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December 5, 2021
by Sara Baron

“The Road Home is Under Construction” based on Malachi 3:1-4 and Luke 3:1-6

When preaching is done well the past helps make sense of the present to prepare the people for the future. Preaching isn’t ever supposed to be just retelling the stories of the past, they’re told to make meaning, to help make sense, to get perspective, to gain insight. In oral tradition, the stories themselves change as they’re retold, responding to the needs of the people who are hearing the story as well as the perspective of the story teller. In our tradition, the stories eventually were written down into our scriptures, into one or a few versions, but preachers PLAY with the stories until they build a bridge from the past to the present that can support the future.

In this sense, I note that the scripture writers themselves are doing some “preaching” with the stories of their own tradition in our texts today. In Luke we hear quoted Isaiah, and it is with Isaiah we’re going to start.

Isaiah is speaking to the Exiles, displaced in Babylon, trying to make sense of the traumas they’ve experienced, the losses they’ve lived, the discombobulation of being displaced, and the sense that God let them down. I think more of us fit in here than we tend to admit. I hear my colleagues talk about the pandemic as collective trauma, and I believe they are right. When we add together the childhood traumas that most people have experienced, to traumas in adulthood, to collective trauma – it becomes clear that we have similarities with the exiles. And, trauma isn’t just a word for “ a bad thing.” Shelly Rambo in her book Spirit and Trauma: A Theology of Remaining talks about trauma as “an encounter with death.”1 She, like other writers on trauma, clarifies that it isn’t just suffering, “Suffering is what, in time, can be integrated into one’s understanding of the world. Trauma is what is not integrated in time; it is the difference between a closed and an open wound. Trauma is an open wound.”

Into this brokenness, into this trauma, Isaiah speaks a vision. He says that God will level out the way home, create an easy pathway back to Israel with the mountains brought low and the valleys made high, and the curves straightened out. There are some important aspects to this story: God does it! The people don’t have to. God smoothing the way home tells them that God still cares about them, a response to their biggest fear. The trauma doesn’t go away, it isn’t solved by this vision of homecoming, or even the homecoming itself. However, the trauma ALSO doesn’t get to have the last word.

Isaiah is preaching “don’t give up” to a people who thinking about giving up. Isaiah is sharing that God still cares to a people who aren’t sure if God still cares. Isaiah is offering a vision of hope to a moment of hopelessness. And he does it with an imagery of justice, of bringing down the mighty and bringing up the weak. You see it? The past trauma, the present struggles, the bridge to the future?

I wonder how Isaiah would say it to us today. How would Isaiah speak into the loneliness of the past and present, the constancy of ambiguity, the displacement in place that we know today? I wonder what our path home would look like, how we might construe the road construction on that path in meaningful ways. What are the mountains we struggle to climb? What are the valleys light doesn’t reach? What curves keep us from seeing the way forward? What rough spots slow us down?

I’m struck that in all the layers of stories today, which are all themed on preparation, the preparation is always of “the people” and never of a person. I wonder if Isaiah’s metaphor for us today would be of God building the bullet train tracks home – so that we can journey together instead of apart, and take care of creation while we’re at it.

Now, Luke as a preacher, is using the story Isaiah told to make sense of HIS present. Luke’s present is situated in the powers and principalities of Rome, the passage starts by naming the era via the names of the men who were profiting from the control of the Jewish people. (And then the names of the high priests they’d appointed, which lacks subtlety.) And then, Luke switches, he says that into this powerful mess of oppression came John the Baptist, preaching and asking people to change their minds, turn around, get reoriented (#repentance). Luke uses the story of the past, the imagery of a safe road home, to make sense of John’s ministry. What had been a vision for exiled people to have hope that trauma didn’t have the last word became for Luke a vision of a prophet preparing the people to hear the words of the the Messiah, so that everyone might have healing (#salvation).

Luke is preparing the people to stand up to Rome, by telling them a story of John preparing the way for Jesus by preaching repentance.

How would we name our present day? Would we say, “During the presidency of…” or “When …. was governor of NY” or “in the time when trust was at an all time low” or “when income inequality had reached new highs?” It seems that how we name the present impacts how we contrast it with what God is up to. Funny that. Its true of how we name the past too, right? What stories do we tell, and which ones do we leave out? How do our memories adapt over time?

You may notice that different parts of Christianity understand Jesus pretty differently. It is likely fair to say in ways that are polar opposites. In the United Methodist Church, there is a similar phenomenon with John Wesley – the ways he is interpreted say more about the theology of the interpreters than of John Wesley. To be honest, I think Luke is pushing Isaiah’s vision pretty far here, to make it fit John the Baptist, but it does tell us how Luke understood John and Jesus which is exactly what it was intending to do.

How we tell the stories of the past (and which stories we tell), relates to what we perceive and we need in the present and what we dream for the future. This applies to our individual lives as well as our communal lives.

The past isn’t quite as… fixed as we might imagine it to be. It is complicated, and it can only be seen through the lenses brought to it. In this season of preparation, it seems fair to be asking ourselves: what are we preparing FOR, and how does that relate to our past and our present?

The rest of our lives are going to be “after the start of the pandemic.” Which means that the time before the pandemic is now our past. How do we tell its stories, and how do we tell them to make sense of the present and the future? More broadly, I suspect the days of Christianity being the de facto religion of the United States and mainline denominations dominating the religious landscape are also in the past. How do we tell those stories, and the stories of our own church with awareness that the present is different from the past and the future from both?

In between Isaiah and Luke, speaks Malachi. Malachi speaks to the POST-exilic people, who were a combination of the exiles who had come home, the people who had been left behind, and those who had moved into ancient Israel in the meantime. For the returned exiles, the return wasn’t as idealized they might have hoped. They got home, but it wasn’t what they expected. There were conflicts between groups, misunderstandings, and DIFFERENT traumas that led to DIFFERENT triggers, all mixed up together.

In the midst of this, Malachi tells of a messenger who is preparing the way by purifying the people into righteousness. Malachi is preparing the people for the work they have to do by re-imagining the stories of the past. He reuses the idea of God sending a messenger, but changes what the messenger would do. Malachi looks to the past to purify the present to make space for the future, but to do so requires reworking the past.

All this preparing the prophets and writers were doing, all this worrying about the people and their connection to God, all of this awareness of the flow of time and its intersections, all of these criss crosses of timelines and imagery:

What do they say to us today? How do they help us be in our uncomfortable present? Well, all of the “presents” of the texts were uncomfortable. They were all times where people were just waiting it out, hoping for it to end – the exile, the discomfort after the exile, Roman rule. For what has felt to us like a very long time, we’ve been trying to wait out this pandemic.

But, the prophets and writers of God spoke into those uncomfortable presents to make meaning and do the work that needed to be done. This pandemic has lasted too long to just wait for it to go away. This IS our present, this one, not the one we expected, and God is with us in it, and God is working with us to build a bridge that can support the future.

I wonder what it will take to sort through the stories of the past, to tell them and hear them, and pick from them what stories we need to take with us into the future. I wonder how we get better at being in this uncomfortable and ambiguous now. I suspect a lot of it has to do with telling stories, and with taking the time to listen to God and ourselves. It has to do with not rushing away, but being present. And so once again, I invite you into the uncomfortable, into the present, into the NOW, with trust that God meets us here. Amen

Time with Young People

What is it like to be YOUR AGE years old today? What do I need to know, since I haven’t ever been YOUR AGE OLD in today?

Things are different than they have been, and it is hard to make sense of, but I’d love to know what you know, as I try to tell you what I know.

I”m 40 years old right now, and … I still have dreams that I am in public and forgot my mask…. and I also left the house this weke and got 5 steps away before I realized I really had forgotten my mask. My brain still forgets even big changes!!!

God is with us, God will always be with us, and God helps us adapt. Thanks be to God!

1 12.

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 5, 2021

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November 28, 2021
by Sara Baron

“The Future. The Past. Grief.” based on Jeremiah 33:14-16 and Luke 21:25-36

“There will be signs in the sun, the moon, and the stars, and on the earth distress among nations confused by the roaring of the sea and the waves. People will faint from fear and foreboding of what is coming upon the world, for the powers of the heavens will be shaken.”

I can just HEAR the me from two years ago whining about the weird Advent passages, and how dark and gloomy they are, and can’t we have a more thematic set of readings. I can hear her, but I’m NOT her anymore.

The 2021 version of me reads these passages with relief, glad that the dystopian realities of the past two years have expression in our Holy Scriptures. Because, truly, people have fainted from fear – and with good cause. The powers of heaven and earth have been shaken. Foreboding has become normal, and all the nations of the earth are distressed.

YES, thank you Luke for putting it words.

I almost wish he hadn’t switched topics quite so quickly. I find I’m not quite ready to believe that all of this is going to be fixed by Jesus returning on a cloud, and there have been far too many metaphorical green leaves sprouting without metaphorical figs arriving for me to read the signs quite like that anymore.

However, when the passages ends with Luke suggesting, “Be alert at all times, praying that you may have the strength to escape all these things that will take place,” I do find that wish I’d heeded that advice, because strength has sure been needed, and I wish I’d prayed more to find it before everything came to pass.

Now, of course, unlike the first generation of Christians, I’m not expecting the end of the world imminently, nor expecting that the signs I see today suggest that’s coming. However, I believe we have all lived an end of the world as we knew it, and that requires some time to process and accept it.

Advent is a time of longing, and waiting, and hoping. It is a time when we acknowledge how broken things are, and how desperately we need God’s help to make them better. It is a time when we join in the yearning of people of faith throughout the ages, waiting for righteousness and justice and the kindom of God, and noticing that IT IS NOT HERE YET.

Friends, it is not here yet.

It doesn’t feel very close.

It feels further away than ever.

And I don’t even want to tell you all the reasons why, because I know your hearts are already broken, and I don’t think they need any additional burdens.

So I’m not going to. I’m going to trust that you’ve noticed that things are NOT RIGHT, and VERY BROKEN, and it is NOT OK.

And now I’m going to ask you to do something that you may not want to do.

I’m going to ask you to stay with the brokenness, and how much it hurts, and how awful it is, and all the emotions that come with it. I’m going to ask you not to think of ways to fix it, or what books or articles to read about it, or what music or game could help you forget about it, or what little unrelated thing you could try fix just to feel like you still have some power in the world. I’m going to ask that you just let it hurt.

I’m going to ask that you let yourself hurt, let yourself grieve, let your spirit wander around lost – and sad – and angry – and confused – and … most of all that you let it be without trying to fix it or ignore it.

This, dear ones, is the Advent I think we need.

Because we lost the world as we knew it, and it has been so scary and awful and disconnected that we’ve just tried to keep on keeping on, and so we didn’t ever deal with it. And so it has been dealing with us.

When I sit with people who have lost dear ones, I advise them that their job is to sit on the couch and cry. I worry that if people don’t sit on the couch, stare at nothing, and cry intermittently, that the grief will just ache harder and longer.

I want us to do that. To be with the pain, like God is with us. Emmanuel is one of the words we come back to every Advent – “God with us.” God is with us, and we need to be with ourselves as God is with us.

Over the course of my leave, I found myself coming to the song “Come and Find the Quiet Center” again and again, and its wisdom deepened in me as the weeks past. This week it is the second verse that is speaking most strongly to me:

Silence is a friend who claims us, cools the heat and slows the pace, God it is who speaks and names us, knows our being, touches base, making space within our thinking, lifting shades to show the sun, raising courage when we’re shrinking, finding scope for faith begun.

I’ve chosen this hymn as our Advent song, hoping that some silence and slowed paces might be gifts to all of us (and not just me.) I don’t want us to rush to Christmas this year, I want us to slow down the pace, listen to ourselves, and listen for God. I believe that grief takes TIME, and we need to give that time.

I think of what it takes for wounds to heal: they need to be clean, and dry, and protected. They can’t continue to be agitated and still heal. And even when all those factors are taken care of, it just takes time. That’s true in bodies, but I think its true in our spirits and souls too.

It is EASY to feel anxious and act out in unproductive ways, trying to change that feeling. It is hard to sit with our anxieties, and listen to them.

God calls us to do it anyway.

So I ask you some questions for this Advent:

What grief needs time to be heard?
Where is it that we are waiting for God to break in?
Where do we see God with us?

And, I invite you into a time of waiting, in the midst of brokenness, of silence and stillness. I welcome you to Advent.

Amen

–

Call to Advent

Siblings in Christ,

I call you to seek quiet, to seek God,

To let pain be.

To name what you’ve lost, and what we’ve lost,

To name what is broken (at least for yourself)

To let God into the tender-most parts of your being,

to make space for darkness, and allow pain and darkness to set the pace.

God is with us, Emmanuel,

may we take the time to be with 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

November 28, 2021

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November 21, 2021
by Sara Baron

“Questions to Ask” based on John 18:33-27

Today is “Reign of Christ Sunday,” which used to be called “Christ the King Sunday” … which means that I’d really like to spend some time thinking about how it would feel to talk about “Christ the Queen” Sunday, but ALAS it is also “Giving Sunday” (the culmination of our Stewardship Campaign), AND it is the day we are doing our Church Conference AND it is my first Sunday in the pulpit after 8 weeks off, and there just seems to be a lot to talk about all at once.

Let me start with this: It is well with my soul.

I really needed the time off, I was closer to burn out than I knew. I was hurting more than I knew. I was more desperately in need of quiet time with God than I knew – and that simple fact taught me a lot.

Friends, one of my greatest temptations in life is the temptation to be EFFICIENT. I like to get things done, and the particular reality of clergy work is that there is always more work to get done than can actually be done. These are a bad combination, and all too often I’ve allowed them to get in the way of simply connecting with God.

Yet, I’d imagine that if any of you were thinking about the most important thing you want from your faith leader, it would be that I am grounded in my relationship with God. (Hmmm, ok, it occurs to me that you are a vibrantly diverse community and lots of you would have other answers, but I think this would be NEAR the top at least.)

Over the course of my leave, I sought to take an hour a day to simply be with God, most of the time in silence. It was GLORIOUS. I remembered grace from the inside out. I found peace within. And I realized that by prizing efficiency over my own spiritual well-being I’d been draining my own resources and doing a dis-service to those trusting me to remain grounded.

So the most important things I want you to know about my leave is that I found my “Quiet Center”, and that I realized I need to keep it. Start next week, I want to invite you to do some of that seeking and finding too, because I don’t think I’m alone in needing it, but that’s Advent, and this is Reign of Christ, and I’m ready to talk about that now.

For some, this leads to the REALLY good question, “What is Reign of Christ Sunday?” and it is the last Sunday of our liturgical year, and as such we set it aside as a time to remember that God is God and we are not, and the kindom of God is the goal of our lives, and other things are not. Or, in more traditional language, God is King and the Kings and Queens and Leaders of this world are NOT the most important ones to us.

This, I hope, leads us to the big questions of, “What does that look like?” and “How does that matter?” Which is fantastic, because those are the questions that link together Reign of Christ Sunday with Giving Sunday and Stewardship.

Without God, consumerism, Capitalism, and all sorts of other systems that define our value by our economic input and output, and place competition to survive at the center our lives become the default. The Kings, Queens, and leaders vary, but the systems that oppress, dominate, and compete just take on different names and variations.

When we talk of the Reign of Christ or the Kindom of God, we’re talking about an entirely different value system. One where the value of life is inherent, and the goals are collective well-being and collaboration. One where we work towards everyone thriving, without exception.

And THAT is why we give of our resources to build the kindom of God. In the United Methodist Church our membership vows say that we “faithfully participate in the church’s ministries with our prayers, presence, gifts, service, and witness.” That’s pretty extensive, and it is a helpful metric. In fact, I think it is helpful to consider how we give of those 5 things within the church and how we use them beyond the church community as well – in our beyond the church kindom building.

How are we using prayer to build up the church community and its ministries? And how are we using prayer to build up the community at large? For me, prayer is about connecting with the Divine, finding God’s wisdom within me, slowing down enough to notice what really matters, and becoming more whole. It is my hope that when I pray, and become more whole, I am more useful to the church and to the community at large. But again, more on that later.

How do we use our presence to build up the church community and its people? And how does our presence act as a blessing beyond the church? Well this one got complicated at the start of the pandemic, didn’t it? One of my favorite confirmation class moments was when the students told me that they feel more open to the Divine when other people who they trust are also present and seeking the Divine, and that’s why they think people commit to each other to show up for worship. I hadn’t found those words before they did, and I think about their wisdom a lot! However, we’re now living in a reality where showing up is more complicated – it may be the blessing of presence but it can ALSO be the danger of exposure!! The work of navigating that tension has been exhausting!! That said, the questions matter just as much as ever, and the need to struggle with how to be “present” and what that looks like is more important than ever.

How do we use our gifts to build up the church and its ministries, and how do we use them to build up the world? Now, while I believe we are all blessed with a multitude of gifts, I think this vow is really largely financial gifts, which don’t fall into other categories. We live in a society with incredible income disparity, much like Jesus did. The Poor People’s campaign estimates that 45% of our NY state population lives in poverty,1slightly higher than the 43.5% nationwide. Clearly, members of our church come from a wide range of socio-economic standings, and what people are able to give varies widely. Kevin and I believe in tithing, and we are able to tithe, so we do. But that doesn’t actually feel sufficient to us. We aim to contribute similar giving to other organizations and worthy causes, which is a goal we’re still working on. But we seek to use our financial resources for the well-being of the church AND of the world. We know that we are lucky to be able to give, and we are grateful to have a church to give to that we believe in, and to know that there are so many fantastic non-profits we wish to support.

How do we use our service to build up the church and its ministries, and how do we use our service to build up our communities? This, I think, is the place for the wider interpretation of “gifts.” I remain amazed at the many gifts present in the Body of Christ – from music to knowing how to help people navigate Social Services to making sure our roofs get repaired and SO MUCH MORE. Furthermore, the contributions that church members make in the community gets noticed – people think there are MORE OF US than there are, because of the contributions that get made. However, these sorts of gifts require some tending to as well. We’re living in an era of BURN OUT, and things that were once life-giving can become life-draining. God isn’t interested in consuming us… or burning us out, and so we have to pay attention to the service we give. On the other hand, there are many ways we can stretch and grow, and PLAY in service, so sometimes a simple change in where we serve can bring relief. Finally, serving is one of the most enjoyable parts of life, and if you need help finding a place to serve, I’m your person!

That leaves us with witness. How do we use our witness to build up the church and its ministries, and how do we use it to build up the world? I suspect many people have the Francis of Assisi answer’s ready, “preach the gospel at all times and if necessary use words.” I love that answer myself, although these days it sounds a little bit too easy, and maybe not quite true enough. People in society are far too often MEAN these days, and I have some fear that many of us are… people in society. We get triggered. We get impatient. We get stressed. We get bored. We get scared. And we act out in ways that do not preach the gospel at all. I know we all WANT to be expressions of God’s love in the world, and I know NONE of us are capable of enacting that perfectly, nor do we need to be judged for our imperfection. Yet the questions remain, how do we use our witness? And maybe that comes with another question, that is “how do I let God build me up so that I have enough love to share?” And, funny enough,that goes back to prayer, to Advent, to quiet, to God, and to the things I’m going to get around to next week and throughout Advent.

Loving God means loving God’s people and God’s creation. Loving God’s people and creation means taking responsibility for their well-being, and THAT means paying attention to the use of our prayers, our presence, our gifts, our service, and our witness. AND THAT is how we aim to recognize Christ as our Queen, or our King, as the one we aim to serve.

May God help us as we wrestle with the responsibilities of faith. Amen

1https://www.poorpeoplescampaign.org/wp-content/uploads/2020/02/CostofPoverty_FINAL.pdf

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 21, 2021

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September 5, 2021
by Sara Baron

“Interconnected” based on James 1:17-27

Welcome to the book of James. It is one of my favorites, despite the fact that it takes away one of my best preaching tools. That is, I usually spend a lot of time explaining context and making sense of a scripture in the time and place it was written. But James is almost a form of wisdom literature. It is universal. So, we’re able to spend our time on the ideas in the book directly.

James is written to the followers of Jesus in the diaspora – that is, those who lived outside of the Holy Land. The ones who had been DISPERSED from the land of their ancestors in faith. This feels relevant right now too. I don’t know any church members at FUMC Schenectady who would claim modern Palestine or Israel as their native land, but I think that all of us are displaced from the “land” we once knew, and have not yet settled into the “land” we’ll live in eventually. The Pandemic has displaced us all (although not all the same amount.)

In this opening chapter of the book of James, we are urged to LIVE our faith. James wants faith in ACTION. He urges people not to just listen to preachers 😉 but to LIVE their faith, and he gets rather specific about it. James believes that people who are followers of Jesus should be acting out different values than the world’s.

The crux of the advice from today’s passage is “let everyone be quick to listen, slow to speak, slow to anger; for your anger does not produce God’s righteousness.” For James, this is integral in what it means to be “religious” – right up there with caring about God’s beloveds who the world doesn’t value (“widows and orphans.”)

As far as I can figure it out, the work of Christians is to build the kindom of God. The kindom, sometimes called the beloved community, is God’s vision for the world. We will know it is here when the power of love overcomes the love of power; when the abundant resources of the world are used for the good of all people; when kin-ship connections cross all boundaries; when the poorest and most vulnerable people have enough to survive and thrive; when no one has to teach anyone about God because God is known by all. The kindom is God’s long term plan for us, and our work to get there happens in two broad ways: first, by creating Christian communities where we practice kin-dom values and treat each other like we’re already there and second by working with God to share love, to seek mercy, and advocate for justice so that the world is healed.

One of the parts of kindom building that can be hard sometimes is that it requires seeing clearly what the world is like now. We have to do this so we can hold it in tension with how God would have the world be in the kindom, but often the aching pain of the world as it is can be hard to let ourselves see clearly. For instance, we can’t work towards a world without rape and violence unless we admit that we live in a world with rape and violence, and that there are barriers to changing it. So, we seek to see clearly. We seek to see how things are AND how God wants them to be.

Now, I don’t want to shock you or anything, but the United States is a highly individualistic society. (The kindom is not.) We in the US have proven to the world how terribly individualism works – time and time again. Including in our responses to the COVID-19 Pandemic.

You might think that if you were looking at this pandemic with clear eyes that you would see that none of us can be well unless all of us are well- that we are collectively only as healthy as the least healthy among us – that every act of protection and prevention has enormous ripple effects. However, if we had learned this lesson, we’d be spending as much as possible to make it feasible to vaccinate every willing person in the world as soon as possible. We’d even do this before triple vaccinating our own population, because slowing down the spread of the virus is the most important way to keep everyone safe, healthy, and alive. The well being of all and the well being of the USA actually align! Yet, we miss the mark.

The book of James has an interesting perspective on the relationship that Christians have to the world. In the face of the injustices of the Roman Empire, the wealth inequality, the slavery, the power imbalances, the death rates of the poor, James urges the faithful … not to get angry.

I find that my first instinct is to argue with this a little bit. “Are you sure?” “What about when…?” Yet, even as I argue, I am convicted by this passage.

Society is rife with anger. Anger is pulling us apart at the seams. Some of the anger, I’d argue, is “righteous.” It is a response to injustice that needs to be seen, acknowledged, named, and addressed. We’ll talk about that in a moment.

Most of the anger is misplaced. The anger is being used to create groups of “us” that stand against “them,” and those distinctions dismiss that everyone in both groups are beloveds of God. The anger is being used to provoke fear, sell products, pass unjust laws, and elect politicians. The anger is being USED.

And James points out directly that the people who want others to get angry are selling them on the idea that if they get angry enough, they will provoke God to action. James says it won’t work though. God will act when God will act, and furthermore, prayer is a better way to go about it. Anger serves the people promoting it, not God.

But what about righteous anger? As I’ve been saying recently, anger is a “secondary” emotion. That is, it exists like a red flag to mark a place where something that is held precious is being violated. It lets us know when our values are attacked, and underneath that is another emotion. Most often anger is there to act as the bodyguard to sadness or the diversion to fear.

Sadness and fear are sufficient. They can guide us to good action, they can show us the ways of compassion, they can help us grow together. They are wise enough, that once we find them, we can let go of the anger that guided us to them.

Which means that the way to be “slow to anger” is often to identify anger, and then sit with it and find out what is underneath it. It means that we sometimes need to listen – to ourselves and our tender emotions. God is there, with us when we listen, with us when we feel, with us when we discover what is under our anger. This is, even, a form of God’s healing, God’s salve in our lives.

Of course, “be slow to anger” is the third piece of advice we’re given in today’s passage. The first two are to be quick to listen and slow to speak. It seems clear that James’ advice is aimed at faith COMMUNITIES, because his advice is aimed at deepening and maintaining good relationships among the followers of Jesus.

For the past several years, I have participated in “listening circles.” These intentional spaces have careful guidelines that are aimed at making sure there is holy and sacred space for listening – and speaking. At times there have been 20 or 30 people in these circles, and you might think that there would be a lot more speaking than listening. But, there isn’t. Often there are prolonged silences between speakers, and they feel like time to absorb the wisdom one beloved of God has offered. When the obligation to have a response is taken away, along with the tendency toward chit-chat, there is spaciousness for silence and listening.

When I hear James say, “be quick to listen, slow to speak” I think of how healing those circles have been in my life. I love being freed from having to have a response to something someone says, and instead just listen to them and receive their wisdom. And, when I do speak into such a space, I am astounded at the power that comes with being heard with love.

As much as I have loved these experiences though, it isn’t clear to me how to live “be quick to listen, slow to speak” ALL the time. Really listening to another of God’s beloveds takes energy and attention, and … let’s be honest dear ones, those are finite resources!!! We will drain ourselves if we try to listen WELL all the time. (I’ve tried.)

That said, there is a being who is capable of listening with complete attention, and full energy, with love and compassion, with care and support – all day, every day, to all of us. God, the creator, sustainer, redeemer has gifted us with life, and God is with us breathing new life into us day by day, hour by hour, minute by minute, and even second by second. When we seek God in prayer and meditation, we find that God is close at hand, ready and able to offer us healing. When all we have to offer are sighs too deep for words, God knows what we mean. When we are full of words, God listens until we have exhausted them. When we are able to be with the Divine in holy silence, God meets us there. And, of course, when what we offer God is our listening, …

well, that’s when things really start to happen 😉

James encourages us to an active faith – not just to worship God once a week, but to live out faith in every day. He reminds us that the very people the world dismisses (the “widows and orphans”) are the ones that followers of Christ take care of. James doesn’t hate the world – though he isn’t impressed with it either – but he doesn’t think being angry with it is going to change it. James encourages the people of faith to act differently. Take care of the struggling and vulnerable, listen deeply, speak with intention, slow down anger and learn its lessons instead of acting it out. Don’t replicate the brokenness of the world – change it.

So, dear ones of God, I invite you to God’s restoration, God’s healing of the world, God’s work of the Kindom: be quick to listen; be slow to speak; be slow to anger. With such “simple” acts as these, we can heal the world. May God help 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

September 5, 2021

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August 29, 2021
by Sara Baron

“Friend, Lover, Parent” based on Song of Solomon 2:8-13

Who is the best friend you’ve ever had? The one who listened to what you said and what you didn’t say, the one who could make you laugh with a simple look, the one you trusted to tell you the truth even when you didn’t want to hear it, and trusted to have your back even if you’d done something wrong??

I hope for you that you have had such a friend, and that if you haven’t, that you WILL have such a friend. I hope you have enough such friends it is hard to figure out who is the best. But whether such a friendship has lasted your whole life, or it was a short lived one, or even one you read about rather than experienced directly, I invite you to consider how it felt.

Keb’ Mo’s song “One Friend” has the refrain:

All I need is one friend
To get me through the
Day
One friend
That never goes away
Only one friend
To understand
And never let me down

The whole is a better place with a friend, and it is a whole lot less lonely. One of the “universal human needs” is “shared reality” and when I think of friendship, I often think of it as centering around “shared reality.” Well, that and “affection” and “humor.”

There is an intimacy to friendship, a joy in being known and seen and in seeing and knowing another. It makes life meaningful. And fun. Friendships make space for authenticity, imperfection, emotions, spontaneity, and general quirkiness. They let us be who we are, and help us let go of who we’re supposed to be.

The primary metaphor for God in Christianity is of God the Father. When we’re being expansive that becomes God as Parent, and occasionally God as Mother. But the primary metaphor is a top down one. God sets the rules, God sits in judgement, God knows better than we do.

In their essence, a lot of arguments I hear within The United Methodist could easily be boiled down to, “Do you believe in a Daddy-knows-best (Paternalistic)sort of God or in an everyones-opinions-and-needs-are-valued-here (egalitarian) sort of God?” They’re both parenting styles, and they largely buy in to the “God as Parent” metaphor.

At one point in my life, a friend who belongs to the Self-Realization Fellowship asked I was at that particular time most connected to God through the metaphor of parent, the metaphor of lover, or the metaphor as friend. This was his take on the usefulness of the Trinitarian model, and I rather like it. He put the three metaphors on equal footing, and when he entered into prayer and meditation, checked with himself to see which aspect of the Divine was accessible to him at that point.

The passage from the Song of Songs seems to guide us a little bit more towards the God-as-lover metaphor, but I decided to start with friendship because I think the point of BOTH is intimacy. Our culture brings so much baggage to sexuality and romance that it can become hard to shake off the baggage and see what’s underneath it.

Also, despite the extensive tradition of sexualizing one’s spirituality (today most visible in “Jesus is my boyfriend” music, historically most visible in mystic monasticism), I prefer to think of the two as informing each other rather than overlapping.

The best part of our intimate relationships (friendships or sexual/romantic relationships) teach us useful skills that we can bring to our spirituality. The best parts of our spiritual connection with the Divine helps us bring our fullest self to other intimate relationships.

Every experience we have of mutuality, of connection, of love, and of intimacy makes possible the next one. As we build our capacity to trust “the Other” with ourselves, we get better at trust. And all of these things – mutuality, connection, love, intimacy, and trust are aspects of friendship, of sexual and/or romantic relationships, and of our spirituality.

As people, we YEARN for connection. We’re also scared of it. And that applies to people and to God!

The book Song of Solomon is a series of erotic love poems. For many people, it is a surprise to find it in the Bible! And yet, many, many, MANY of our ancestors in faith considered it the pinnacle of the Bible itself. Many interpreters try to spiritualize the erotic text, taking one of the lovers as the Nation of Israel, or the Church, or a single person of faith, and God as the other lover. I’m less interested in those interpretations, and far more interested in the ones that think that the Song is about two human lovers.

If the Song of Songs is about two human lovers who appreciate each other’s love, and bodies, and passion, then it is in the Bible as a reminder that the love of PEOPLE can open us to the love of God and the love of God can open us to the love of people. Also, if it is a celebration of physical love, then we are quite simply reminded of the potential goodness of physical love and in our society, that’s an imperative reminder.

Dear ones, I believe the point here is quite simple: nurture healthy love where-ever you find it. Celebrate healthy love at every opportunity. Make time for love, make space for love, and make love a priority. Because love nurtures love, and love is what matters.

Thanks be to the God of love and relationships. 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

August 31, 2021

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August 15, 2021
by Sara Baron

“The Fabled Wisdom of Solomon” based on 1 Kings 2:10-12 and 3:3-14

(Image: Lamp of Wisdom, Waterperry Gardens, Oxfordshire, England)

What I wouldn’t give for the wisdom of Solomon right now. I’ve prayed for it already, lack of asking isn’t the issue. Life feels like a series of unanswerable questions. “Is this safe?” “Is this wise?” “Is this fair?” “Who does this exclude?” “Whose needs does this meet?” “How do I create balance?” “Whose needs do I prioritize?” “How can I find a middle way?” “How do I manage risk? As a person? As a parent? As a pastor?” “What are the risks of NOT doing the thing?” “How do they compare to the risks of DOING the thing?” “How worried should I be?” “How courageous should I be?”

I’ll stop. It’s probably unpleasant to hear already, and truthfully those are MOST of the questions, they just repeat a lot. Furthermore, these are variations on the themes of everyone’s questions, maybe with a little bit more pressure on those making decisions for others or for groups.

We’re nearing 18 months of pandemic based impossible decision making. I’m also nearing 15 months of parent based impossible decision making, which has led to SO MUCH more respect for every other human who parents or offers caregiving. (I already had respect for those things, but my respect has increased exponentially.)

I find myself thinking about presidents who wear the same thing every day, or offload trivial decisions so that they can keep their capacities for the important stuff. I remember articles about how our decision making capacities are finite, and I think about how incredibly overwhelming it has been to be in this “new world” where everything carries risk and every decision is suddenly BIGGER.

And I want to be Solomon. I want to be blessed by God to be wise. I want God to give me “a wise and discerning mind.” I want to know what to do!!!!!!

But even as I say this, I realize that I have projected onto Solomon and on to this blessing from God a supernatural sort of wisdom and discernment. I’ve read this story and assumed that Solomon always knew what to do, and was always right when he decided. But, I don’t actually BELIEVE that. That would be superhuman.

(Also, if that were true, then the kingdom of Solomon likely would have outlasted … say … Solomon because he would have been able to fix the underlying issues and pick a good successor.)

Which means that the Bible has just served as a very good inkblot test for me to realize that in the midst of incredible uncertainty, certainty would be superhuman. (Or dangerous. That’s another way this can go.) I yearn to feel good about decisions, but that’s not possible right now. I yearn to feel confident as I decide, but that isn’t possible right now either. I yearn, truthfully, to pass my authority off to someone wiser, more prepared, better read – but no one knows the struggles and the questions I face quite like I do, so there isn’t anyone to pass them to.

John Wesley’s “Three Simple Rules”: “First do no harm, then do all the good you can, and stay in love with God” have never seemed so hard to work with!

To keep the challenging more challenging, people judge each other on decisions. I can’t remember the last time I had a conversation that didn’t involve either 1. someone who had to make hard decisions struggling with what is right OR 2. someone who doesn’t have to make the decisions frustrated with those who made them. I hear clergy and bosses worrying over safety procedures, balancing risk tolerance with the will of the body with the needs of the vulnerable. And, at the same time, I hear others complaining on ALL sides.

I’m definitely not Solomon, but I want to offer to all of you some of the models and tools I bring to discernment, under the assumption that we’re all bogged down by the weight of all these decisions. Welcome to a pragmatic sermon. 😉

In terms of the pandemic itself, I’ve been really grateful for an idea I heard put into words in the NY Times in June of 2020.

Manage your exposure budget

Risk is cumulative. Going forward, you’ll need to make trade-offs, choosing activities that are most important to you (like seeing an aging parent) and skipping things that might matter less (an office going-away party). Think about managing virus risk just as you might manage a diet: If you want dessert, eat a little less for dinner.1

During a pandemic, every member of the household should manage their own exposure budget. (Think Weight Watchers points for virus risk.) You spend very few budget points for low-risk choices like a once-a-week grocery trip or exercising outdoors. You spend more budget points when you attend an indoor dinner party, get a haircut or go to the office. You blow your budget completely if you spend time in a crowd.2

This has been super helpful. I often call it the “risk budget.” We all have different risk tolerance, and we have different things we particularly value and need. I hear from many families with kids that day care or school are imperative to someone in the family’s well being, and so they do it. But then their risk budget is spent. I hear from others that going to work and being exposed to a whole lot of people is already an over extension of their risk budget, and they fear bringing something home to their kids, so they don’t do anything else.

I’m mentioning this right now, because people without kids or other unvaccinated people in their households have had an increase in risk tolerance, and aren’t always seeing how carefully others have to manage their risk budget. And, for some in our community that means not coming to worship – even outside, even masked, even distanced – because even that TINY bit of increased exposure is more than the budget can handle.

It isn’t really a FUN thing, a risk budget, but it brings a model to something otherwise incredibly overwhelming. Deciding on each individual activity separately is simply too much for any of us, so a budget gives us a guideline on how to make decisions. It also reminds us that we’re working with different budgets and different expenditures, and none of us need to judge how someone else makes their decisions.

Not quite the fabled wisdom of Solomon, I’ll grant, but a tool nonetheless.

Another simple tool is one I’ve mentioned before. “Daily examen” is a prayer process. It is quite simple. You center yourself, ask for God’s help, review the past 24 hours, identitfy when you felt most alive and connected with love, identity when you felt most disconnected from life and love, thank God for the best the worst and all that’s in-between, and either share that information with another person or write it down. It is entirely too easy to zombie our way through life, especially in the surreal pandemic times. But taking the time to be reflective helps us learn about life, ourselves, God, and what we value. It helps us learn what we need to change, and what we actually love about our lives as they are. This is the single best discernment tool I know, although it is most useful for BIG HUGE decisions that can be made over an extended period of time.

My final “simple” tool is one of those deceptive ones. It is simple, in ideas, but it is much harder in practice. It is: trust God to be working in and through you. That is, notice when something feels off-kilter in you, and trust that it is significant and matters. THIS is the most subversive thing I’m saying today. Trust the wisdom of your body as being connected to the wisdom of the Divine, and when a decision brings a dull ache to your gut or any other part of your body STOP and listen. Figure out what emotions fit into that ache. Then, figure out what needs are under that emotion. (Handy-dandy helpful pdf chart here: Feelings/Needs). We KNOW more than we think we do, and God often works with us in subtle and embodied ways. As we learn to trust ourselves, we are learning to trust God-who-is-with-us-and-for-us.

Well friends, it doesn’t feel like much, and it DEFINITELY doesn’t feel like the fabled wisdom of Solomon, but in the midst of unending difficult decisions, I hope these little tools are gifts for you. May God help us all, as we discern. Amen

1 I’m not convinced diet culture is safe nor healthy, but I left the reference in because I fear it is familiar.

2 Tara Parker-Pope “5 Rules to Live By During a Pandemic” https://www.nytimes.com/2020/06/09/well/live/coronavirus-rules-pandemic-infection-prevention.html June 9, 2020.

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August 8, 2021
by Sara Baron

“God, Stress, and Abundant Lives” based on 1 Kings 19:4-8

I’m mad. Mad that we – the big collective we – might have beaten this virus if we trusted our experts and prioritized collective well-being. Mad that we “can’t have nice things” still, EVEN THOUGH science provided amazing vaccines in an unbelievably short time. Mad that I have to make decisions no one– including me – likes because the first rule of John Wesley is “first do no harm” and I really believe we have to do that.

But, a friend sent an article this week that pointed out that I’m not mad. I just think I’m mad. Or, more so, that anger is a secondary emotion that works well to mask primary emotions. The article said the emotion that I’m actually feeling is fear. (Note: do not try this at home. Do not tell someone what they’re “really feeling” when they tell you what they ARE feeling. Really, truly. DO NOT DO THIS. The article got away with it by taking about generic people and I personalized.) The article speaks about people choosing not to be vaccinated and vaccinated people’s anger responses:

Though this new flavor of outrage might look and sound like righteous indignation, mental health professionals say that what’s behind it is fear.

“It’s scary to admit that somebody else has power over you and you’re at their mercy and you’re afraid of them, but showing that is not a very American ideal,” said David Rosmarin, an associate professor of psychiatry at Harvard Medical School and a clinician at McLean Hospital. “Instead of expressing that fear, it’s a lot more comfortable to blame somebody else.”

Anger is what people in his profession refer to as a “secondary emotion.” It’s a feeling that arises in response to a more primal emotion, like fear and anxiety over having some aspect of your life threatened. “The reality is that there are millions of people who are miseducated about something, they’re making a big mistake that will have massive consequences that might affect you and your family and that makes you scared,” Rosmarin said. “But nobody is saying that.”1

That article also says that part of what people are struggling with is that this was always going to be a “long war” but we didn’t get that message from the outset. That fits for me too, I deal better when I have my expectations set correctly.

Two years ago I preached on this passage from 1 Kings 19, and afterwards several of you mentioned that you could hear in it my yearning for a break. (It was fairly soon before my renewal leave.) I hadn’t meant to be that transparent then, and it makes me want to be a little bit cautious now, but….the story hasn’t changed.

This remains a story of Elijah, prophet of God who has worked diligently for what he believed God wanted him to do. The response to his faithfulness has been a threat of murder that came directly from the palace.

Elijah is too tired to fight anymore. He fled for his life, but in the midst of the flight he lost even the will to live.

He prays, asking God to let him die, which would at least be less violent than the death otherwise planned for him. He’d walked into the desert for a day, and when he prayed he sat under a single broom tree, the only bit of respite he could find. The Bible seems to suggest this is a particularly sad story, it is the same one told of Hagar, having walked into the desert, exhausted her provisions, sat under a broom, and prepared to die. Just like with Hagar though, God meets Elijah there.

You may already know how much I love this story. He falls asleep, and wakes up when provisions have arrived. He eats, he drinks, he falls back asleep. When he awakes, provisions have arrived. He eats, he drinks, AND THEN he was able to go on.

I really love that he needs to sleep, eat, drink, sleep, eat, and drink before he can rouse himself. He has gone far beyond the “have a cup of coffee and keep going” point. He is exhausted. He is out of will power. He is out of a will to LIVE. If I were writing this story though, I’d add in some breathing. “He took intentional deep breathes until he was able to slow his body enough to sleep…” and then the rest of the story. It would make it just a smidge better.

Probably because of the book I just read, I’m noticing that the story as written (and more so as adapted), Elijah is given the chance to “complete the stress cycle” in this story. The book is “Burnout: The Secret to Unlocking the Stress Cycle” written by Emily and Amelia Nagoski. In their opening chapter, they distinguish between stressors and stress. They point out that we need to complete the stress cycle, no matter what is happening with the stressors. And they name, concretely, how to do that. The first and best option is to “do literally anything to move your body enough to get you breathing deeply” for 20-60 minutes a day.2 Elijah walking into the desert for an entire day seems to qualify.

The Nagoski sisters offer 6 other ways to complete the cycle though: 1. “deep, slow breaths down regulate the stress response”3, 2. positive social encounters (even causal ones), 3. laughter – but the real deep belly laughter kind, 4. physical affection from someone you trust (they suggest a 6 second kiss between partners or a 20 second hug with someone you like, snuggling a pet), 5. crying, and 6. creative expression. In other chapters they also talk about meditation and spiritual connection, so I’m going to add a #7 – whatever prayer practices work for you. They’re suggesting that we do at least one of these, and better many of these, every day. Because the stressors keep coming at us. And their book was written in 2019, so it is WAY MORE TRUE today.

So Elijah. He took a long walk (check), I’m all for pretending he took some slow breaths, he maybe had a positive encounter with the angel? (does that count??), and I’m quite sure he cried a lot, the Bible just forgot to mention it. He also took care of his bodily needs for rest, nourishment, and hydration. (Chapter 7 of their book is all about rest.) He also named his despair to God, and naming emotions has a lot of power too.

This little story has a lot of good responses to despair and burnout. Which is good, because many of us are in despair and/or burnout in at least some aspects of our lives.

The pandemic has challenged all of us. The challenges have differed, because we’re different, but we’ve all been challenged. Having another wave is definitely not helping anybody. We’re mad, whether or not that’s a primary emotion, sad, fearful, and maybe even detached. We’re exhausted.

And most of us are comfort seeking. We want things to be easier. We NEED things to be easier. We’re looking for things that sooth, ease, comfort, and console. Often, we’re looking for things to be “back to normal,” familiar, and make sense like we’re used to. We’re human. That’s how we work.

Another facet of how we work is that when we’re in high stress, we revert to earlier and lower levels of emotional functioning. We blame. We over react. We fight. We flee. We gossip. We triangulate. We take all our anxiety and we try to get rid of it by sharing it with others or throwing it at them. This too is human. It is how we work.

No one I know is operating at their best right now. We can’t.

What we can do is seek to complete the stress cycles – we can’t change most of the stressors, but we can give ourselves the best possible chance to change the stress. Our bodies, minds, and spirits are all connected, they’re all “us.” When we care for each of them, we give all of them a chance to do better.

I believe that God calls us all to life abundant. To full, meaningful, connected lives. To spiritual depth and work that matters and relationships that give life. Elijah went from that broom tree to the Mount of Horeb where he deepened his relationship with God, and then on to meet his protege Elisha and started to pass on his labor to the next generation. It wasn’t God’s intention that Elijah struggle alone, or burn himself out. It isn’t God’s will that we struggle alone nor burn ourselves out either. God wishes for full, abundant lives for us all. That’s part of why we take care of each other, and share love in the world. So, dear ones, I encourage you to complete your stress cycles, name your emotions, connect with your dear ones, engage in prayer, and live life as abundantly as you can. God wants it for us, we want it for each other, and the world needs us as healthy as we can be! May God help us. Amen

1 https://www.statnews.com/2021/08/02/belated-realization-that-covid-will-be-a-long-war-sparks-anger-denial/

2 Emily Nagoski and Amelia Nagoski Burnout: The Secret to Unlokcing the Stress Cycle (New York: Ballantine Books, 2019) p. 14.

3 Nagoski, 15.

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August 1, 2021
by Sara Baron

“Every. Single. Time.” based on Exodus 16:2-4, 9-15

As far as I can tell, the stories of the wandering in the desert are stories of the people learning dependence on God. Many of the stories of Exodus repeat the narrative “(1) Something was wrong, the people were worried. (2) The people complained. (3) God provided.” Since deserts aren’t super hospitable to life, they make sense as places people can learn their dependence. The writer of Deuteronomy ends up worrying that once the people enter the “land of milk and honey” they’ll forget that they are dependent on God. In the early centuries of Christianity the “Desert Fathers and Mothers” returned to the desert to seek connection with the Divine, and learn again the lessons of dependence.

Historically, there are some reasons to question the overarching narrative of the 40 year wandering in the desert. It may be MORE true that some of the proto-Israelites were desert nomads for a prolonged time in their history, and some of the proto-Israelites were slaves who had escaped from Egypt, and some of the proto-Israelites were Canaanites who decide to follow YHWH when the nomads and former slaves told their stories about YHWH. I rather like this idea, because it is pretty easy to see how nomadic hunter-gatherers in a harsh desert climate would definitely experience the gift of life as a gift from God. And, that their descendants who lived a more settled and fertile existence could relatively quickly change their minds about how lucky they are to be simply alive.

I rather like how these stories begin. The people are frightened for their lives. There is a lack of FOOD or WATER, and those are seriously dangerous lacks. The stories present frightened people as appropriately and realistically negative. They grumble. They mumble. They complain. They romanticize their former lives. In this case, they say, “If only we had died by the hand of the LORD in the land of Egypt, when we sat by the fleshpots and ate our fill of bread; for you have brought us out into this wilderness to kill this whole assembly with hunger.“ And, I’ll admit, I feel for Moses and Aaron. That ISN’T FAIR. It isn’t even TRUE. But, I also feel for the people, because when humans are frightened for their lives, they really can’t be held accountable for being “unfair” much less have reasonable perspective.

In these Exodus stories, every single time, God intervenes and provides. EVERY SINGLE TIME. Sometimes Moses and Aaron get annoyed, sometimes God gets annoyed, sometimes as a reader it gets annoying that they don’t learn how to trust faster, but God provides EVERY SINGLE TIME.

And I have some feelings about that, because in our world today there is both an abundance of food and an abundance of hunger. Based on both the stories of our faith and the miraculous food producing capacity of the earth, I’m pretty sure that the story is STILL that God provides. But… human beings get in the way. We hoard (the US government is one of the worst), we promote “competition” for who gets to eat, we blame the hungry for being hungry, and we permit wealth to rise to the top no matter the cost to the bottom.

God provides.

Humans intercept.

The challenge is not scarcity – there is enough. There is MORE than enough. The problem is distribution . That is, the problem is acting out the belief that all people are worthy of surviving and thriving, as beloveds of God.

Around here, we try to do our part to change that story. We promote the humanity and belovedness of all people. We have a free breakfast, and we give people extra food to help them make it through the week. We advocate for policies to alleviate hunger everywhere in the world. We donate to SICM and help with summer lunches. We educate ourselves about food distribution, and work with “Bread for the World.” Our tithes and offerings promote justice and compassion programs around the world, and our extra gifts to UMCOR just add on to it.

But, it is a big problem and there is lot of work to be done to BOTH feed all of God’s people AND change policies so we don’t allow anyone to be hungry.

Some of the reason I said all that is because it is true. Another reason is because I’m about to take this story metaphorically, and I could not do so in good faith until I also took the literal meaning of hungry people seriously as well. Especially now when A LOT more people are hungry world wide then were before the pandemic.

When I first considered this passage, my attention was drawn to that complaining and yearning for Egypt. It seemed worth talking about our yearning for what used to be, and how the yearning can erase the realities of the past – things like slavery for example. Much of what I hear, and a good portion of what I experience these days is a yearning for pre-pandemic times. Recently, after I’d shared a bit about how odd it was to give birth during a pandemic and how unexpected parenting a baby during a pandemic has been, a perspective person said, “Well, and you got pregnant before the pandemic, you didn’t sign up for any of this.”

I sighed with relief, like you do when someone really understands. Also, I think that applies to all of us a little bit. The things we were thinking about, planning, and even worrying about 2 years ago all changed on us in early 2020. And we didn’t sign up for this! The stressors and conflicts we live now we wouldn’t have been able to dream 2 years ago. And we didn’t sign up for this.

2 years ago wasn’t great. It really wasn’t. There were serious injustices happening, and the things we were worried about were real. Comparatively though, I see why we want to go back. I can even see why the people grumbling in the desert would have wanted to go back. With death looming, anything else looks better. But Egypt wasn’t their future, it was their past. And we aren’t going back to pre-pandemic times either.

The wandering in the desert, as the story says, was important for forming the people, forming their faith, teaching them their dependence on God. It got them ready for the Promised Land, but it was so hard and so terrifying, there were a lot of times they thought going back was worth it. Without knowing what the Promised Land would be like, or when they would get there, the only things they knew were the terrifying lack of resources of the desert and the utter oppression of slavery.

For most of us, our pre-pandemic times weren’t THAT bad, but I hear people saying now, “Having had a break from it all, I don’t want to live like that anymore.” We’re different. We’ve been formed by this time in the desert. We’re still being formed by this time in the desert. I’m not sure when the Promised Land is coming.

As much as the desire to go back to Egypt caught my initial attention, I couldn’t help but notice that it is only the beginning of this story. This isn’t the story of landing in the Promised Land. This is a story of having God provide. This is a story of there being BREAD on the ground in the desert that would sustain the people AND quails flying overhead for protein, and both of them being gifts of life from the God of life. (In the desert, where other people didn’t interfere with God’s gifts.)

This is the story where God says, “’At twilight you shall eat meat, and in the morning you shall have your fill of bread; then you shall know that I am the LORD your God.’” And then when it happened, and the bread showed up, the people said, “What is it??????”

And this is where I think God is leading me today.

We’re in the desert, dear ones. Whatever our roles and circumstances were in Egypt, it is far behind. Whatever our roles and circumstances will be in the Promised Land, we aren’t there yet. We are DEEP in the desert, learning our dependence on God. And that means that God is giving us gifts that we desperately need to survive.

And most likely we’re responding along the lines of “Huh?” or “What is THAT?” Or “I’m not sure I want that.” Maybe more than anything we’re thinking, “I’d rather have bread from Pereccas, or Gershons, or Friehofers.” These gift that God is giving, we might not even recognize them. We might not want them. We might be a little horrified.

Today’s story ends with Moses telling the confused and hungry people, “It is the bread that YHWH has given to you to eat.”

What is the bread that God is giving to you to eat right now? How are you feeling about it?

Holy One, help us see what you are giving us, and help us receive nourishment from what you offer. We are tired, weary, weak, and frightened people. Your nourishment is what we need to go on, and we know that this desert wandering is not your final plan for us. Amen

August 1, 2021

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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July 25, 2021
by Sara Baron

“A God Who Cares (about people)” based on Psalm 14 and 2 Samuel 11:1-15

Trigger Warning: The scripture names sexual assault, and thus this sermon discusses it.

When the Jesus Seminar is assessing the likelihood that Jesus said or did certain things, one of the things they check is “is it complementary?” If it is NOT complementary, they think it is more likely to be true. If it is ESPECIALLY complementary, it is a little bit suspect. Their idea is that the followers of Jesus telling stories about him would be more likely to adapt stories in ways that make him look BETTER, not worse. So when he doesn’t look his best, it is probably because there is some truth underneath it.

1 and 2 Chronicles are pretty rough on King David. 1 and 2 Samuel are not, they are decidedly pro-David. Today’s story comes from 2 Samuel. That means that it is as cleaned up as it can be, and it is still horrible. One of many things I like about the Bible, though, is that the characters who do God’s work aren’t all presented as perfect. That said, I find David particularly problematic. Probably because he had so much power, and is still thought of so highly despite having one of the worst track records in the Bible.

I think this story would have been ignored, or passed over, if it wasn’t for the fact that Bethseba was the mother of Solomon, who would become the king after David. This story, then, is likely true.

Kings in those days were supposed to lead their troops into battle, and King David was a very successful warrior, he had spent many years leading troops in battle. The story starts by saying, “In the spring of the year, the time when kings go out to battle, David sent Joab with his officers and all Israel with him; they ravaged the Ammonites, and besieged Rabbah. But David remained at Jerusalem.” (1 Samuel 11:1, NRSV) It is almost suggesting that if David had been where he was supposed to be, there wouldn’t have been this problem. And to an extent that is right. If David were taking seriously the needs of his people, instead of relaxing in the grandeur of the palace, things might have been very different. But David was at home, and because the palace was so much taller than the homes of the rest of the people, he was able to invade the privacy of a woman who was quite simply engaging in the prescribed RELIGIOUS RITUAL of purification.

She was not displaying herself for him. She wasn’t even taking a relaxing bath. She was fulling religious requirements so that she could rejoin society.

When David asked about her, he was told who she was – including her father’s name and her husband’s. He knew she was married. She knew she didn’t have a choice. She couldn’t say no. Perhaps she tried and it didn’t matter. Perhaps she was afraid he’d kill her husband. Perhaps she didn’t fight because she knew it didn’t matter – it didn’t. The king wanted her, and he got what he wanted. Her wants didn’t matter, her NEEDS didn’t matter.

It is disgusting, despicable, horrible, horrifying, immoral, and all too common.

So is the cover up – the murder that King David ordered when Uriah had too much integrity to enjoy comfort while his fellow soldiers were in the field. (The story definitely contrasts the moral behavior of the two.)

The next scene in this story, the one we didn’t read, is when the prophet Nathan comes to King David and accuses him. Nathan does so via a story, so the King can see his actions from an outsider perspective.

That’s the role of the prophet. Speaking truth to power, even when people in power don’t want to hear it, and try not to hear it.

In much of the Ancient Near East it was assumed that Gods were like Kings – they liked getting gifts (offerings), they liked being praised (worship), they did a lot of quid pro quo (so people praised gods and then asked god for things), they cared about their own power and influence, they could be punitive or generous as they wished. One of the unique parts of the Ancient Jewish faith was the understanding that YHWH God cared about the moral actions of people, and the care of the vulnerable. This was a really big religious transformation.

And we see it in our story today as well as in the Psalm. With YHWH God, even the Kings are called on their behavior. And not just on their behavior with other kings – on their behavior with those who served them – EVEN foreigners (Hittites were native Canaanites, the people who lived in the land before the Jews). Many commentators assume Uriah had converted, or perhaps his ancestors had but he was still considered ethnically a Hittite. YHWH God also cared about the treatment of women – and it doesn’t seem to me that most powerful men of the era did.

The Psalm makes similar points. It conflates believing in God with treating people justly. It names evil as “eating up my people” and it seems pretty clear that the ones being eaten up are the vulnerable members of society. It names that God is found with the ones who do right by others. I think it comes to its thesis in verse 6: “You would confound the plans of the poor, but the LORD is their refuge.” (Psalm 14:6) Finally, it begs for God’s presence, so things will be better for those who are struggling.

Today it is assumed that religion and good behavior go together, and it startled me to learn that connecting the two was once a religious revolution, one that came with Moses. Sometimes I fear that religion and good behavior are TOO strongly connected, because truth be told studies say that religious people do not necessarily behave better than others. For example, religious people abuse partners and children at the same rates as non-religious people, and as we know there is a lot in religions that is used to justify homophobia, sexism, and racism.

I worry we aren’t worthy of the narrative that combines morality with religion.

At the same time, I’m really grateful that we HAVE a narrative that says that God cares about EVERYONE, and God lifts up the lowly. I’m grateful for it, because without it it feels like all would be lost. Then we would just have a system where the powerful are powerful, and that’s just how it is, and everyone should deal and work the system to the best of their ability. But when we follow a God who cares about how we treat each other, and how we treat people who are least able to benefit us later, then we at least have a narrative that counteracts the world’s and can help us all make a difference.

I need that story, even when we fail to live up to it.

I need to have a place to aim for, and a vision to live into. I need to have reasons to reject the current system and work for a better one. I need to believe that God cares about how we treat each other and works with us to care for all and to build a better world, so that I can know I’m a part of a group of people who are working WITH God on that, and that between God and each other we can do things that matter! This is part of the value of faith community for me too – to be present with each other, to encourage each other, to learn from each other, to model good living with each other, and to dream God’s dreams together.

It isn’t fun to read the story of David and Bathsheba, but it is good to read the story and know that it wasn’t just allowed, or ignored, or brushed aside. The story still gets told, and David is still the villain, and God still expects better of all of us – especially of those of us in power.

Thanks be to God for a vision of goodness, wholeness, justice, righteousness, and the kindom where all people are cared for. Amen

July 25, 2021

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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June 20, 2021
by Sara Baron

“God’s Peace – In the Midst of the Storm” based on Psalm 107:1-3, 23-32 and Mark 4:35-41

Two years ago at the Upper New York Annual Conference, Bishop Sandra Steiner Ball guest preached for the ordination and commissioning service. She preached on this text, and what she said was memorable enough that I can no longer hear this passage without her interpretation of it.

You may remember that two years ago the United Methodist world was in turmoil over the passage of “The Traditional Plan” at the 2019 Special Session of General Conference. That is, our denomination has been explicitly homophobic since 1972. Thanks to the decades of work by organizers, activists, and people of conscience there was sufficient pressure to create change. A special session of our denomination’s global legislative was called to respond to the church’s continued exclusion of God’s LGBTQIA+ people. There were several proposals on the table that brought positive change, and one that multiplied the harm already being done.

I still remember standing in shock after the final vote was taken, and watching my phone explode with the global news outlet alerts that – as the NYTimes put it “United Methodists Tighten Ban on Same-Sex Marriage and Gay Clergy.” The homophobia of this denomination had already been an abomination, yet people stayed knowing that the best way to bring change was from the inside. It was long, hard work, but we had felt confidence that God’s Spirit of Love would win in the long run. The decision to pass the Traditional Plan changed all that, and made it clear that over the long run people of conscience CANNOT stay in a homophobic denomination.

That was February. We were still reeling, grieving, and furious when Annual Conference came. Thanks be to God, we’d also organized, and Upper New York will be sending a very different delegation to the next General Conference (whenever the pandemic allows that to happen). Nevertheless, the conviction remained for progressives and even many moderates: one way or another, we will NOT STAY in a homophobic denomination. One way or another, we will be part of a church that welcomes all of God’s people, and soon.

It was into that reality that Bishop Steiner Ball preached. And she did so as a guest preacher in an Annual Conference whose Bishop had been a leader in writing and passing The Traditional plan. She took this passage and asked us to stay in the boat with Jesus. She acknowledged the storm raging around us, she named the reasons we would have to simply bail on the entire endeavor, she made space for hurt, anger, and fear. At the same time, she claimed that Jesus was in the boat with us, in the midst of the storm, and powerful enough to respond to the storm. She believed that Jesus could bring resolution, IF we just stayed in the boat. She offered that while the storm was raging so strongly it could be tempting to just jump into the sea, that the sea itself was not without its own issues. She urged us to stay long enough for Jesus to act, to bring resolution, to find a way forward for the people called Methodists.12

Here we are, two years later, still in that storm, and still with Jesus. The biggest change is that with the global pandemic, we are dealing with multiple storms at once. The storm that is the pandemic keeps United Methodists from gathering to split into different denominations that will be able to live their own faith with integrity. The storm that is the church’s homophobia prevents the denomination from being able to speak with moral authority, even of issues of death and dying brought on by the pandemic.

So here we are, in a boat, in the midst of raging storms. But, Bishop Steiner Ball says that Jesus is in the boat with us. Further, she reminds us that Jesus is able to calm the storms.

I am aware that the global pandemic storms, and the global church storms are themselves far from the only storms attacking our boats.

In truth, I suspect that for many of us the storms raging most strongly are inside us. Narratives and traumas from our childhoods continue to attack within. Existential anxiety has its way with us, often in ways we don’t even see. Assumptions about others, fear of the the unknown, and a tendency to see enemies were there are only people who are different also keep us on the defensive. The whole world turning upside down on us, not yet being righted, and likely to find a balance somewhere other than where it used to be obviously doesn’t help either. People are comforted by the familiar, which means that the past 15 months have been particularly discomforting at exactly the time we’ve most needed comfort.

Which is all to say that I think there are storms raging within us, probably all of us to a greater or lesser extent.

To support this theory, mental health professionals have never been so busy. Now, I’d say that in an ideal world, we’d all get regular mental health care as a means of simply being healthy. But most of the time, most people don’t seek mental health care until they’re well into a crisis/storm and can’t find their way out alone. So very busy mental health care professionals is a signal that many people are really struggling.

There isn’t anything wrong with struggling. It is a human reality. The “Disciple Bible Study” curriculums call such things “the human condition.” There isn’t actually anything wrong with being in a storm. It is also a human condition, and quite often it is well out of our control.

That said, being in the midst of a storm, particularly one like our scriptures talk about today are NOT comfortable. These are the sorts of storms that make it seem more likely that death is on the horizon than life.

And Jesus sleeps through it.

Either he was beyond exhaustion, or he was living non-anxious presence or both. Impressive, Jesus.

The story says Jesus awoke, rebuked the storm, and rebuked the disciples. I feel like it forgets to tell us that he then curled back up and went back to sleep. The storm was silenced. The disciples were awed.

I wonder if any of the storms that rage within us are ones that God would be happy to silence and bring to peace, if we were willing to let God do it. I suspect so. Some storms we are aren’t ready to let go of. Some storms just aren’t done yet. But some of them are only causing us harm, and are ready to be silenced.

Can you tell? Can you feel any of them that have run their course and would be response to “peace, be still!”? Can you even imagine what life would be like without that storm?

To go back to the storm we started with, I learned about the church’s homophobia when I was 13, and started working against it then. I have worked for and dreamed of being a part of a big-C Church that welcomes, affirms, and loves all of God’s people. You have too. This church has been explicitly committed to changing the UMC’s life-denying policies for 25 years now, and was already committed to it before then too!

Yet, it boggles my mind to try to imagine life without this fight – or at least changing this fight from one fighting explicit policy to fighting implicit bias. My identity will need a reboot.

And I think that’s often true of our internal storms too. We’re used to them. They’re familiar. They’re a part of who we are, and we aren’t entirely sure who we’d be without them.

But, friends, that’s exactly what God is there for. God doesn’t want to leave us in the pain of the past, or even the anxiety of the present. God is a source of healing, and energy of revival, a vision for wholeness, a hope for the future. Some of the things we’re afraid to give up, God is ready to take away.

God’s peace is stronger than the storms. God’s peace can hold its own EVEN in the midst of the BIGGEST storms. It has a different kind of strength. It has a deeper kind of being.

So I invite you, to hear the words of Jesus resound in your soul. “Peace, be still.” And I invite you to listen to see what storms God has silenced. Because God is up to good in you, in us, in the world, and when we make space for it, God can transform even the most hurting parts of us. Thanks be to God!

Amen

1Please note that these are my memories of a sermon I heard 2 years ago. As memories are faulty, and tend to have holes filled in with one’s own assumptions, this is likely a high bred of what she said and what I wanted to hear and remember.

2 I take no authority to tell anyone they need to stay in the UMC boat. There are good reasons to leave, all the more for people who are LGBTQIA+. I’m sharing that it was meaningful to me, knowing that I’m not the center.