Untitled

February 18, 2024
by Sara Baron

“Wailing as a Means to Hope” based on Amos 5:10-15 and Jeremiah 31:15-17

I’ve committed to a theme of hope in the midst of despair this Lent, because it is a topic I sense we all desperately need. You can be forgiven for thinking that thus far in worship readings we’ve done the despair part better than the hope part. Our “We Cry Justice” reading came from the section entitled “Struggle and Lament” and an essay entitled, “You Must Let Us Wail” and it was fabulously matched with Amos bemoaning the poor being trampled and Jeremiah offering us the famous words, “Rachel is weeping for her children.”

What excellent summaries of exactly the states of the world that result in a sense of being hopeless and overwhelmed. Dismay, lament, injustice, wailing, and despair.

Amos and Jeremiah are prophets, and that means they’re doing something different with the despair than we might expect. Truthfully, they’re USING it. They’re using it to motivate people, to create change. Amos looks around, sees the messes, points them out, and then calls people to live differently. We hear it within our passage today:

Seek good and not evil,
   that you may live;
and so the Lord, the God of hosts, will be with you,
   just as you have said.
Hate evil and love good,
   and establish justice in the gate;
it may be that the Lord, the God of hosts,
   will be gracious to the remnant of Joseph.

Those two verses show up in the midst of a looooooooong lament, but they’re also THE POINT. “Do life differently, don’t keep up this system of things being unjust.” And, indeed, Amos is lamenting the unjust ways society is siphoning wealth from the poor to the rich. Many modern prophet smake similar points in similar ways. But perhaps we’re not hearing the point within the lament – the POINT is to create change.

Jeremiah is doing a similar thing but on a larger scale. Jeremiah is the prophet of the exile: he saw where things would land if nothing changed, he saw destruction happening, he saw the depth of despair, and then afterwards he points out that not all hope is lost. His is a tough book, but the hope in it is real. We may also be trained to hear more easily, “Rachel is weeping for her children” than the lines that follow it, “They shall come back, there is hope for your future.” Jeremiah isn’t speaking an easy or light hope, he is speaking hope into the darkest of times – and that hope was just as real as his concerns about the exile had been.

In Jeremiah’s writing, despair is named, and met with hope, despite it all.

Interestingly, Stephen Pavey seems to be doing a similar thing. He is speaking clearly about the injustices of our day, but he isn’t doing it to bring hopelessness. He says, “Callie and Martin, like Amos, are speaking for God using the poetry and prophecy of lament. They are calling for justice to be worked out and lived out in order to build a different world, a beloved community.”1

There is a funny truth here: prophets don’t lament things being the way they are to induce hopelessness and lead people to shut down because they’re overwhelmed. Prophets name injustice because they believe JUSTICE is possible. Prophets name systemic greed because they believe an equitable distribution of resources is possible. Prophets name their concern about “how things are going” because they have hope it can get turned around.

Why isn’t this more obvious? Why does this seem worth mentioning, even?

I think dear ones, because we now live lives saturated in “news” that can sound a little bit like prophecy, but isn’t. Headlines lament poisoned water, but “the news” is an industry committed to turning a profit from exposing bad news. There may be plenty of people in the industry who do so hoping it will motivate change, but that isn’t the industry’s first concern. And, we’d probably be OK if there were just headlines about poisoned water. We can work on that! But there are also headlines about… wars, possible genocides, famines, coups, floods, fires, earthquakes, ELECTIONS, hospital mergers, lack of nursing home staffing, COVID learning declines, long COVID, increasing poverty rates, lack of housing for migrants, use of solitary confinement despite it being banned…

What else have you read THIS WEEK?

The news can sound like a prophet, but it isn’t one.

Because a prophet shares concerns about injustice to motivate changes towards God’s visions of justice. NOT to make money.

Now, I’m really not trying to pick on the news industry (it is having a hard enough time), nor discourage you from seeking to be informed (which sometimes can feel like a form of power in an otherwise powerless existence). Rather, I’m wanting to remind us all that a constant intake of bad news isn’t something we’re OBLIGATED to engage in, and knowing doesn’t ACTUALLY create change. Especially if we’re already overwhelmed, especially if we’re worried about our own lives of that of one of our loved ones. The world is vast and complicated and none of us are ever going to know everything, and it is definitely OK to fast from the news when it leads you to hopelessness. (Lenten Spiritual practice I’d recommend, even.)

Because the news isn’t doing the work of the prophets. It isn’t rooted in hope.

The prophets do that work and God still calls them to do it. Interestingly, the prophets sometimes get overwhelmed by despair too, but somehow they find their way through Somehow the urging of God to call for something BETTER than what is, motivates them to move beyond what’s wrong and into what could be. When we seek out information, maybe it matters a little bit why the story is being told – and why it is being listened to. None of us can respond to the hundreds of concerns we can read about every day, so it is worth paying attention to if in-taking them is live-giving or life-draining. I do not believe God needs us to know about one more justice issue we can’t tackle if knowing it drains us from hope.

There is, however, something fundamentally GOOD about injustice being named – by prophets and even by the news. The piece of hope is that people will respond “this isn’t as it should be.” Now, again, if that’s just a way to make some money, meh. But STILL, just naming that things being broken isn’t as God wants them to be MATTERS.

The act of lament is the act of seeing what is broken and wishing for it to be healed.

Sometimes, dear ones, when we feel hopeless, I think we’re really engaging in the sacred act of lament. And we need not berate ourselves for engaging in sacred actions, even if they’re hard.

What we may need to guard against though, is being so overwhelmed that we move into helplessness. And that, beloveds of God, I sometimes fear is one of the impacts of the 24 hour news cycle compounded by social media. They move us into learned helplessness. Because we hear about wars fought far away, and children being made into orphans, and we can’t actually DO anything about it – and we hear about … and we can’t do anything about it, and we hear about… and we can’t do anything about it, and we start to learn that we can’t do ANYTHING.

Which is simply not true.

We can’t create peace in the Middle East, but we can reach out to our neighbors in the Capital Region who are Muslim and Jewish and remind them with our words and actions they are seen and loved. That matters in the face of the hatred being slung around, and it matters in simply planting the seeds of peace and love in the world. We can’t eliminate hunger within the world or even our community, but we’ve learned we can serve one hot meal with a healthy dose of respect and that it can matter a whole lot. We can’t eliminate single use plastics, but we’ve learned to grocery shop with reusable bags, and carry reusable water bottles and those actions add up.

There is plenty we can do, actually, there is so much we can do we struggle to decide which ways to share our love in the world, right? GOOD!!

Dear ones, a yearning for the world to be different, a lament at how things are, a longing for more justice, even fear that things might continue without change – these are beautiful expressions of HOPE. Because something in you believes this brokenness isn’t enough, and shouldn’t be enough. It meant to motivate change.

Not despair, not being overwhelmed, not learned helplessness. Change.

Hate evil and love good,
and establish justice in the gate.

It is possible. With God all things are possible. Love good dear ones, it isn’t time to give up yet. Amen

1 Stephen Pavey“12: You Must Let Us Wail” in We Cry Justice, ed. Liz Theoharis (Minneapolis: Broadleaf Books, 2021) p. 57 used with permission.

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

February 18, 2024

Uncategorized

“Why do we (the church) exist?” based on Deuteronomy…

January 31, 2021
by Sara Baron

a
Sermon

by
Rev. Sara E. Baron

First
United Methodist Church of Schenectady

January
31, 2021

For much of the past year, I’ve
been in crisis mode. Crisis mode requires full attention to be on
the present, as the demands of the present are too large to allow
time to reflect on the past or plan for the future. Of course,the
physical realities of distance also make planning for the future
difficult.

While
the pandemic is still raging, and there are a sufficient number of
other crises that need attention, my capacity to stay in crisis mode
is declining. It is, after all, a really demanding state and cannot
be held onto indefinitely.

I
don’t mean I’m taking unnecessary risks with COVID safety – I still
believe that the Wesleyan rule “First, do no harm” is our
guidance in this era, and everything I do to keep myself safe also
creates more safety for our communities.

What
I do mean is that I’m ready to accept some of the gifts of this era:
of a pause on reality as we knew it, and a major transition point
from what was to what will be. In particular, I think it is a good
time for the church to consider its most basic nature.

Why
do we exist?

Should
we continue to do so?

I
hope you’ll grant me a little bit of patience now that you know where
I’m headed, because the scriptures today are incredibly useful to
answering those questions, but to hear them well requires putting
them in context.

The
gospel lesson centers on the question of authority, specifically why
Jesus acted like he had any! Wise scholars point out “Authority is
the ability, actual or assumed, to control the behavior of others.”¹
Jesus, by birth, wasn’t supposed to have authority, yet he presents
himself as having it, and using it.

Until
this point in the Gospel, Jesus has been out in the wilderness, and
on the lakeshore. His entrance into the synagogue on the Sabbath was
an entrance into the space where the Scribes had authority, and his
words and actions SHAKE THINGS UP. This is the start of Jesus
messing with the status quo, and challenging what is assumed to be
true.²

I believe that is much of the
role of Christianity today, but I’ll get back to that.

This question of authority is
also central to the Hebrew Bible reading today. It comes in the
midst of a passage about the appropriate ways the roles of king,
judge, and priest should be fulfilled. Our passage is about the way
the role of prophet should be fulfilled. It is interesting because
the author of Deuteronomy is pretty clearly uncomfortable with the
role of prophet, and yet doesn’t think he can get away with
pretending prophets away. It is likely that Deuteronomy reflects the
perspective of the priestly voice, and the priests and the prophets
had an uneasy relationship.

The priests, like the kings,
inherited their power and role, which functioned to distance them
from everyone else. They got their authority at birth. Prophets, on
the other hand, emerged out of no where and were seen to have the
authority of speaking for God (at least by their followers.) They
often served to call others in authority to account, particularly for
the care of the vulnerable, and to warn that an unjust society would
not be sustainable.

The passage wants to limit
prophets. They have to be insiders, which is HILARIOUS, because I
just dare anyone to attempt to impose such a limit on the Divine.
They’re threatened a bit too, in hopes of reigning them in.

I think the role of the prophet
is interesting for THIS church, because historically the role of this
church in the Church-At-Large and in Society has been the role of
prophet. This is a church where justice-seekers gather, trying to
build the kindom of God, and willing to name things AS THEY ARE in
order to do so. Or, to be a little less diplomatic about it, we’re
really good at being a thorn in the side when one is needed. We
don’t go away, we don’t stop agitating, we aren’t willing to throw
anyone under the bus, and we are OK with people being annoyed with
us. We believe that calling for justice is the work of God, and
we’re going to do it.

In
contrast, the role of priest is largely one of ritual, and is a role
that is dependent on the good-graces of others. A priest is limited
in function because a priest has no means of survival other than the
good will of the people or more often of those in power.

To
be simplistic about it, the priestly role is about creating the
religious myths that uphold the status quo. The prophetic role is
about calling out the injustices of the status quo and motivating
change to a better system.

I
see those two roles intertwined in the Bible, struggling against each
other, and I see them in religious history as well. So it is no
shock that some of each is in every religious community, but more so
than most, this church is defined by its role as prophet.

It
may make sense then, that I also see Jesus as functioning in the
prophetic role. I am, after all, the pastor of a prophetic church.
In this Gospel lesson, Jesus is using his authority. So, he is using
“the ability, actual or assumed, to control the behavior of
others.”³
This seems to lead to the question: what was Jesus changing the
behaviors from and what was Jesus changing the behaviors to? Scholar
Ched Myers says, “Mark’s Gospel was originally written to help
imperial subjects learn the hard truth about their words and
themselves. …. His is a story by, about, and for those committed
to God’s work of justice, compassion, and liberation for the world.”⁴

That
is, Jesus was about opening the eyes of the people to see how they
were being oppressed, and to work together to break the chains of
oppression, so that they could build a society and a world without
oppression.

We
are quite clearly not Jesus’s audience, nor Mark’s. While our
community has a wide range of socio-economic statuses, we are a part
of The United States which is far more similar to Rome in the time of
Jesus than it is to Nazareth. So what does the authority of Jesus
call us to today?

I
believe Jesus calls us out of systems of oppression, and their myths.
Those myths include: some people matter more than others, some
people deserve more than others, there isn’t enough to go around –
so every person or group should fight for their own good, life is
about getting “ahead,” the status quo is mostly good, “be nice”
and don’t upset people, some people are just going to have to be left
behind and nothing can be done about it. There are a lot of myths
under this that support it, ones that maintain sexism, racism,
heteronormativity, the exclusion of people with disabilities, and
other forms of HIERARCHY of humans.

These
myths can be hard to let go of. They’re pervasive, they’re
insidious, and they’re even found in most faith communities, because
faith communities are comprised of people who also exist in society.

Jesus
calls us to justice, compassion, and liberation for the world. Jesus
calls us to kindom building, to being the beloved community, to
sanctification. (Sanctification is the process of letting go of
everything that isn’t love so that love can motivate all of our words
and actions.) God’s love extends to each and every living person,
and each and every living being. The change God seeks is from the
status quo to a world of equity, equality, compassion, and love.
THIS is the role of Christianity in the world.

The
work of the church is to value what God values, to model a community
that lives by those values, to support each other in the
transformation towards sanctification, and to believe that the work
of the kindom is the work of our lives. This is why we do things
together – so we can learn from each other, so we can love on each
other, so we can learn compassion from the inside and then share it
in the world. As we let go of the myths of systems of oppression,
we’re freed to see more and more clearly what justice looks like and
to live it more deeply.

THIS
is why we are people who take on the prophetic role. We have been
blessed to be able to see what oppression looks like AND to see what
life can be with God’s equality and equity at the center.

Why
do we exist? To live the values of the kindom, to show them to each
other and the world, to be hope for what can come. Should we
continue to do so? Yes, I rather think we should.

May
God help us along our way! Amen

1
Bruce J. Malina and Richard L. Rohrbaugh Social Science
Commentary on the Synoptic Gospels
(Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 2003) “Textual Notes: Mark
1:231-34” p. 150.

2 Ched
Myers, Binding the Strong Man
(Orbis Books: Maryknoll, NY, 1988, 2008), 141-143.

3
Malina and Rohrbaugh p. 150.

4 Myers,
11.

Sermons

“Love-vines” based on Isaiah 5:1-7

August 14, 2016February 15, 2020
by Sara Baron

I’m told it takes years to build a vineyard, and it takes pretty choice land as well. Vineyards need sandy or loose soil, they need lots of sun by day and dew at night. Israel exists in a desert climate so building a vineyard there means that access to enough water would be imperative too. The work of building a vineyard is physically demanding, requiring people to work together. In Israel, big boulders need to be moved (they’re a regular feature of the land), walls and towers have to be built to to protect the space from predators and thieves, and a ditch had to be dug around the wall. The land needed to be hoed by hand – plowing wouldn’t do, and that was hard work too! Wine presses had to be made as well, and in Biblical times they were made by hewing out those large boulders!¹ (Imagine!) And then, grapevines don’t produce fruit until their 3^rd season.

Vineyards are hard work, and big investments. Both now, and in Biblical times, not just anyone can afford to support land that wasn’t producing for 3 years, not to mention paying people to do the heavy lifting and hard labor in the meantime! The act of domesticating the land in order to produce domesticated grapes is intense.

From the earliest examples of literature, vineyards and gardens have been used to talk about fertility, love, and sex.² The metaphors are pretty easy to follow, and I’m guessing you don’t need explanations. Furthermore, grapes are a common symbol of fertility – likely the threefold combination of the clusters of grapes themselves giving expression to the idea of MANY, the impact of drinking wine, and the human eye’s enjoyment of curvy things all had impact in that! The Bible regularly uses vineyards as metaphors of sexuality as well. (The Bible also regularly acknowledges the horror of planting a vineyard and not being around to enjoy the fruits of your labor!)

It is interesting, though, isn’t it? Vineyards and gardens are intentional growing places, domesticated to allow for optimal growing conditions and care. That they become common symbols and allegories for human fertility is a bit ironic, as most of the mysteries of human fertility were unknown to the ancients and many are still unknown to us. The choice of the symbolism itself suggests humans wanting to have more control over sexuality and fertility than they do!!

Let’s look at a few of the places that the Bible intentionally connects the ideas of fertility/sexuality and vineyards. One comes from Deuteronomy 20:5-7:

Then the officials shall address the troops, saying, “Has anyone built a new house but not dedicated it? He should go back to his house, or he might die in the battle and another dedicate it Has anyone planted a vineyard but not yet enjoyed its fruit? He should go back to his house, or he might die in the battle and another be first to enjoy its fruit. Has anyone become engaged to a woman but not yet married her? He should go back to his house, or he might die in the battle and another marry her.”

While these are three separate ideas, they are also three interconnected ones, and I believe the order is intentional. The metaphors are most striking in Song of Songs:

My mother’s sons were angry with me; they made me keeper of the vineyards, but my own vineyard I have not kept! (1:6)

My beloved is to me a cluster of henna blossoms in the vineyards of En-gedi. (1:14)

Catch us the foxes, the little foxes, that ruin the vineyards— for our vineyards are in blossom.” (2:15)

Let us go out early to the vineyards, and see whether the vines have budded, whether the grape blossoms have opened and the pomegranates are in bloom. There I will give you my love. (7:12)

Solomon had a vineyard at Baal-hamon; he entrusted the vineyard to keepers; each one was to bring for its fruit a thousand pieces of silver. My vineyard, my very own, is for myself; you, O Solomon, may have the thousand, and the keepers of the fruit two hundred! (8:11-12)

There is a lot of vineyard imagery in this relatively short book, isn’t there? Now, I should have been clearer about the metaphor, the vineyard/garden is usually used as a reference for FEMALE fertility.

Which is why the opening line of today’s passage is so very interesting. It sounds like a female voice to begin with, her beloved’s vineyard might first be assumed to be HER. “Let me sing for my beloved my love-song concerning his vineyard: My beloved had a vineyard on a very fertile hill.” Love and vineyards, not only do they classically work well together, they create a well-known direction to start off this passage. It is a love song with a vineyard motif. That’s a genre anyone can follow. It would be reasonable for the hearers to assume that we are going to get into some more Song of Songs like stuff!

The text goes on to explain that all the appropriate care has been given to the vineyard: all the hard work has been done. Boulders were cleared, vines were planted, a watch-tower was built, the wine press was dug out of stone itself, and it is implied that even the wall had been built. But the vineyard didn’t produce what was expected. With all that work, the vineyard owner would be expected some great wine – and, um, love.

Instead, only very seedy, un-juicy wild grapes emerged, perhaps the same kind that were growing the vineyard before the work was begun. That’s wrong! It isn’t supposed to go that way. All the hard work is supposed to produce something! In fact, it is supposed to produce something wonderful: domesticated grapes! Which are good for food directly, for food as raisins, for a sweetener AND for wine. After all, that’s why people go through all the work of the vineyard building: it is supposed to be worth it.

In this metaphor, supposedly about love, the vineyard owner decides to give up, and allow the wild to reclaim the vineyard. Connecting it back to the opening verses, it seems possible the “vineyard owner” is divorcing his wive because of her lack of fertility with him. The act of domestication had failed in this vineyard, and the vineyard owner isn’t intending to put more effort into it. No more work! The wall and the protective hedge will be destroyed. No more weeding! No more pruning! No more hoeing! And no more rain….

Which is the point when we are supposed to figure out this isn’t just a weird story about the wrong crop growing up. Normal vineyard owners don’t control the rain. This is when it becomes clear that this metaphor is about God and the people. This is when the text gets super confusing about who the one who calls God her beloved is too, but I don’t have a single answer for that. (Feel free to come up with your own answer.)

The final line of our text is the prophet Isaiah interpreting the song/story that has just been told. It feels a bit like a parable of Jesus that comes along with interpretation. The prophet explains, “For the vineyard of the LORD of hosts is the house of Israel, and the people of Judah are his pleasant planting; he expected justice, but saw bloodshed; righteousness, but heard a cry!” (5:7)

Now, the explanation doesn’t go quite as far as the metaphor does! The story ends with a suggestion of destruction, leaving us waiting for a declaration about exile! Yet, the interpretation just explains how the Israelites were supposed to be different, and aren’t. They were meant to be God’s dream for goodness in the world, but they’re just like the rest of the wild grapes. They have been domesticated: tenderly cared for and loved, but that hasn’t impacted what has grown from them. Instead of behaving with God’s justice and extending God’s love by caring for the poor, the widows, the orphans, the foreigners, and the vulnerable, the people of God have refused to participate in justice. They’ve rejected mercy for each other, and can’t call themselves righteous. The text talks of cries and bloodshed, suggesting that the ways people were being mistreated weren’t trivial: they were matters of life and death. The lack of justice meant the most vulnerable people were dying.

The people of God were acting like the wild grapes, the ones that hadn’t known tender love and care. They were receiving what God gave to them, but not letting it impact how they treated others.

This wasn’t God’s dream for the people. God planted justice and righteousness, but it didn’t grow. Rev. Paul Simpson Duke, currently copastor of First Baptist Church of Ann Arbor and Campus Minister for the American Baptist Campus Foundation at the University of Michigan, along with his wife, Stacey wrote in a commentary, “Any good news? Well, it is a love song. It ends badly. Has God stopped planting vineyards or restoring ruined ones? The bad news is that we can still be useless and a lethal danger to the world and to ourselves. The good news is that Someone still sings, plows, plants, guards, and looks for good fruit. In this is enough hope to set us humming bits of the song at least, and living toward its true ending, Love’s own harvest, sweet justice, festive righteousness, a cup of joy in the lifted hands of all.”³

It turns out that the use of the vineyard imagery wasn’t accidental, nor was the opening line claiming to be a love song! The love song part seems a little bit Country-Western, in talking about how the beloved did the person wrong, but it is still a love song. In truth, historically, there was an exile, but there was also a return. The vineyards around Jerusalem were destroyed, and later rebuilt. God’s work in the world certainly continues, even if it is a source of IMMENSE frustration to God that we KEEP ON missing the memos on justice, righteousness, and treating each other like we matter! “Someone still sings, plows, plants, guards, and looks for good fruit.“ God may well be tempted to give up on us every once in a while, but as we are told again and again, “God’s steadfast love endures forever.”

God is One with a long-view – longer even than than the person who thinks to start planting a vineyard. God still thinks we are fertile soil, capable of producing justice, righteousness, and a world of peace and love. May we take the ministrations of God – the planting and pruning, the protections and the watering, the hewing, and the watching over – and allow them to transform us into ever more fertile soil that may produce exactly what God wants: justice, righteousness, and love. Amen

1To my horror, the things I thought I knew about vineyards were affirmed here: Fred Wight, “Manner and Customs of Bible Lands” chapter 20http://www.baptistbiblebelievers.com/LinkClick.aspx?fileticket=TGctIUL-BsY%3D&tabid=232&mid=762. 1953, Accessed 8/11/16

2 C S Lewis, Allegory of Love Oxford (University Press 1936).

3Paul Simpson Duke, “Homeletical Perspective on Isaiah 5:1-7” found on page 345 of “Feasting on the Word Year C Volume 3” edited by Barbara Brown Taylor and David Bartlett (Westminster John Knox Press: Louisville Kentucky, 2010).

–

Rev. Sara E. Baron

First United Methodist Church of Schenectady

603 State St. Schenectady, NY 12305

http://fumcschenectady.org/

https://www.facebook.com/FUMCSchenectady

August 14, 2016

Sermons

“Teaching Ephraim to Walk” based on Hosea 11:1-11

July 31, 2016February 15, 2020
by Sara Baron

The imagery of God as a loving parent in this text is particularly beautiful. However, one commentator suggested that it creates a problem for preachers: if we present God as a “father” we’re continuing the damage done by lifting the masculine above the feminine; if we present God as the generic “parent” it feels cold and distant; and if we present God as a nurturing mother we conflate nurturing with motherhood and do damage to nurturing men, women who are not mothers, and people whose mothers were not nurturing.

I’m going to have to go with the idea that these are not all EQUAL problems. While I do think it is possible to reclaim the neutral “parent” as close and connected, I think that the world is more in need of a counter image to God-as-Father. That being said, the concerns about God-as-Nurturing-Mother are worth acknowledging. So, please, know this: not all us have (or have been) the healthy sort of mothers that we would want; there are incredibly nurturing men, and we are grateful for the ways that their forms of nurture benefit the world; AND there are a lot of ways that women contribute to the well-being of the world beyond motherhood. Finally, feminine does not equal nurturing. Duh. There. That being dealt with, let’s look at this amazing text of Hosea!

Did you hear the verbs attributed to God? I loved, I called, I taught, I took them up in my arms, I healed, I led, I lifted, I bent down, I fed. These are tender, sweet verbs. They describe a loving, nurturing parent who wants the very best for their child. There are a few places where the description tends to sound more feminine and maternal. The images, “I taught Ephraim to walk”, “I took them up in my arms”, “I was to them like those who lift infants to their cheeks”, “I bent down tot hem and fed them” all sound like a mother caring for a baby or a toddler. The love between the mother and the child is tangible – even as the text acknowledges that the beloved child is currently acting like rebellious teenager!

Did you catch that part? “The more I called them, the more they went from me”, “They did not know that I healed them”, “they have refused to return to me”, “they are bent on turning away from me!” Just in case you are confused about language, the “child” or “son” in this passage is variously called “Ephraim” and “Israel” which mean exactly the same thing in this case. Hosea was a northern prophet who was speaking to the northern kingdom of Israel in during the last kingship of Israel before it lost in battle to Assyria and was exiled. The terms Ephraim and Israel were used interchangeably sort of like we say “America” and “The US”. The text is believed to have been edited, rather strongly, by the southern kingdom after their exile AND return. The southern kingdom seems to have heard truth in the words and wanted to claim them for themselves, particularly that the God’s love wouldn’t run out on them.

There are, however, some theological challenges to this passage. Most interpreters hear punishment in the text, and then hear it resolved through God’s loving nature. I have yet to be convinced by anyone or anything that God actually punishes people, so I find that problematic. I do believe that most of the people who lived in Biblical times and who wrote and edited the words of the Bible believed that God punished, so that certainly explains why it might show up like that.

However, I don’t THINK this text actually says that God punishes! I think people are so used to text that do, that they project it onto this one. Listen carefully: “They shall return to the land of Egypt, and Assyria shall be their king, because they have refused to return to me.” (Hosea 11:5 NRSV) It doesn’t say – or even imply – that this is a punishment. It could just as easily be a consequence. Because of their actions, particularly the political choices of their leaders to make alliances with Egypt against Assyria, things would go wrong. Their schemes were going to lead to destruction.

Now, I really like my interpretation of that bit of the text – consequence instead of punishment – but it creates a problem soon thereafter. In verses 8-9, the words attributed to God are, “How can I give you up, Ephraim? How can I hand you over, O Israel? How can I make you like Admah? How can I treat you like Zeboiim? My heart recoils within me; my compassion grows warm and tender. I will not execute my fierce anger; I will not again destroy Ephraim; for I am God and no mortal, the Holy One in your midst, and I will not come in wrath.” Now, if we’d stuck with the idea that God was going to punish the people, then we’d have the easy way out here: God is a God of mercy and while God could justly punish the people, God chooses to follow God’s nature and be merciful instead. (Mercy IS “compassion or forgiveness shown toward someone whom it is within one’s power to punish or harm.”) That’d be grand – other than assuming that when bad things happen to us it is because God is punishing us and making God a really abusive parent.

However, if we go with MY theory that God is simply pointing out the consequences of their actions, then this part of the text suggests that God is deciding whether or not to interfere with the people’s free will. Furthermore, after some serious soliloquy, God decides TO interfere and change the course of human history. Sometimes fixing things makes them worse – and that definitely applies to trying to draw good theology out of the Bible!

There are good things here though, and I still think they are worth fighting for. Those last few verses make the fantastic claim that God is not like mortals, and what makes God holy is God’s capacity for mercy. That’s worth hearing, particularly if we are trying to be holy like God!

Having written myself into a corner, as I often do, now is the time you get to watch me wiggle back out of it! Now, as I often do, I’m going to suggest taking the text VERY seriously. What if the prophet is proclaiming things that are true: that God is like a tender mother who adores her children, that God’s people are like rebellious teenagers, that the actions of God’s people are going to cause them a whole lot of trouble, that like any good parent God is going to struggle to decide how much God should help out the teenager for the trouble they got themselves into, and that in the end God really really want to help the beloved child – sort of like an overly compassionate mother? That doesn’t HAVE to imply an invasion of free will…. it could just be a decision of how much help to OFFER!

Then we come to a new question! When we as a people get ourselves stuck in really bad situations, how is it that we think God helps? Does God change reality and the physical properties of nature around us? Does God interfere with our free will? Does God change the hearts of other people around us – and thereby interfere with THEIR free will?

Or is it more subtle? Does God simply stay with us in the bad times and make sure we aren’t alone? Does God help us by guiding us to creative solutions? Does God help us by giving us the courage to admit our mistakes and ask those around us for mercy and help? Does God help us by encouraging those willing to listen to offer us love and compassion?

The more I think about it, the more I think the beginning of this passage fits with its middle and its end. Israel is presented as variously a baby, a toddler, and a teenager. Those are all people that are allowed to make mistakes, to not know, to need some guidance. They are even people – at least the toddler and the teenager- who are EXPECTED to rebel. Often as grown-ups we’ve bought into the story that we aren’t supposed to make mistakes anymore, and that we are now supposed to know things. It makes it much harder for us when we are stuck in difficult situations to get out – because sometimes it feels like admitting that we are imperfect is the same as admitting that we are failures. Unlike the grace given by healthy parents to children, we sometimes forget to give ourselves grace when we make a mistake! Israel is presented like a child making a mistake, and God is presented as righteously angry – and gracious nonetheless.

I have told you this story before, but it is the best one I know, so I’m going to tell you again.

Julian of Norwich was a 14^th century mystic in England who wrote the potent little book, “Revelations of a Divine Love” based on a mystical experience she had while desperately ill, and decades of prayerful reflection on it afterward. She tells one of my favorite stories, intending to clarify the relationship between people and God. This is my synopsis of it:

A servant dearly loves their ruler. The ruler asks the servant to go run an errand, and the servant is THRILLED to get do so something to help the ruler. The servant, however, so dearly loves the ruler than even while hurrying away to do the ruler’s errand, the servant keeps looking at the ruler, loathe to let the ruler out of their sight. In this awkward form of movement, the servants doesn’t notice a hole, and falls right into it, all the way down to the bottom.

The hole is deep, and there is no ladder. The servant is trying to scratch their way back up, to continue the errand, all while berating themselves for their stupidity, “I should have watched where I was going, I’m of no use to the ruler now! How could I have done this! The ruler will be so disappointed! I’ve messed everything up again! Isn’t that just like me!”

The servant, trying again and again to climb out and failing, berating themselves silently, fails to look up and notice that the ruler is at the top of the hole, smiling kindly, and offering their hand to the servant.

God is often the one standing at the top of the hole in which we are berating ourselves, offering us a way out. Sometimes our own guilt, or the ways we berate ourselves, keep us from hearing God’s possibilities for our lives. In my own life, I have found that I really believe that God is capable of forgiving everything I do – but I’m not! Many times, instead of asking for God’s forgiveness (which I think comes automatically), I’ve had to ask God to help me forgive myself, so that I can move into the creative solutions that God offers.

This may be all the more important in community. The harms that we have done to one another in the past are imperative to recognize, but guilt rarely helps move anyone toward healing! Learning to acknowledge our individual and communal failings without dwelling in guilt and shame is another way of learning to walk – in grace.

Some of the work of learning to walk in grace is the work of self-forgiveness, and it is pretty important to make space for the goodness that God offers each of us. Truly, God is patient in teaching the people to walk – in grace. May we be patient with ourselves and each other in this process. Amen

–

Rev. Sara E. Baron

First United Methodist Church of Schenectady

603 State St. Schenectady, NY 12305

http://fumcschenectady.org/

https://www.facebook.com/FUMCSchenectady

July 31, 2016