.  “There is no
longer Jew or Greek, there is no longer slave or free, there is no
longer male and female; for all of you are one in Christ Jesus.”
(3:28)  Paul says that now that Onesimus is in Christ, it doesn’t
make sense for him to be the slave of another person with whom he is
“one in Christ Jesus.”

This
is about as radical of a notion as one could have.  It upends the
entire economic, familial, and societal structure of Paul’s time.  It
is VERY Jesus like.  It is the reasonable extension of Jesus’s
teaching.  It simply disregards the known hierarchies of the world
and replaces them with the bonds of human affection and equality in
the eyes of God.

This
is ignoring everything but the love of God, and appealing on the
basis of that love for things to be different.

And
Paul actually asks for it.  He doesn’t just write about it, doesn’t
just indicate this would be an appropriate way to follow Jesus.  He
asks for it, in real time, because he both believes in it and because
he needs it to be true.

The
emotions and needs behind his request are what make me uncomfortable
with my prior interpretation.  I’ve been working on becoming more
attentive to my own feelings and needs, as well as learning to see
and name other people’s feelings and needs.  I’ve been working on
this for a decade and it makes a difference, but I still have plenty
of work to do.

Maybe
I’ve been in too many manipulative situations where people aren’t
honest about their needs, or I’ve felt backed into the corner, or
disregarded and unheard.  Maybe that’s why I’ve read this as if Paul
was trying to manipulate Philemon.  But right now, it really looks to
me like he is laying all his cards on the table, and yet making his
request one that Philemon gets to decide about.  He asks, he
explains, he offers what he can offer, but he makes space for
Philemon to do what Philemon will do.

He
makes a request of Philemon, not a demand.  Maybe because it seems
like it would be really hard to say no to this request, maybe that’s
why I read it as manipulative.  But Paul asks, and doesn’t demand.
Paul doesn’t use his authority to decree.  He ASKS.  It is almost as
if, despite his role as a church leader, he doesn’t hold himself
above other people of faith.  

You
know, this letter is making me love Paul a little more.

I
love his love for Onesimus, and I love his honesty in really needing
Onesimus with him.  I think I particularly love that last part
because it is so … not stoic.  Paul isn’t sitting in prison saying,
“I’m fine, no worries.”  He is sitting in prison saying, “this
is really much nicer with someone I love around, and I’d like to keep
having that.”  

Now,
maybe you are thinking to yourself, “well, sure, someone who is
confined to PRISON deserves
a little bit of comfort and support.”  If so, thank God!  I’m a
little bit tired of the narrative that people who get confined to
prisons somehow stop being human and stop needing basic human things
like edible food and human connection.

But,
anyway, if you were thinking to yourself that it was OK for Paul to
ask for some comfort in prison in his old age, then I’d invite you to
take the compassion and apply it to yourself.  You, too, have needs,
you too have the right to try to get them met.  Regardless of age or
imprisonment status.

When
I say needs I am saying things that could fall under categories like
autonomy, connection, meaning, peace, physical well-being, and play.
I’m not JUST talking about food, water, and shelter although those
are part of physical well-being.  The other categories are ALSO
universal human needs, ones we ALL have that impact everything about
our lives.

I’m
making the radical claim that in the letter to Philemon, Paul is
showing himself to be a human being with needs, and that reminds us
that we are human beings with needs too.  And we, too, have the right
to find ways to get those needs met.  I think that it may be true
that in our society claiming everyone has needs AND a right to seek
to meet those needs almost as radical as Paul saying that a slave
should be freed because of equality in Christ.

Now,
this brings me around to Psalm 139 which may or may not have made you
a little bit uncomfortable.  Someone asked me in late June what text
is used to claim that the Bible is against abortion, and my reply
was, “Huh, I don’t know.  Cause it isn’t there.  But maybe they use
Psalm 139?”  After all, verse 13 does refer to a human being known
by God even before birth when they say, “For it was you who formed
my inward parts; you knit me together in my mother’s womb.”

However,
that doesn’t say what people say it says.  Psalm 139 also talks about
God knowing what we have to say before the words are on our tongues.
The idea that God knows us before we are born is a way of saying that
God us before we even ARE.  

When
I take away the ways Psalm 139 has been misused, I find it rather
comforting.  God knows us, sees us, is with us, AND LOVES us.  God’s
love isn’t some generic thing, nor based on how we preform.  God
knows AND love us as we are.  We have no secrets from God.  

That
is, God knows our feelings and our thoughts, and our needs.  God
doesn’t expect us to be able to pretend away our needs, or push away
our feelings.  God KNOWS them with us, and works with us to get our
needs met and our feelings acknowledged.

God
isn’t asking us to be perfect or stoic, cause God knows what it is
like to be us.  That’s comforting.

Now,
it is possible that some of you are wondering why this matters, and
why I’m making such a huge point about having needs, and it being OK,
and working to get them met.  Because these are not exactly the most
obvious points to make from our scriptures today.  One piece of this
is that discovering that I TOO was a human who also had needs and
that wasn’t WRONG was a pretty big deal to me.  I knew there were
universal human needs, sure, but for a very long time I still though
I was supposed to be exempt from that, and I’d like to help you let
that go too if you hold that idea.

But
also, I think there is a lot of fear around being human and having
needs and being “needy.”  There is a sense that it is weak or bad
or something.  And I think that does a whole lot of damage to the
world and the church.  And I think that if we are going to matter to
each other, if we are going to be a community who loves each other
and helps each other grow, if we are going to matter to the world, if
we are going to be people who meet others where they are – then
we need to get more comfortable with our humanity and our needs.  I
think this is a way TOWARDS God.

To
be specific, I hear in this church profound fear of talking about
conflict.  There is a sense that if we talk about things we’ve
disagreed about, everything may blow up and we will regret it.  

I
believe that if we brush aside our feelings and our needs, if we
pretend away our disagreements, if we sweep our history under the
rug, it will poison us from the inside.  I believe that the hardest
things about being a church are the ways that old conflicts never got
resolved and keep on bringing new hurts, and if we keep on doing that
we won’t be able to keep on functioning.

AND,
here is the good news in all of this.  If we can hold on to our own
needs, and make space for other people’s needs, conflict gets a whole
lot less scary!!  If I have a need for space, ease, and
self-expression while you have a need for connection, and efficacy
and closeness that could lead us to conflict pretty fast, right?
BUT, if instead of blaming me for my need for space or blaming you
for your need for connection we just took those as givens, we could
find some really cool ways to meet both of our needs.  

(Summary:
blame is not useful in conflict nor conflict resolutions, but needs
themselves are fine and can help us find win-wins.)

I
believe in a God of win-wins.  I believe in a God who knows us and
likes us and is at peace with our needs and would like us to be.  I
believe in a God who of equality and equity who has no commitment
whatsoever to the hierarchical systems of any age.  And I believe God
is with us, willing and able to work with us in this community and
this church.  We don’t need to throw our needs to get to God or
connect with each other.  Instead, like Paul, we can acknowledge what
we need and ask each other for help.  May God help us find the
strength to be so vulnerable!  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

September 4, 2022

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