Grounded Hope

January 5, 2025March 17, 2026
by Sara Baron

“Grounded Hope” based on Luke 1:39-55

Somehow I messed up the order of the Advent Candles this year. They’re supposed to be Hope, Peace, Joy, then Love, but we did Peace, Love, Joy, and now hope. Truthfully I copied from a prior year, which likely copied from some lovely liturgy of yet another year, and didn’t notice until Louis asked me why on early we were doing Love on week 2. By that point it was too late to change so we left it.

So perhaps I’m just justifying things here, but I also have been thinking that it feels right this year to end on hope. I’m not disparaging love! It is, after all, “the greatest of these things.” It is just that this year, hope seems like the hardest one to come by.

To speak plainly, there are already a whole lot of problems in our country and our world, and we’re facing a future with a government who will do intentional harm to the vulnerable. Usually when we think about hope, we think about hope for building the kindom, for making things a little bit better, piece by piece. But right now, we’re facing everything getting worse, and it isn’t even entirely clear what we hope for.

I’m a big fan of Dr. Emily Nagoski, a writer and pod-caster who thinks deeply and writes clearly. Dr. Nagoskisends out a regular email newsletter that I get, and this July she sent out one on hope. Emily struggles with depression, and she shared that while she’s delighted when other people can resonate with Emily Dickinson’s poem “hope is the thing with feathers” where nothing can hurt hope, she can’t actually access that hope.

Here is an excerpt from that email:

Moral philosopher and author of “How We Hope” Adrienne Martin developed an “incorporation model” that formulates hope as “a desire for an outcome and the belief that the outcome is possible but not certain” and you use your assessment of its possibility as justification for feelings, thoughts, and plans.

Got that? Hope is justifying your feelings, thoughts, and plans based on your assessment that a desired outcome is possible.”1

This definition of hope, where the desired outcome is “possible but not certain” may be why hope see so hard right now. I’d like to hope for an end to hopelessness, but that is a whole lot less likely then “possible but not certain.” I’d like to hope for an end to hunger, but that, too, is a whole lot less likely than possible but not certain.

For Dr. Nagoski, living with chronic depression, assessing what was possible with an optimistic viewpoint became so hard that from her perspective hope died. But, she says, that’s not the whole story:

Hope is a sustaining energy, it keeps us working through trials when we’re being challenged, but it is contingent on that assessment of the probability of that desirable outcome.

But there is a noncontingent sustaining energy, which cannot be interfered with by any assessment, no matter how dire, of the probability of a desired outcome.

That noncontingent sustaining energy is an unimaginable hope.

What’s it called, when you have no reason to believe a wanted future may come to pass and yet you continue to work toward it just as if you did believe you could make a difference? What’s the name for that emotion, when you walk toward the world you want, knowing that each next step might be off a cliff?

Adrienne Martin calls it faith.2

Now, to be clear, Dr. Nagoski is an atheist, so her faith may look different than ours, but I found this reflection so startlingly helpful. Because what we are doing now, when we hope for good care for those with disabilities, when we hope for compassionate responses to immigration, when we hope for changes of heart around medical options for trans kids in red states – that’s the stuff of “when you have no reason to believe a wanted future may come to pass and yet you continue to work toward it just as if you did believe you could make a difference” That’s the stuff of, “when you walk toward the world you want, knowing that each next step might be off a cliff?”

Now, as people of faith, maybe we still get to call this hope, but more like “faith-hope” or “God-hope” or “we’d have no hope in this without trusting God” or just “hope grounded in love” or “grounded hope”? Or some other nuance. But it isn’t practical, pragmatic, having assessed the likelihood and deemed it possible sort of hoping we’re doing now, when we try to build the kindom of God on earth in this day and age. What we’re doing is continuing to love because the world needs love, is practicing peace because only peace begets peace, is seeking joy because joy is resistance, and continuing to work towards building the kindom of God because God has done crazier things than bring justice out of THIS HOT MESS. That is, we hope.

And to a significant degree, what I hear in Luke is pretty similar. Mary and Elizabeth, the too young and the too old, pregnant and shocked and processing, and speaking hope in the faithful God in the midst of the world that was a hot mess.

The Roman Empire at that time had highly concentrated wealth and power, most people felt vulnerable in their positions, so tried to press harder on those below them to stabilized themselves, the masses of people were struggling in life threatening poverty, and the government was trying to control the religious narrative to make itself look good. I know it is all hard to imagine, but do your best. 😉

This young, vulnerable, faithful Mary speaks her faith, her grounded hope, to Elizabeth. She speaks of God’s mercy – God’s compassion shown to those God could instead choose to punish. She speaks of God’s strength – God’s capacity to make things happen.

And then she talks about what God does with God’s mercy and compassion. Which is, inverses the fortunes of the world. For many people at that time, especially those who were not a part of the Jewish faith (but probably many who were too), it was assumed that those who had power and money had it because they were favored by the gods and “good.” And those who didn’t’ have things were being punished. Right? That way it looks like the world is fair, if everyone gets what they deserve. (You realize people think this now too, right? Sigh.)

The book of Job, I would say, is one of the ways the Bible fights back against that idea, because even in the Bible there is this tendency to want to justify things by saying all is as God would have it be, so don’t mess with the status quo. But, luckily, there are also A LOT of narratives that say God isn’t’ happy until justice comes, and that’s the tradition Mary is drawing on here.

Mary speaks of God lifting up the lowly, bringing down the powerful, filling the hungry, sending the rich away empty, scattering the proud, and fulfilling God’s own promises. To have that happen would overthrow the empire, and install in it’s place God’s own kindom on earth. She is talking about leveling, about making it so everyone can eat, and no one lords over anyone. She is talking about building the kindom on earth.

It makes sense, of course, that these words would be in Mary’s mouth to make sense of Jesus. The early Christian community saw all of this happen in Jesus’s life, and they used Mary’s words as a narrative device to tell people what to pay attention to in his story. (Also, I contend, it makes sense to think of Mary as one who had such faith and was able to teach it to Jesus.)

I think that from the perspective of Mary and Elizabeth, the Roman Empire was immutable. It couldn’t be changed, couldn’t be toppled, couldn’t’ be bested. This was probably even MORE true by the time the gospels were written and the destruction of Jerusalem occurred with mass causalities. Moving from that system to justice as God wills it would have looked….

Well, it wasn’t “possible but not certain.”

It was much more “when you have no reason to believe a wanted future may come to pass and yet you continue to work toward it just as if you did believe you could make a difference?” In fact, I would go so far as to say that one of the primary points of Jesus’s teaching was that we have to work towards the future we want, the kindom of God on earth, as if it is possible because unless we work together on it – IT WILL NOT BE POSSIBLE. Jesus brought the people together and showed them that together they had enough where as apart they did not. Jesus taught them they had power, not the kind of violent power over of the Empire, but the amazing power of connection and love that can change things to make life BETTER.

Beloveds of God, the likelihoods are not in our favor right now. Very little that improves the lives of the vulnerable is going to happen on the federal level in the short run.

Oh well.

God is still God, God is a God of mercy who brings down the mighty and lifts up the lowly and we’re working with God on that kindom building project. Our hope is grounded, faithful, and impractical. We do what needs doing even if it isn’t likely to bring the outcomes we want. We do it anyway, because we are the people who follow Mary’s son. Amen

1 “An Alternative to Hope Or, The Secret Medicine for When the Thing With Feathers Stop Singing” an email from Emily Nagoski on Jul 9, 2024.

2 ibid

Rev. Sara E. Baron
First United Methodist Church of Schenectady
603 State St. Schenectady, NY 12305
Pronouns: she/her/hers
http://fumcschenectady.org/
https://www.facebook.com/FUMCSchenectady

Sermons

Vulnerability

January 5, 2025March 17, 2026
by Sara Baron

“Vulnerability” – 2024 Christmas Dawn Meditation

A lot of theologians like to make a big fuss over Jesus being born a baby. Or, really, over God being born a baby. They talk about infinity becoming finite, about spirit taking on flesh and mortality, about the God of all becoming embodied – and as a tiny baby at that. My conceptions of who Jesus was don’t entirely jive with this, but…

It is, in fact, rather awe-inspiring to think of Jesus as a baby. In most of the gospel narratives he is a grown man with profound insight, incredible spirituality, and unusual wisdom. While he didn’t possess much power in the ways of the world – he was poor, homeless, and peace-able – he had a lot of the other kinds of power. He was well liked, even loved, by many. He had followers who trusted him, supporters who enabled him, and the kind of faith that can move mountains. His was the power of Love, but he had it in spades, and we are people who believe in the epic power of Love.

But as a baby, he was fully vulnerable. I have been reminded of this, this year, this second time I’ve picked up a newborn and been responsible for keeping him alive. Babies are 100% dependent on others. They can’t eat without help, they need others to change their diapers. They often need to be soothed to sleep, or reminded to wake up. And all that is when everything goes RIGHT.

The funny thing though, is that we’re more like babies than we’d like to admit. We, too, are 100% dependent on others. We can’t eat without the supply chain enabling food to get to our tables. We can’t excrete safely without the work others did on our septic lines. Many of us also need to be soothed to sleep and nearly all of us need alarms to remind us to wake up.

And that’s, too, when everything goes right. Because it turns out that being in these finite, mortal, human bodies is ripe with things going wrong. Injury and illnesses plague us. Abilities come and go, and dis-abilities ebb and flow in the opposite direction.

We are so profoundly vulnerable in these bodies of ours.

Many years ago, while serving as an intern hospital chaplain, I had the honor of getting to know a man who was being treated for very serious cancer. He was in isolation even within in the cancer unit because treatment required the complete dismantling of his immune system. (Sadly, this happens more frequently than we’d like to discuss.) His family was too far away to visit, and he was bored and scared. Also, being sick didn’t fit his identity. He was, as he said, “a bouncer in the seediest bar in the city.” He wasn’t supposed to get SICK.

Bodies. Are. So. Vulnerable.

And nothing we do, nothing we say, nothing we imagine can keep them safe negates their vulnerability.

We’re all dependent on each other, we’re all in bodies that can’t fully be trusted… we’re all a lot like that baby placed in the manger – and a whole lot MORE like that baby than I think we’d like to be.

And, in case you hadn’t heard it or forgot about it, the mangers at that time were hewn out of the bedrock. To place a baby in a manger was to put the baby BELOW floor level, where anyone could step on him or trip over him in addition to the animals feeding around him. It is a profound metaphor to think of that level of vulnerability for that new baby, one that makes me squirm a little.

Confession, when Isaiah was born I was utterly horrified at the idea of putting him down on his first night on earth, and simply refused to sleep because in my mind he HAD to be held. The nurse – wise woman that she was – responded to me that I HAD to sleep if I was going to recover from the c-section. My best friend, therefore, held Isaiah for his whole first night, so I would sleep without the horror of him being… gasp… in safe bassinet in a hospital. I may resonate a little too much with the concept of placing a baby in a manger! I think that’s a hard no.

I think we can take from this Christmas story, and from human life in general, that vulnerability is holy. We may not like it, we may ABSOLUTELY HATE IT, but it is holy. In our vulnerability we are bound to each other by our needs, in our vulnerability we become more open to the Divine, in our vulnerability we learn again and again that God is with us, in our vulnerability we see how little control we have… and hopefully make some peace with it.

The angels sang, the shepherd came, Mary pondered it all in her heart – a baby was born, as vulnerable as any of us, and it was good. So, too, are our fragile, vulnerable existences. It is HOLY to be vulnerable. 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

December 25, 2024

Sermons

Led Home

January 5, 2025March 17, 2026
by Sara Baron

“Led Home” based on Jeremiah 31:7-14

Jeremiah, the prophet of the exile, speaks to the exiles in the midst of their exile. You get it? EXILE, “the state of being barred from one’s native country, typically for political or punitive reasons.1” The state of exile is a state of displacement. Who you used to be has been ripped away, along with your connections to what roles you used to play, what people you used to be connected to, AND what places you used to occupy. In many ways, to be in exile is to have ones identity ripped away.

The Exile in the Bible, the time when the leaders of ancient Israel were force marched to Babylon tore away the identity of a nation. Those left behind were decimated by violence and continued to be defenseless against invaders. Those sent into exile were decimated by violence and displaced. They had known themselves to be God’s people, protected by the Divine and formed by their relationship to the God-Who-Is. To have lost their city, their status, the lives of their loved ones, their temple, and their treasures to Babylon SERIOUSLY threatened their identity as beloved by God.

In fact, I believe that the Hebrew Bible was written down in this period largely to make sense of the exile, and to figure out identity once again.

So the words of Jeremiah, the prophet of the exile, are particularly poignant as they come from the time of displacement and lack of identity, a time of pure shock and dismay. Jeremiah is known as a downer, because most of his prophecy was about warning what would happen if the exile came to be. But once it happens, he ends up telling the people that God won’t let it last forever.

Our Hebrew Bible reading today, from Jeremiah 31, is a prophecy of RETURN. A word from God that says that the people will return (they do) and that it will be glorious.

When we talk about Jesus today, at least for most Christians, the emphasis is on Jesus as Savior. For me, it is often a relief to notice what saving means in the Hebrew Bible. Which, in this case, is “return.” The people ask God to save them, God brings home a remnant of the people and thus keeps the people alive as a people – maintaining their identity and connection to their God.

Christianity today is focused on saving being about afterlife, but in most of the Bible it is more pragmatic than that. Jeremiah suggests that this is a story of salvation – that the people will come home.

The specifics, it is worth mentioning, are profoundly lovely. While Jeremiah as prophet of doom and reports of the destruction before the exile talked about the deaths of babies and pregnant women, Jeremiah singing the story of salvation says that God is going to bring the people home – and the list of who will make it home safely is remarkable:

people who are blind
people who have physical disabilities
people who are pregnant, including those in labor

And those beloveds of God will be gathered back home. They will be comforted after the years of grief. They will be safe, walking near water so they can drink as they wish, on a smooth straight path where they cannot get lost and will not be tripped.

Then, when they people come home, they will sing with joy! They will be fed with abundance. The crops will grow, the animals will thrive, life will be easy and good. The people will dance, and be happy. Their mourning will turn to joy. They will be comforted. Their sorrow will become gladness. There will be so much abundance that the priest’s small portion will be more than enough and the things of life will overflow and satisfy.

Its lovely.

But I think my favorite part is who is named as the ones God is bringing home. The focus isn’t on the descendants of the king, nor the priests and Levites, nor the warriors or scribes…. Even though those were most of the people who were taken into exile because Babylon thought they were useful (and that Jerusalem would founder without them). It is the most vulnerable people in this case also the ones who would have the hardest time with long-distance travel to return. It is the ones for whom returning home would be most miraculous.

God says God will make the way so smooth, so straight, so easy that they too can make it. This feels the the Biblical equivalent of those wonderful internet memes that remind us that EVERYONE can use a ramp, but not everyone can use stairs, so ramps should be the highest priority. God is building a RAMP home so that those least able to make it on their own will have an EASY journey. The return home is meant to be so easy that a woman in labor, a person who is blind, and a person who cannot walk on their own can all make it. God will lead them home, and it will be possible.

There is a way home, with God. The people will be saved, the return is possible and will happen, everyone will be able to make it if they wish to.

Thanks Jeremiah.

It seems to me that the powerful experience people had with Jesus and then the powerful experience people had with the Holy Spirit after meeting the followers of Jesus must have been REALLY STRONG for those people to start claiming that God’s salvation was KNOWN in him. Because, let’s be frank, the man was killed by the Empire on cross as a condemned man, and his most faithful male followers ran away in fear afterward.

It didn’t, at least at first, look like the salvation Jeremiah was talking about. It didn’t look like return from exile, it didn’t look like the prior story of freedom from bondage in Egypt through the Passover.

Nor did it fit the salvation of the expected Messaiah. It didn’t look like King Solomon’s rule over many neighbors. It didn’t look like political freedom, or overthrowing the Empire, or even a temple that was dedicated to truly honoring God again.

But those Early Christians claimed the idea that God saves us, and claimed the idea that God was sending a Messiah to restore the Kingdom of Ancient Israel – a Messiah to save them and their IDENTITY. And the Early Christians said, YES, God did, and it was Jesus!

And friends, let’s be clear, Jesus DID NOT FIT THE BILL. When our Jewish friends point out that Jesus didn’t fit the identity of the expected Messiah, they are ENTIRELY CORRECT.

But, also, I think the early Christians were onto something. Jesus didn’t bring political power, a resurgence of the Ancient Israelite Empire, the power of violence to kill enemies, a restoration of the Kingship or Nation, or even help the priesthood cleanse itself of Roman influence. He didn’t do any of it.

But, he did empower those who had been disenfranchised. He did listen to widows. He did show people the miracles that happen when people combine their resources. He did preach about God with the people everywhere they go. He did teach about God’s incredible power of love. He lived a life of radical connection, radical love, radical trust in a God of goodness. And those who met him – and those who met those who met him – and those who met them – and so on – saw in him a different sort of salvation. Maybe one more like Jeremiah’s after all. They saw in him that their lives had value, even if the empire couldn’t get rich off them. They saw in him that they could love each other and it would matter, and that no power of violence could destroy the things that really matter. They saw in him that God is bigger than even death, and fear can start to take a backseat to love because love always wins and its far more worth basing a life on. They saw in him the power of peace, of connection, of relationship, of faith, of trust, and of hope.

And they called those things salvation.

And I think they were right. I think that’s why Jeremiah preached it too. Because before return comes, you have to want it, and you have to believe it is possible. Before freedom comes, you have to want it, and you have to believe it is possible. Before the kingdom comes you have to want it, and you have to believe it is possible. Because believing in it makes it possible.

May God lead us all home to the kindom! Amen

1Apple dictionary, accessed ½/2025.

Rev. Sara E. Baron
First United Methodist Church of Schenectady
603 State St. Schenectady, NY 12305
Pronouns: she/her/hers
http://fumcschenectady.org/
https://www.facebook.com/FUMCSchenectady

January 5, 2025

Sermons

Joy Like a Fountain

December 15, 2024March 17, 2026
by Sara Baron

“Joy Like a Fountain” based on Isaiah 12:2-6 and Philippians 4:4-7

There is a bit of a challenge to this week. Today, on this 3rd Sunday of Advent, we have lit the candle of Joy! We have texts calling us to joy! We’re meant to engage in and savor the joy of God.

But, also, we have the Long Night service this week, the time when I will tell attendees that they don’t have to be joyful if they’re not joyful – that God meets them where they are – that one can honor Christmas with tears as well as anything else.

For some reason I don’t feel like it would be particularly authentic to preach to you today about joy, and then talk about grief and sadness on Wednesday as if they’re entirely separate things.

I’ve been thinking about the spaces that joy and grief intermingle. I know that this perhaps a bit personal, but adoption is one of those places. Our family is profoundly joyful that we’re complete, that we have a delightful baby to adore, and that our adoption is finalized. But adoption never exists in joy alone, because it is profoundly sad that birth parents cannot parent their children, and it is heartbreaking that children need to be separated from their birth parents. It can be the right thing, the best thing, the thing that brings us the most joy – and still be filled with grief.

Truthfully, many deaths are like this too. We who are left behind are aghast at the loss of loved ones, but often also relieved at the end of suffering. Sometimes, even, the one who dies has expressed being ready and waiting to go, to be joy-filled to be done, and we have to hold our grief with their joy.

A now-deceased church member, Miles Martin said all of this much better than I’ve been able to in his poem “Bittersweet”

“Bitter-sweet” by Miles J Martin

In the strange dichotomy of living

The purest joys are bitter-sweet,

And happiness often lingers

Where tears and laughter meet.

Of all accumulated treasures

That crown the passing years,

Most precious are the jewels

That crystallize from tears.

Above the bitterness of parting

And the sadness of farewell,

An all-pervasive sweetness

Casts its blessed, healing spell.

Though familiar ties be severed

And old friends seldom meet,

Fondest memories intermingle

The bitter with the sweet.

Throughout this mortal journey

Where time is short and fleet,

We find that all of living

Is a blend of bitter-sweet.

The first time I took a Nonviolent Communication Course (which is sometimes called Compassionate Communication), we were asked how we were feeling after a lunch break. Luckily there were cards with emotions on them for us to look at and consider, since we were like most people and not particularly fluent with emotions. I don’t remember how I was feeling, but I remember one of the teacher saying that she felt conflicted, because she was both excited about teaching us and worried that not everyone had made it back from lunch yet. I remember it because it was an ah-ha moment for me, that more than one emotion at the same time is real, valid, and even normal.

This week, we’re talking about joy and sadness, and we’re acknowledging that they often intermingle, and “all of living is a blend of bitter-sweet.” Now that we’ve acknowledged that, I feel a lot more comfortable putting the majority of our attention this morning on joy.

Our scriptures emphasize gratitude as a natural response to God’s goodness. God who cares for us, God who gives us peace, God who is our strength, God who is trustworthy, God who is with us – God being God is reason enough for joy. There is truth there.

God who created brings joy. God whose creation includes waterfalls and starlit nights, sunrises and autumn colors, raspberries and coffee, the oceans and the plains, hummingbirds and blue whales is definitely a God of joy. And it turns out life itself is filled with joys, when we’re able to attend to them. To eat is a joy. To drink is a joy. To move is a joy. To talk is a joy. To hear is a joy. To watch is a joy. To make meaning is a joy. To play is a joy. To create is a joy. To offer care is a joy. To receive care is a joy. And even when we can’t have all of those things, most of us get many of them EVERY DAY!

When I think about sadness and grief, I’m often struck by how much grief relates to change. We grieve what we’ve lost and identified with – people and identities and hopes and dreams. It could be far too easy to conclude that change makes for grief, and it may even be partially true. But to return to the idea of bitter-sweet, change also looks like growth, and healing, like the fulfillment of dreams, and the letting go of identities that don’t fit anymore. Change itself is bittersweet, and I think it is important to notice how it feels and what delight there can be in it.

That amazing spiritual “I’ve Got Peace Like a River” seems to summarize both of our scriptures and all that I’ve said so far. It seems worth noting that African American spirituals didn’t come from times when all was well, they came from souls that knew that there was more than external realities. To be in the midst of oppression and sing “I’ve got peace like a river, I’ve got joy like a fountain, I’ve got love like an ocean in my soul” was to refuse the power of the oppressor to define reality. It was to make God’s peace, joy, and love the centerpiece of life. It was to claim goodness, even the midst of hardness.

I have said it before, but I think it bears repeating: we are formed by what we give our attention to. In the era of social media and 24 hour news cycles it is really easy to get pulled into despair and distress. But we’re called to peace, love, joy, and hope. Which requires that we give attention to goodness and God-ness too. We have to be more intentional that people who came before us, in making sure we bring our attention to the little miracles of life. Now, I’ll admit it, I’m in an easier position than many to do that. I get to be awed every day at things my kids are learning, and that is an unfair advantage compared to those who don’t get to do that in this era of their lives. But dear ones, I encourage you to savor the things you love – great flavors, great music, great decorations, great relationships, great fiction, great naps!

One of the best spiritual practices I know is the practice of daily examen. (Yes, I push this regularly, if you now all do this and haven’t’ told me yet, let me know and I’ll move on.) In daily examen you get centered with God, review your day, look for the best and worst parts, share those either in a journal or with others, and then offer thanks to God for the best and the worst and everything in between. When practiced daily (or even at any regular interval) it can help us see what we’re loving about life and what our constant struggles are, which can also guide us towards moving our lives towards greater joy.

More simply though, it gives us a chance to pay attention. To notice what days are bustling with little joys, or what days really weren’t that hard, and mostly it gives us a chance to listen WITH God and find some delights we missed the first time around but can delight in as we reflect on them. I’m personally shocked at how often the worst part of my day is related to the best part. As previously mentioned, “We find that all of living is a blend of bitter-sweet.”

Dear ones, seek joy, savor joy, attend to joy, allow for joy. And, remember, it is human to feel multiple emotions at once. You joy won’t cancel out your sadness or anger, but neither will it be canceled out. We’re people of faith – we have joy like a fountain! Thanks be to God! Amen

December 15, 2024

Rev. Sara E. Baron

First United Methodist Church of Schenectady

603 State St. Schenectady, NY 12305

Pronouns: she/her/hers

http://fumcschenectady.org/

https://www.facebook.com/FUMCSchenectady

Sermons

The Way Home

December 8, 2024March 17, 2026
by Sara Baron

“The Way Home” based on Malachi 3:1-4 and Luke 3:1-6 December 8, 2024

The story says that the descendants of Jacob, freed from slavery in Egypt, wandered in the wilderness for 40 years. They weren’t meant to be wilderness dwellers, they just took a really long time to be ready to come “home.” Home to the promised land. Home to being settled, and engaging in agriculture. Home to being ready to trust God and create a society based on treating one another with the love God wants people treated with.

The wilderness wasn’t the goal, but it was important. It was there that they learned to trust God. It was there that they figured out the basics of their story, and the basics of their structures, and the basics of their faith. The wilderness was imperative – even though it was the journey not the destination.

In our Disciple class this week we read a lot of texts placed in the wilderness, laying out the VERY specific details of sacrifices, which are mind-numbingly boring most of the time (to me). One of the specifics caught my attention though, the means by which the Holy Tent – the Tabernacle – itself was cleansed. The idea seemed to be that periodically, maybe once a year, the high priest would re-sanctify the whole space. He had to start by purifying himself, then symbolically purifying the people. This is actually where the scapegoat comes in – for the people he brought two goats. One was sacrificially killed and the other symbolically bore the people’s sins away from them and back into the wilderness. Then the ark of the covenant itself is cleansed/re-sanctified/prepared for its continued work.

The work of the Tabernacle (and later Temple) was the work of forgiveness, and it required that the place of forgiveness be cleansed periodically, so the sin didn’t… soak in?

The whole idea is so far from my worldview, I struggle to wrap my head around it, but it felt connected to the Malachi reading when one person is going to purify things. God’s messenger – seen at the time it was written as the return of Elijah – would purify the whole people. Like the high priest, but more so. The high priest was cleansed himself and cleansed the people and then purified the Tabernacle.

This messenger purifies it ALL. The messenger purifies the whole people, and in doing so restores relationship between the people and God.

It could make sense to say that the messenger is taking the people out of another wilderness and leading them back home too.

In Luke, John the Baptist quotes Isaiah 40. Isaiah 40, the start of “second Isaiah” is written to the exiles, promising them that the exile will have an end. The prophet speaks to people who have been force marched through the desert wilderness, and are yearning for home. He assures them that not only will they go home, but the horrible journey they remember won’t be the same on the way home – it will be flat, straight, safe. They will be with God and God will be with them, and they will be journeying home with ease.

Phew. OK, so far we’ve talked about the journey from Egypt to the Promised Land thorugh the wilderness- a long journey to a new home; we’ve talked about the wilderness of distance from God and the purification and forgiveness to bring people back home to God; we’ve talked about the journey through the wilderness to the exile and the road back home… enough Bible meta themes yet?

Well, no.

Because now we have to deal with John the Baptist quoting Isaiah, which means we don’t just need to know what Isaiah was saying but why John decided to quote it!

We know that John was a wilderness preacher, which is pretty much the opposite of the important people we hear about first. Ceasar, the governor, the rulers, the high priests…. and well, John who was “proclaiming a baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins” and quoting Isaiah from the wilderness around the Jordan. There is a significant contrast there, a notable difference in power. Or maybe, a notable difference in what KIND of power they were wielding. The empires officials (and I include the high priests as such) wielded the threat of violence, hierarchical, and official power.

John the Baptist wielded the power of hope.

In particular, the hope that even from THERE, the people could get home again. Where was there? I think by the time of John and Jesus, the people of ancient Israel felt like exiles at home. The power structures abused them, the religious authorities abandoned them, the financial structures strangled them, the nation their ancestors had yearned to come home to was bleeding under the oppression of the Empire.

It can be a hard thing, it turns out, to be home and still be yearning for home.

It can be hard when home isn’t safe.

It can be hard when home has been appropriated.

It can be hard when home doesn’t value its own people.

It can be hard when home seems to violate the most basic principles of Godliness and goodness.

(Just saying.)

To these people, living under the oppressive, violent power of the Empire, this camel-hair-wearing, wilderness-living, baptizing prophet says, “God is going to make the home easy. The mountains will be made low. The valleys will be lifted up,” and WOW, but doesn’t that sound like good news to the poor and those made low and hard news for those who might be on the top? And then he goes on to quote that the ways will be made straight and smooth and the people can get home and the home is going to be LEVEL and FAIR, and SAFE and JUST and GOOD.

And GOD is going to do it.

And God’s people are going to help

There is a way home. God is working on it. We can help.

And that dear ones, I believe, is the good news of God for the people of God. Thanks be to God. Amen

Rev. Sara E. Baron
First United Methodist Church of Schenectady
603 State St. Schenectady, NY 12305
Pronouns: she/her/hers
http://fumcschenectady.org/
https://www.facebook.com/FUMCSchenectady

December 8, 2024

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December 1, 2024
by Sara Baron

“Be on Guard” based on Jeremiah 33:14-16 and Luke 21:25-36

As a general rule, I really hate Advent texts. I hate them because they’re apocalyptic and messy and scary and generally reflect a future I hope we don’t have.

When I reflected on this with Worship Committee last month, they looked at me knowingly and pointed out that perhaps that’s exactly why we need the Lectionary Advent texts right now. Because 1. we need some connection to our traditions and 2. it feels really real right now.

Which, since you just heard the utter wonder of the Luke 21 text, you can tell I was convinced by those ideas. However, I’m particularly lucky that the Sunday Night Bible Study also just finished reading the book of Daniel and I’m way more aware of the genre of apocalyptic literature in the Bible than I normally am.

I do not, for the record, recommend reading the book of Daniel outside of the context of a Bible Study or without some truly excellent commentaries. However, I had the benefit of reading it with excellent commentaries and insightful fellow readers.

The thing about Daniel, and the book of Revelation, and I think this passage in Luke is: they’re written as resistance literature. They can’t be direct and make the point, “The person who has all the power an is oppressing us with it is not doing God’s will,” because if they say that then anyone who has access to the document will be killed. #OpressiveRegimes So, they put things in different times. Daniel pretends to be from the past, Revelation pretends to be in the future. Then they speak about the abuses of power they see now, and do it in a way that it clear that God is still God and the horrors of this time will come to an end.

They are powerful tools of encouragement, of hope, and of resistance.

But, in order to obscure their points so people don’t die, they’re also a little bit hard to decipher.

I’m not really sure what Luke is trying to get to in today’s passage. (The Jesus seminar is pretty clear this is all Luke’s writing, not reflective directly of Jesus.) What we do know is that the early Christian communities experienced fairly extreme circumstances, and often needed encouragement and resistance literature. It seems that it could be common enough to feel like things were so bad that “people would faint from fear”. But Luke assures the people that things getting bad are just a sign they’re going to get better soon. Because the people needed to be encouraged.

So, beloveds, as people who also might need some encouragement, the part of the passage that encouraged me this week was one little line, “Be on guard so that your hearts are not weighed down with dissipation and drunkenness and the worries of this life.” Oh, I needed that reminder. Be on guard that your heart is not weighed down.

Sweet Jesus, thank you. (Or, rather, thanks Luke.)

Now, Jeremiah goes at this from a different perspective. Which is interesting because Jeremiah is known for being a significant downer as a prophet. But chapter 33 is one of Jeremiah’s “good cop” chapters and Jeremiah encourages the people that the end has not come and good times are going to come again.

Now, I have to admit something to you. I rebel against the word “righteousness.” I don’t think my objections are particularly fair. It is a good word. It means living well, living “rightly,” living in right relationship with God and neighbors. And yet, somehow, when I come across it, I connect it with purity culture and judgmental-ism and people judging whether or not one is righteous and it just ruins the whole thing for me. (I believe others struggle with Justice for similar reasons, and oddly enough I like that one.)

So, I thesaurus-ed “righteous” and the simplest substitute for it is “goodness” which I can handle. With that, we get a passage from Jeremiah that says:

The days are coming, God says, when I’m going to fulfill my promises.

In those days David’s line will continue,

and the leader in the line of David will bring goodness and fairness to everyone.

The people will be safe and well.

Things will be so good that other nations will call my people by the name,

“God is our goodness.”

I like it. Sounds to me like yet another description of that beloved community or kindom of God we’re co-creating with God. God reminds us, even in dark times, not to give up hope.

And Luke reminds us to be on guard so our hearts aren’t weighed down.

Which leads me to invite us to think about both what weighs down our hearts, and what lifts those weights.

I can share that my weights are lifted by:

remembering all the organizations and people working for goodness
jokes and memes that hit at the crux of things with humor
feeling heard
being able to truly hear another person’s heart
singing together
fiction and fictional portrayals that give me a break from the problems of this time
telling God exactly what I’m feeling and why
giving God time to respond (I may use this less than I wish)
helping others
baking
and as I was reminded in today’s Advent Devotional – a snack and a nap!

It’s my list, I don’t know if yours has baking on it or not 😉 But, if you are willing, would you work on making your list? What lifts the weights when your heart is heavy?

And, if you are willing, could you then put that list somewhere you can see it, as a reminder for when your heart needs you to guard it and lighten it’s load?

Someone wise reminded me this week that it is hard to be disconcerted by reality at the same time that others are, because instead of steadying each other, people are pulling each other further off kilter. I say we work on becoming a fire break in the anxiety storm, a source of calm in the midst of it all. We guard our hearts and each other’s, so we can be steady when others are off kilter. Are you with me?

I hope so. Thanks be to God for the opportunity to lift some weights from our hearts, so we have capacity to help others when their weights get too heavy. Amen

December 1, 2025

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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November 24, 2024
by Sara Baron

“Don’t Worry!?!?!?!?!?” based on Psalm 126 and Matthew 6:25-33

So. Here we are. Back in the “sowing of tears,” and “going out with weeping.”

Again.

And once again, perhaps this is not the moment that you are in the mood to hear, “Don’t worry.” Perhaps, like me, you are prepared with a list of perfectly reasonable things that one could be worried about, and all of them without over-responding to reality.

Right?

And yet, once again, I have to admit that Jesus was talking to people who also had pressing concerns, life and death concerns, including about where their next meals were coming from. It was to people whose lives were being shortened by poverty, who lacked access to basic resources that Jesus said, “don’t worry.”

Which I think means we aren’t able to ignore it.

I find, when I stop fighting with this passage and listen to it, that Jesus is making some pretty pragmatic points. He isn’t actually saying, “don’t worry, be happy.” He is saying, “Don’t worry because worrying doesn’t get you anywhere. You don’t solve your problems by worrying about them.”

Which is just true. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve worked myself up into a lather about particular concerns just to have those particular issues never actually emerge in my life, or in the world. I always seem to worry about the WRONG things.

In the end, this gospel passage comes to an interesting conclusion. Strive for God’s kin-dom, and trust God, and you will be OK.

Now, take a breath. I know, and you know, that things aren’t going to be OK for everyone. We aren’t being hopelessly naive here. The world is a hard place and lots of people struggle profoundly. Like in the time of Jesus, lack of access to resources results in people’s deaths, even when there are enough resources to go around.

So, what was Jesus getting at? The man was not hopelessly naive.

I hear two really important points in what in Gospel lesson. The first is a point mostly to those at the bottom of the social hierarchy. The people that society has deemed expendable. The ones whose lives are shortened by greed at the time. To those people, Jesus says, “God doesn’t see you as expendable. You matter.” To make this point Jesus reminds them that all the wealth and resources of the world can’t dress a person as beautifully as the flowers. And nature itself cares for the birds, and God loves you more than the flowers and the birds. Perhaps that sounds trivial, that people matter. But I think it isn’t. I think that’s everything. I think that’s in the core of the good news. God cares about EVERYONE, NO ONE is expendable, and whenever anyone is treated as expendable, that is against the will of God.

The other piece is equally central. “Strive first for the kindom of God and God’s goodness, and the rest will follow.” Here is the thing. It actually will. Because the more people are striving for the kindom, the more people are living out God’s goodness, the better things get. Even in the most impoverished places on earth, if people work together, they have a lot more than when they compete. And the more people buy into “everyone matters” the closer we get to sharing life-giving resources responsibility.

I’ve also noticed, in the past few weeks, that striving for the kindom of God and seeking God’s goodness is the one of the most inspiring things I can do. It is harder to worry about cabinet choices when one is face to face with a breakfast guest who is sharing about their life. It is hard to worry about what will come in a few months when sitting with someone at the end of their life. It is hard to maintain hopelessness when reflecting on lives well lived. It is in a whole lot of pretty small actions that hope gets rebuild. And, around here, we have plenty of small actions that need doing that end up building the kindom of God and seeking God’s goodness.

I remember learning eight years ago that I am lucky to have a pulpit, because working to find the good news keeps me focused on it. I’ve watched, even in the past few weeks, the ways that regular committee meetings can be sources of comfort and hope. Even just being in shared reality helps.

This time around, I don’t want to be as easily swayed. I don’t want to spend years being angry, or to be dismayed all the time. This time, we have a pretty good sense of what is coming. And I, for one, want to be grounded in God’s goodness and centered in community and ready to be able to stand in front of those who are vulnerable without wavering. To do that though, I can’t let myself drown in despair, let go of hope, or even burn with righteousness anger.

Luckily, we know about stuff that grounds us in God and community. Worship. Prayer. Mission. Ministry. Human Connection. Laugher. Joy. Play. (PLAY!) Humor. Music. Art. Bodily Movement. Nature. Sabbath.

And, a lot of that we’re pretty good at.

So, here is your permission: put on your oxygen masks. We are going to need to be able to take deep breathes to do this well. But with God, we can be love in even this world.

And, I’m not going to tell you not to worry. But, please remember: God loves everyone, and building the kindom helps build resilience to despair. Also, best of all God is still with us.

I think that’s plenty to be thankful for, how about you? Amen

Nov. 24, 2024

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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November 10, 2024
by Sara Baron

A Reminder of Who God Is and Who We Are Called to Be

God’s steadfast love endures forever

and God’s faithfulness for all Generations.

God is the God of creation,

of all people and all living things,

and even all non-living things.

God seeks the common good.

God is on the side of the oppressed.

God is the one who seeks just distribution of resources,

starting with sabbath,

and extending to all things.

God is a God of abundance who made this earth with plenty.

God wants us to share so all can thrive.

God is the wellspring of love.

God shelters us, even when no one else does.

God is the one seeking the kindom.

And we, dear ones, are God’s people.

Called to compassion.

Called to be shelter in the storm.

Called to bold action to protect God’s loved ones.

Called to be peace and work for peace.

Called to be in a community of grace – without boundaries.

Called to look for God’s hand moving us towards justice,

even when it is hard to see.

Called to live in the tragic gap and see how things are

and how things should be and not look away.

Called to build the kindom with God, even when it is hard.

Called to be, and to be love.

Called to trust in God’s steadfast love and faithfulness.

May we hear God’s call. 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

Nov. 10, 2024

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November 3, 2024
by Sara Baron

“The Saints Sheltering Us” based on Isaiah 25:6-9 and Revelation 21:16a

Our guts are clenched

We aren’t sure what comes next

Terrible options abound

It would be nice

to be on that mountain

or in the new Jerusalem

To be past the fears

to be assured of life

for things to be as God would wish

To be beyond sadness

to know no more grief

to be together in joy

Though the prayer echoes through the ages

thy kingdom come

on earth as it is in heaven

it isn’t

yet

Instead we gather

to remember the Saints

Bob who loved his wife too much to let her go

Harold who enjoyed absolutely everyone

Lois whose pure goodness flowed everywhere she went

Nancy who thirsted for knowledge and connection

Pat who loved kids to her core

Beryl whose devotion cared for many generations

June whose personality was its own source of gravity

We loved them

They formed us

They taught us

They loved us

These, the newest of our saints

now form the great cloud of witnesses

with those who where already there

So many we’ve loved and lost

and been formed by

So many saints

So much wisdom

resilience

humor

faith

care

love

joy

hope

Enough, it might seem

to make it through today

and tomorrow

This week

this month

this year

Enough to shelter this storm

Enough

There is love enough.

In them.

In us.

In God.

Thanks be.

Nov. 3, 2024

All Saints Sunday

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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October 27, 2024
by Sara Baron

“Love God” based on Exodus 20:1-17 and Luke 10:25-28

The Gospel retelling of the central laws of Judaism are used in Luke as the opening to the parable of the Good Samaritan. I appreciate this opportunity to hear it stand alone though, a reminder that the central ideas of Judaism and Christianity line up.

Jesus says the answer that is in the Torah still stands, and then offers commentary on it, making sure that his followers remember that the neighbor who is to be loved is a neighbor in the most expansive of definitions.

The key commandments “You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your strength, and with all your mind; and your neighbor as yourself.”’ I particularly love the way this is constructed as one commandment with two parts. There isn’t a separation between loving God and loving neighbors, they’re two sides of the same coin. We love God by loving our neighbors, when we love our neighbors, we are loving God. And yet, also there are ways that the two can be approached differently. Around here we LOVE taking care of each other and our neighbors in tangible ways, and showing God’s love by offering care and resources.

Sometimes, some of us, are less clear on what to do with that first half. “Love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your strength, and with all your mind,” What does that mean?

Perhaps sometimes we get confused by those who say that loving God is about living a particular type of pious life – one that doesn’t seem right to us. Or we get turned off by those who declare their particular prayer practices are THE WAY to connect with God, when clearly there are lots of paths. (For instance, those people who think getting up at 4AM to pray before starting the day. It is a valid choice, but not the ONLY valid choice.)

I’ve been enjoying reading about Celtic Christian Spirituality, and one of the big ideas in that world-view is that that the world is permeated with the Divine Spirit – that the world itself sparkles with wonder and awe and delight. That existence itself is an amazing miracle and everything we see – especially in nature – is glimmers with holiness.

Celtic Christianity also talks about the spiritual path as being one of remembering the sacredness of all creation, the value of all human life, the love of God that is everywhere in everything. It emphasizes that we are made good, that we know what we need to know already, we just need to remember.

Then, Celtic Christianity says, when we remember together, we can do things differently. We can build societies that reflect holiness and love and goodness and hope and mercy and grace. But first, we remember, and we remember by noticing the sacredness all around us and listening to it.

These days when I think about loving God, I think about it in those Celtic terms. I think about savoring goodness, noticing wonder, making space for awe. As you may have heard me say in other sermons, I’m all for other spiritual practices too! However, today, I want to focus on that attention to holy wonder.

It isn’t pious or self-righteous or prescriptive. It is just being, with gratitude. Love the Lord your God with all your heart, soul, mind, and strength – and notice the wonder all around. Oh, and share love with others, because everyone is a part of God and beloved by God and worthy of love. (But we are already practicing that part.)

The 10 commandments as found in Exodus offer a further explanation of ways to live so that people love God and treat neighbors with love too. The first ones focus on loving God, the latter ones focus on treating each other well, and to my delight the middle one is the appropriate transition between them as it is both. The transition is the Sabbath:

Remember the sabbath day, and keep it holy. For six days you shall labour and do all your work. But the seventh day is a sabbath to the Lord your God; you shall not do any work—you, your son or your daughter, your male or female slave, your livestock, or the alien resident in your towns. For in six days the Lord made heaven and earth, the sea, and all that is in them, but rested the seventh day; therefore the Lord blessed the sabbath day and consecrated it.

That Sabbath is everything! It is a time for noticing the wonder and awe, for loving God, for rest, and for SHARING rest with everyone else. John Dominic Crossan reminds me that in the Bible the first resource that is distributed is REST, and all the other distributions follow after rest. First, rest, for everyone. First, wonder for everyone. First, space for everyone to be human, that is to stop working and just be, that is to connect with each other, that is to connect with God, that is to connect and BE and not be distracted.

Loving God and each other. See, its all over that Bible of ours.

Our essay from We Cry Justice today reminds us that societal laws should be laws that protect everyone, especially the vulnerable. That just laws create justice. And, that the “laws” of the Bible set good precedent for this – I’d note, including that EVERYONE gets rest regardless of statues.

It also reminds us of the Social Principles in the United Methodist Church and our stance on Civil Disobedience, in this case the new principle sounds a lot like the old one:

We support those who, acting under the constraints of moral conscience or religious conviction and having exhausted all other legal avenues, feel compelled to disobey or protest unjust or immoral laws. We urge those who engage in civil disobedience to do so nonviolently and with respect for the dignity and worth of all concerned. We also appeal to all governmental bodies, especially the police and any other institutions charged with protecting public safety, to provide appropriate training and to act with restraint and in a manner that protects basic rights and prevents emotional or bodily harm to those engaged in civil disobedience.

That is, there is an affirmation that the rule of loving God and neighbor is the highest order of law, and we have a right to stand for it, although there may be consequences.

I think that for many people hearing the stories of others, and sitting in nature, and singing the songs of God, and regular experiences of Sabbath, and all those ways people can love God and nature, can FORM US into people truly able to follow the most basic commandment:

“You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your strength, and with all your mind; and your neighbor as yourself.”’

It is easy to understand, and worth pursuing, but it isn’t exactly easy to live, is it?

Well, the more we love God and the more we love God’s people and creation, the easier it gets. Thanks be to God for that! Amen

October 27, 2024

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