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December 17, 2023
by Sara Baron

“Yearning for Joy” based on Micah 6:6-8 and Luke 1:67-80

I was in a “non-violent communication” workshop one time, which is a place that teaches about human emotions and how to have them without judging yourself for them. So, we’re in this workshop and someone takes the MOST obvious of teaching moments, something that would almost make you groan except that in this case, I didn’t KNOW the thing she was teaching so I was grateful that she made it so obvious.

We’d just come back from lunch and we were asked how we were doing, with the request that we respond with how we were feeling. It was practice with using feeling words. The co-teacher responded, “I’m feeling torn. I’m excited to be teaching this group, and at the same time I’m concerned about the two students who aren’t back yet.” There I was, in my 30s, and I’d just learned that it was VALID to hold MORE THAN ONE EMOTION at the same time. Which was helpful, because I’d done that plenty, but somehow I hadn’t known it was OK.

(This is why I often share really simple stuff about emotions with the rest of you – it was late in life learning for me and its been really significant. I dearly hope most of you already knew this, but when I look around at our society, I’m not sure who would have taught you.)

So I learned that when I take my feelings seriously, both on their own, and as flags pointing me to things I care about and value, I am allowed to feel more than one emotion – even seemingly contradictory ones. This knowledge has been very helpful for me, particularly in moments in my life when my life and the world as a whole were doing really differently. Like when Trump was elected and there was fear of what his presidency would look like – and I was newly in love and wedding planning at the same time. Or when there was a global pandemic and the country was locked down and everything was hard and confusing and – oh – I finally got to become a parent.

Which is all a long introduction to say: this is Joy Sunday, and heavens that can be confusing in the midst of sadness, anger, fear, and exhaustion. There seem to be plenty of reasons to skip joy – grief and heartache, violence and injustice for example.

And yet, none of that negates joy. In fact, oddly enough, making space for any emotion can make space for others too. It is possible to be deeply sad and deeply joyful at the same time. They don’t cancel each other out, sometimes they even harmonize.

Micah 6:6-8 is one of my favorite texts, and I know that’s true for many of you. “What does the Lord require of you but to do justice, and to love kindness, and to walk humbly with your God?” We try, really hard, to live this. But sometimes, I can get off kilter. I can get so focused on trying to do justice, that I forget to notice I’m also supposed to love and savor kindness. I also can forget that God is God and I’m not, and the responsibility for the whole world is NOT on my shoulders.

In recent months I’ve been hearing nudges from God to make more space for joy. It has been interesting to notice my own resistance to it. There are biases in me that worry about making space for joy. They tell me that I was born with rose colored glasses, and being an adult member of society requires me to see the injustices of the world clearly. They tell me that joy is trite, and not very serious, and I should be serious. They remind me of the things that break my heart, and suggest I worry more about those and less about trivial stuff. Basically, there is this whole narrative within me that says I’m supposed to be a mature, responsible human, and that means I should just attend to the hard stuff of life.

And that’s all really interesting because I KNOW BETTER. I believe that God wants all people to be well, to survive and thrive, to experience joy and wonder. I don’t think that anyone is excluded from that, so I believe we are honoring creation and connecting with the Divine when we experience joy.

I know that joy is resistance, that there are parts of our society that try to create anxiety, and sadness for personal gain, and it is useful have joy to repel that. I also know that joy creates internal resistance, making it possible to do the hard things when they come because they aren’t the only thing.

I know a God who calls us to Sabbath- away from consumption and productively and into connection- and I know connection to be a great source of joy. That is, I believe God sets aside time for just joy so that we don’t get confused into thinking life is just about work and hardship.

I also have the honor of being with people at the end of their life, and being with loved ones after a person has died. I know which memories are savored, which things are regretted, and how meaning is made of a life – and it all ends up calling us towards joy.

Finally, and this one may seem backwards – when we mourn unfair and early deaths, a lot of what we grief is the lack of space for the person to continue to have joy in their lives. That would seem to tell us that those who love us want us to life and find joy and savor it! JUST LIKE GOD DOES.

I know all that, I can expound on it for a lot longer than this, and I still find it hard to let myself do it. Some people are better at this than others, and maybe some roles in life hold emotions differently than other roles. I don’t know. I kind of hope this is one of those sermons that doesn’t resonate easily.

Some of the ones who are wise about God suggest that goodness, wonder, and joy lie at the heart of all things, and if you can just see them at the right angle, everything positively sparkles with joy. Other wise ones about God say that it is a mark of true faith to have deep joy.

Which is all to say, if there is some resistance to joy in you – be it your own struggles, or seemingly conflicting emotions, or some narratives that tell you that joy isn’t right for you – I invite you to push back. God wants joy for you, and requests that you stop squelching it. Joy is for everyone, that’s actually the thing we’re doing. We’re working with God to build the kin-dom of God, and one of the ways we’ll know when we get there will be the abundance of joy. And one of the ways we get there is to stop getting in the way of joy!

So, a final story. When I was in college, I had a fairly significant fight with a friend because I’d shared that cookie cutters brought me joy and he maintained that was simply ridiculous. I argued I had a right to feel how I felt, he maintained that … well, basically it seems he said all the stuff I internalized as a narrative about what it means to be a mature adult. Hmmm, I thought I won that fight!! Anyway, there are sugar cookies available with coffee hour today, cut with cookie cutters and decorated with too many sprinkles, and I hope they bring you joy – you deserve it. Thanks be to God for that, 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 17, 2023

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December 10, 2023
by Sara Baron

“Yearning for Peace” based on Isaiah 10:1-4, 20-27

This week we were asked not to light the candle of peace on the Advent wreath. It was a request we took seriously, as it came from The United Methodist General Board of Global Ministries as a request to be in solidarity with the lack of peace in Israel and Palestine. Now, I wouldn’t want to spoil the ending for you on this or anything, but we have already lit the Advent Wreath, and we DID light the candle of peace. So you now how this ends. Except, we didn’t light the normal 2nd candle, the second of two purple candles. Instead we lit an Amnesty International Candle.

I should go back to the beginning, right?

This is the second week of Advent, the week when we traditionally light the candle of peace, to add to the candle of hope. The one small light fighting back against the darkness suddenly becomes two, which isn’t a whole lot of light but is double what the wreath previously held.

And we know there isn’t peace on earth, there hasn’t been peace on the full earth at any point since Jesus was born, but we yearn for peace nonetheless, and we know God as a source of peace, and Jesus as the Prince of Peace, and just like last week we connected with the Hope of God, this week we are meant to connect with the Peace of God and move a little bit more into it.

And, peace, in Biblical terms is more than just the absence of violence – although that would seem like progress right now. Peace in the Hebrew Bible is Shalom, a word that combines individual well-being with communal well being and thinks about the well being of the body, mind, emotions, and spirit – all while thinking about having access to enough resources to thrive. It is holistic. One can not be at peace if one’s neighbor is not.

In recent years I’ve learned that in many parts of Africa, our siblings in faith use the world “ubuntu” to say a lot of this. Archbishop Tutu explains:

The first law of our being is that we are in a delicate network of interdependence with our fellow human beings and with the rest of God’s creation… [Ubuntu] is the essence of being human. It speaks of the fact that my humanity is caught up and inextricably bound up in yours. I am human because I belong. It speaks about wholeness: it speaks about compassion. A person with ubuntu is welcoming, hospitable, warm and generous, willing to share. Such people are open and available to others, willing to be vulnerable, affirming of others, do not feel threatened that others are able and good, for they have a proper self-assurance that comes from knowing that they belong in a greater whole. They know that they are diminished when others are humiliated, diminished when others are oppressed, diminished when others are treated as if they were less than who they are.1

Then we get a request that says:

Our Christian colleagues in Bethlehem tell us that this Advent and Christmas in Bethlehem the lights that normally adorn the birthplace of Jesus will remain unlit in memory of those who have been killed in the current conflict. The patriarchs and heads of churches in Jerusalem have noted that the traditional festive services in the Holy Land will be somber in nature due to the ongoing war.

The second candle on the Advent wreath represents peace, and in some traditions is known as the ”Bethlehem candle.” This Advent, we invite Methodist churches across the globe to do something out of the ordinary and refrain from lighting the Advent candle on the second Sunday in Advent (Dec. 10) and on subsequent Sundays. (GBGM)

Now, we took this request really seriously. It got passed around, Worship Committee read it and discussed it in our meeting, we found ourselves discussing the root meaning of the candles. We all care deeply about peace, about the impact of violence and war, the grief and trauma in the Holy Land, and those who have been killed there. The request came from our siblings in faith who are THERE, and we tend towards solidarity around here, right?

But, the idea of NOT lighting the candle felt so very, very wrong. Curiously wrong, actually, we had to figure out why it bothered us so. I think I heard us land on the idea that we light the candle to honor peace, to seek peace, to connect with peace, and we just couldn’t handle NOT lighting it when it is needed so badly. But nor could we just ignore the request. That didn’t seem acceptable either, especially when the symbolism requested was to honor those who have died in this horrible war.

Thank God for committees, because together we come up with better ideas than any of us could alone. Today we lit an Amnesty International Candle instead of the normal purple one. “Amnesty’s trademark is a candle wrapped in barbed wire. The candle represents:

The light of public attention that Amnesty members shine on the hidden abuses (the barbed wire) of human rights violators.
The spark of public pressure that Amnesty members create in order to bring about positive change in people’s lives.
The beacon of hope and solidarity for people who defend human rights, often at great personal risk, and for the many who become”2

So we lit a candle of acknowledgment of those killed, a candle of peace and yearning for peace, and a candle of solidarity with all at once. It still isn’t the perfect symbol, I’m not sure one exists, but we did it with great care. And now you are caught up.

After the conversation, Eileen Deming shared this quote from Howard Thurman:

“I will light candles this Christmas.

Candles of joy, despite all the sadness.

Candles of hope where despair keeps watch.

Candles of courage where fear is ever present.

Candles of peace for tempest-tossed days.

Candles of grace to ease heavy burdens.

Candles of love to inspire all of my living.

Candles that will burn all the year long. ”

None of this is to say that the original ask of the Board of Global Ministries wasn’t valid!! It was! The ask made space for us to really think about what we’re doing and why, and what feels like our response to an important request.

Now, every time we talk about peace, I hear in my head a simple truth, “if you want peace, work for justice.” I fear the consequences of this current war are not only the heartbreak and horror of Oct. 7th and the heartbreak and horror SINCE October 7th, but the grief, trauma, and fear of today will be the seedbed for conflicts for decades to come.

And that difficult reality also brings my thoughts closer to home. In the devotional from We Cry Justice for this week, Dr. Charon Hribar discusses the laws in New York City that create a particular injustice for those who are homeless. In New York City, there are 5 times more spaces in vacant buildings and lots than there are homeless people who need them. Or at least this was true 2 years ago, I suspect the basic truth remains even if the statistic doesn’t hold with the influx of migrants. Even more so, the vacant lots and buildings are usually located in exactly the same neighborhoods where homelessness is the highest. Why? Because those buildings and vacant lots are “good investments” to hold for a few decades and see if those neighborhoods gentrify. They’re held by shell corporations for unknown corporate prospectors. Meanwhile, the acquisition of the investment properties ends up kicking people out of their homes, creating ever more homelessness. And, of course, these facts aren’t neutral, they are created by the laws of the country, state, and city, which prioritize the wealth accumulation of the land prospectors over the lives of the homeless.

To be clear, New York City isn’t the only place such priorities are in place.

In addition to being blatantly inhumane, I fear such policies are the exact opposite of “if you want peace, work for justice.” What story are we telling people who fall through our safety net? That society is just? That they should seek the well-being of the whole because it will help take care of them too? That people see their pain? Alas, no. They’re taught by societal action and inaction that no one cares, they are on their own, their lives and their pain don’t matter. And that, dear ones, doesn’t lead us towards peace.

The prophet Isaiah sounds like many other prophets when he warns that the injustices of Ancient Israel will bring its downfall. Isaiah claims the downfall is God’s punishment, I tend to think it is natural consequences. In any case, in chapter 10 Isaiah outlines the ways that Ancient Israelite society is profoundly unjust – which we read – then how that’s true of Assyria too (we skipped that). Isaiah says they’ll both be wiped out as punishment, but that God’s love is such that the punishment will not wipe out all of Ancient Israel, there will be a remnant with which to rebuild. With God, hope is never wiped out.

Dr. Hribrar ends her devotional saying:

We are taught to obey the law, under the assumption that the social structure in which we live is just. But when the economic system and the policies that protect it are designed to put corporate profits before people’s lives, we, like Isaiah, must call out the policy violence that is taking place. We must be wiling to proclaim that these laws are moral and wrong.3

It is the way towards peace. It is also the way of Jesus. Among the most profound teachings of Jesus was the way of nonviolence. The premise of the Empire of Rome, the superpower in the time of Jesus was “first violence, then peace.” The response of Jesus seems to have been, “first peace, then peace.” You can’t wipe out violence with violence. It won’t work. You can’t build peace with violence. As followers of Jesus we know that neither violence nor injustice get us to peace.

But peace and justice do. Each time we call out an unjust law, we move towards peace. Each time we offer a gift in love to pick up someone who is otherwise unseen in society, we move towards peace. Each moment we find peace within creates more peace in the world. Each little way we seek to create more justice creates the space for more peace in the world. Each time we choose peace, and each time we choose justice, we bring along the work of God and Jesus… the work towards a nonviolent kindom of peace. May it come – soon. Amen

1Archbishop Desmond Tutu, God Has a Dream: A Vision of Hope For Our Time (Doubleday, 2005).

2 https://amnesty.ca/what-you-can-do/youth/start-up-kit/amnesty-101/

3Charon Hribar, “41: Who to You Who Pass Unjust Laws” in We Cry Justice, ed. Liz Theoharis (Minneapolis: Broadleaf Books, 2021) p. 179, 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

December 10, 2023

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December 3, 2023
by Sara Baron

“Yearning for Hope” based on Job 24:1-11, 22-25

Today we re-start the Christian Year, the liturgical cycle of waiting, celebrating, growing, waiting, celebrating, growing. We are now back in waiting. I think I fall deeper in love with Advent every year. The more commercialist Christmas pushes red and white, the more I find myself retreating the Advent colors of purple and pink. The more commercialism pushes secular carols, the more I find myself retreating into the quiet of the sanctuary and the integrity of Advent Hymns. The more commercialism pushes sales and deals the more attention I give to Alternative Christmas.

While secular Christmas has its bright, cheery, feel-good energy all around us, Christian Advent calls us to slow down, reflect, savor. Today we lit the candle of hope, one small light in an ever expanding darkness, one small light that will prove to be enough.

Now, I’m not against secular Christmas, I rather like it, but it feels disconnected from the one Christian one. This fall we did a Bible Study on the Christmas Stories in the Gospels, and we compared and contrasted them with our Christmas memories, our Christmas delights, and even the meaning we make from Christmas. (There is a poster in the back inviting you to do the same.) For most of us, Luke’s story of Christmas fit our faith the best, and made the most sense of it all. We also discovered that reading Luke 1 and 2 together made Luke 2 a whole lot more delightful. Luke centers on women, and on the disenfranchised, and the good news to all people. It fits who we seek to be as a church.

But for now, we’re still waiting, right? We’re waiting, and the description of the world being terribly wrong from the Bible’s most depressive abused character (Job) is doing its job of settling us into waiting. The description Job offers is of the world as it is and we YEARN with all our beings for the KINDOM of God where those descriptions no longer apply.

This Christian Year, the Worship Committee has taken seriously a request from the Intersectional Justice Committee to focus together on the book “We Cry Justice” put out by the Poor People’s Campaign. It is a book in 52 parts, meant to be read devotionally, and no matter how many times our Book Club tried, it didn’t become a readable book. It is a devotional book, so they asked if we could incorporate it into worship, and Worship Committee and I thought that was a wonderful idea. We have completed our year with “A Women’s Lectionary for the Whole Church,” which was a gift from God via Dr. Wil Gafney, and there is space for a different focus.

The Poor People’s Campaign is a group of amazing activists who decided it was time to pick up the mantle from Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King Jr who was himself leading a Poor People’s Campaign at the time of his death. We have been lightly involved with the modern campaign for years, and we have KNOWN that it is one of the ways God is at work in the world, and yet we haven’t quite given it our attention, until now. The book “We Cry Justice” is intentional Biblical interpretation with an eye towards the injustices of the world towards people in poverty. When I wrote them asking for permission to use prayers and quotations in worship they got back to us immediately granting it!

So this year as we settle to wait, our waiting is really defined by our waiting for JUSTICE for the vulnerable and those living in poverty. This fits the life this church particularly well, when I think about what we focus on in mission, while it hasn’t even been a decision exactly, the goals seem to be to lighten the burdens of those living in poverty. We see in our neighbors, our fellow members and worshippers, those dear to us, and quite ourselves the struggles of trying to live in a world that values the creation of capital over the well-being of the vulnerable.

I don’t know about you, but it breaks my heart.

Over and over again.

Actually, I kind of do know about you. I know that this is a community of faith whose belief in God and God’s dreams for the world include knowing that what is just and right in the world is for people to have access to food that is nutritious, delicious and plentiful; to housing that is safe, mold-free, and affordable; and to healthcare that is caring, effective, and doesn’t require declaring bankruptcy. That we are people who believe that God’s desires in the world are for people to live full abundant lives, and we know what is impairing that.

I expect that what I just said was so ridiculously obvious that you don’t know why I’m bothering wasting my breath on it. Thank you for that, because, dear ones, what is clear and obvious here isn’t in the world at large. Our society as a whole is at peace with people being hungry or we would expand SNAP benefits to cover the WHOLE month, expand access to SNAP benefits to everyone who really needs it, and … oh, let’s talk about reality, we wouldn’t have had our federal government cut $22 million from funding for regional food banks that are the last-gap measure between those who are struggling and hunger. (THIS is why we have to go to the store for meat, because the Food Bank can’t afford to get it anymore.) Our society as a whole is at peace with homelessness, or we’d prioritize safe, accessible housing in our budgets and our legislation. Our society as a whole is at peace with people not have access to healthcare, or not being able to afford to access healthcare, or going bankrupt from accessing healthcare or – wait for it – we’d have a different way of providing and funding healthcare.

And when I’m out in the world, listening, a shocking number of people think that those living in poverty should just try harder, or suffer a little because they deserve it, or …. well, basically the assumption is that poverty is the fault of the individual and poverty is the punishment someone deserves for not “succeeding” in capitalism.

Thank God, we see people as beloved children of God worthy of good things and abundant life, and not worthy of being punished because the game is rigged and they can’t win.

Thank God we know a God who is defined by universal love, grace, and mercy. It turns out that matters a lot in what we think justice looks like.

So, here we are on this first Sunday of Advent with one candle-flicker of light in our sanctuary reminding us to hold on to hope. And we have that while we heard words from Job that tell us how the world really is. In “We Cry Justice” Aaron Scott reflects on this Job reading saying:

I see countless tents, tarps, and shacks lining freeway underpasses – up one day, then disappearing the next, removed by cities desperate to keep up appearances instead of keeping up with justice and mercy. I see signs turning parking lots and stoplights across the country into hostile territory: “No Loitering,” “No Illegal Shopping Carts, “No Panhandling.”

And last week while our social worker Sylvester worked to find housing for God’s beloveds who had shown up last week, he confirmed counties in the capital region are buying people bus passes to other counties to avoid the cost of housing them.

The world as it is.

But, dear ones, we aren’t waiting for more of the same. We are waiting for God’s Kindom on earth. And this year, I have noticed something terribly obvious. We aren’t just waiting with our ancestors in faith who also yearned for justice and God’s dreams. I believe we are waiting with God’s own self, God who yearns to see us make different choices and offer better care for God’s vulnerable beloveds.

A challenge of faith today is to look at all the brokenness, all the injustice, all the heartaches, and hold hope. And yet, dear ones, there is plenty. There is hope because God seeks justice. There is hope because this is a community of faith that sees the injustice around us and calls it “immoral.” There is hope because there is a whole Poor People’s Campaign out there working on it! There is hope because God and we, and others along with us, will never concede that this is good enough. There is hope because at the deepest core of reality, there is goodness (God’s goodness) and it is going to break through eventually.

There is hope in this darkness. And the yearning for hope, the yearning for better, the yearning for the kindom is some of the hope itself. Thanks be to God. Amen

December 3, 2023

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 19, 2023
by Sara Baron

“Seeing the Daisies” based on Psalm 89:1-8, 14 and John 2:1-11

Christianity has a weird relationship with food. In the abstract, with the Communion Meal at the center of our shared worship history, you might think we’d be especially great at seeing the sacredness of food. I think it is fair to say that you’d be wrong.

Before the Christian Testament of the Bible was even complete, we have letters from Paul to various communities saying, “please pay attention to each other when you gather for Communion and Worship.” Because, apparently, the rich people were bringing feasts, the poor people were bringing what they had, and ALREADY they weren’t actually sharing. The inequality of the world was coming to the Communion Table, and Paul was displeased.

I’ll also note, that I’m not delighted with his answer to this conundrum. Instead of urging sharing, he told people to eat at home in advance rather than feast in front of hungry others.

After the letters of Paul, but before Christianity really got its foothold in the world, much of the tradition was carried on by the Desert Fathers and Mothers. This may be news to you, I hadn’t heard of them until seminary. These remarkably faithful humans felt a calling by God to devote their lives to prayer, and went out into the desert so as not to be distracted by the drama of human life. Quite often others came to them seeking their spiritual wisdom. The ones who gathered around these desert wisdom teachers eventually became monastic communities. Cool. One of the problematic little nuances to this though, was that many (most? all?) of the desert fathers and mothers in their zealous pursuit of God and rejection of things of humans, were known for not eating and claiming to be sustained simply by the love of God.

Now, I’ll say that these desert parents look a lot more like John the Baptist than Jesus to me, but still, our faith probably wouldn’t have made it without them, so they’re in our religious DNA.

This underlying hostility to food can still be found in a lot of Christianity, it was striking to me last week as I gathered together readings about the sacredness of food and other “pretties” in life, that books I thought would have some delicious bit of reflection on the profound wonder of reading a ripe apple instead recommended abstaining from the joy of food and considering eating a necessary evil. FACEPALM

Now, we insert our Gospel lesson into this conversation! So that we can hear this while also holding among ourselves compassion for those who struggle with addiction, it probably helps to remember that water in those days in that part of the world was not safe for drinking, and wine was what was commonly consumed. It was a lot less potent than what people drink today, and I think the focus here is on abundant provision rather than specifically on wine. We aren’t celebrating drinking, but rather the continuation of a meal where people celebrate – which today can happen with all kinds of drinks.

Jesus is a guest at a wedding, where they are running out of wine which would have been embarrassing to the hosts and likely cut off the party, but didn’t fall under the responsibilities of Jesus. There is no consensus on why Mary intervenes. Perhaps the wedding hosts were her extended family. Perhaps she was ready for him to get on with his ministry. Perhaps this whole story is used by John as a foreshadowing of the later feeding narratives. I can’t tell you.

What I can tell you is that this story is in the Gospel of John, and is considered by Christian tradition to be the “first miracle of Jesus” and what he actually does is make a ridiculous amount of really good wine that enables a wedding feast to continue and the wedding hosts to save face.

When we look at the problems of the world, this one seems pretty small. It does, indeed, initially seem beneath the attention of Jesus – at least the Jesus of the Gospel of John who is a human who has amazing powers like making water into wine.

But perhaps the idea that this miracle is beneath Jesus comes out of that anti-food and anti-drink part of Christianity. The part of our faith that is AGAINST the world and its pleasures. But, friends, I tend to prefer the part of our faith tradition that is FOR the world, and reminds us to attend to and savor and enjoy the pleasures of life.

Jesus gets accused of being a drunkard and a glutton. Jesus’ followers are accused of breaking the sabbath by munching on some wheat while they walk through a field. Jesus horrifies the faithful by eating with the “sinners.” One of the VERY few narratives in all four gospels is the feeding of the multitudes. And, we have this story, Jesus turning water into wine.

Whatever our tradition may say, we follow Jesus who was into food and getting food to people. He did NOT tell people that it was holier to be hungrier. I think he thought of food as a God given gift of abundance that should be shared between God’s beloved people. And based on Jesus’ fairly excellent social analysis, and his capacity to see the blight of the poor, he knew better than to claim being hungry was GOOD. Because hunger was killing people.

Bill McKibben in Deep Economy says, “for almost all people throughout history (and for most people still today) ‘the economy’ is just a fancy way of saying ‘What’s for dinner?’ and ‘am I having any?”1 That’s the world Jesus lived in, and the one we live in.

So, if you’ll allow it, I’m going to add a little bit of imagination to the text. I don’t think it takes too much. Jesus and his family may have been very poor, at the very least they were landless when land usually meant sustainability. And they were near a lot of Empire violence, which doesn’t tend to bode well for already vulnerable people.

Because Mary intervenes, I think it is mostly appropriate to read this story as if she’s related to the hosts. Worrying about each other’s problems is a family thing. And if Jesus and his family were poor, and this family hadn’t been able to provide enough wine, it seems like we can pretty easily imagine that they too were poor. And maybe we can even consider that many of the wedding GUESTS would also have been people living in poverty. The exact kind of people who didn’t get a lot of invitations to fancy dinner parties put on by rich people – like in some parables.

So, Jesus – a materially poor guy – is at a party with a lot of other people who don’t have an excess of calories or luxuries, and he is asked to help prevent some embarrassment by providing some wine. And he does. He keeps the party going. The people get to connect with each other longer. The hosts are relieved.

The story says that he provided BETTER wine that what they’d all started with.

For me, today, that’s the crux of the story. Jesus wants good things for people, in abundance. The amount of wine said to be produced was actually a bit obscene 😉 It isn’t carefully proportioned, it isn’t “just good enough.” It isn’t leftovers from someone else’s fancy party. It is the good stuff, in abundance, because everyone is worthy of good food and drink. Because Jesus is a person of God, the one who made the world of abundance and asked us to distribute the goods so that everyone gets what they need! And it is ALL the good stuff.

Many of us will sit down at tables this week to savor a feast. If you don’t have other plans to do so, please come to the Spaghetti feast on Friday at lunchtime! It also promises to the be the good stuff in abundance.

Whatever table you sit at, with whatever company you will be keeping, I hope you will take the time to savor every bite as a gift from the God of Abundance who wants us to receive good things.

As our poem said today:

We walk on starry fields of white
And do not see the daisies;
For blessings common in our sight
We rarely offer praises.2

The good stuff is all around us, in food and in beauty. We’re called to notice. We’re called to savor. We need the chance to say thank you to the Holy One for the good!

Of course, there is always a next step, the one where we keep working for God’s vision of a world where those resources of good and abundant food are accessible for everyone. But, first, dear ones, first eat and savor. John says Jesus first gave a gift of abundance to a people who didn’t expect it, but enjoyed it. We are fed to feed, blessed to be blessings, loved so we can love. Receive what you are given, and enjoy it. It is the Jesus way, even if Christianity can’t always seem to remember that! Amen

1Bill McKibben, Deep Economy: The Wealth of Communities and the Durable Future, (New York: Holt Paperbacks, 2007), p. 47.

2Ella Wheeler Wilcox “Thanksgiving” https://poets.org/poem/thanksgiving-1

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

November 19, 2023

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November 5, 2023
by Sara Baron

“The Great Cloud of Witnesses” based on Isaiah 25:1, 4a, 6-10a and Matthew 27:50-56

Rev. Dr. Wilda Gafney who compiled the Lectionary we’ve used this year, says, “For the Feast of All Saints, this lectionary turns to declarations of God’s faithfulness to all peoples and nations.”1 Perhaps I’m silly, but that was a fabulous “ah ha” for me! When we celebrate All Saints, we are simultaneously thanking God for the lives of the saints AND for God’s presence in the life of the saints. That is, for God’s faithfulness. This awareness brings with it the reminder that even the saints who have gone on before us wouldn’t have themselves if not for God’s actions in their lives.

As a pastor, I sometimes get to hear the stories of God’s faithfulness that aren’t quite public knowledge. The stuff of God can be so vulnerable, and sometimes so WEIRD that it can be hard to share it widely. But I can assure you with the saints we are honoring today who I got to know as their pastor, that there were incredible moments of grace and awe in their lives, for which they were grateful, and in which they were formed.

One story I do have the right to share, and that’s good because it is the story I most want to share with you today. One of our saints who is very heavy on my heart today is Lois Atkinson, it is hard to enter this building without thinking of her because it was so very common to enter this building and either see her or see evidence of her work.

When Lois was actively parenting her three beloved children, her husband and their father came out as gay. It was at the time a rather large scandal in the church, in no small part because he came out from this pulpit and those impacted by it didn’t know it was coming. He left the marriage, and Lois suddenly was the primary provider for her three beloved children. So she got herself a fill time job teaching at SCCC and a part time job too. It was challenging for a while, but things went on, and everyone thrived, and that’s a lovely story.

But there are more pieces, ones that feel really important when we talk about God’s faithfulness and the faithfulness of the saints.

The first of these pieces is that Lois calmly, carefully, consistently, worked in advocacy for LGBTQIA+ people. She served on our Reconciling Team, and she worked hard on making it all that it could be. She marched in Pride Parades. Before we had a Reconciling Team, she worked for this church to become Reconciling – both by giving a lecture on the biology of human sexuality to the church as a whole AND by introducing those who didn’t know queer or trans people to queer and trans people so they could engage with their humanity. Lois kept on working for justice for all people, and she didn’t let anything stop her.

Now, Lois eventually met Richard and remarried and those two REALLY liked each other, which is a very good thing. But the thing that amazed Lois the most was this: when her ex-husband married his long time partner, he invited Lois and Richard to the wedding. She was pretty amazed by that on its own, she thought it indicated that they’d divorced well. Well, Lois and Richard went, and when they came back Lois did something that I only knew her to do that ONE time: she asked if she could meet with me.

Clearly I agreed, and she came in BURSTING with joy. This was the most exuberant I’d ever seen her. She came to talk about the wedding they’d been at, and how WELL she was treated – like an honored guest, and how it had exceeded anything she’d ever expected was possible when they’d divorced. She showed me pictures, and she gushed with wonder at the picture of her adult children with her and their “three dads” – their father and both stepfathers.

Lois didn’t complain about her lot in life, and she didn’t blame anyone for things being hard. In fact the closest thing to a complaint I heard from her was an acknowledgment that for a woman who didn’t like the spotlight, it was hard to be in it when the church was talking about her family, but it was worthwhile because she couldn’t have made it without the church.

Oh friends, I wish you could have seen the wonder in her eyes when she talked about the wedding. I also wish I could remember her words about it verbatim, she said something like “I finally understand resurrection.”

Shoot, maybe I should have held this story for Easter!!

Naw, this is a story of one of our saints, and it could get lost in the brass and lilies of Easter, and it is too important for that. It is real life resurrection, it is hope where even the seeds of hopefulness had never dared to enter. It is life coming full circle in a more abundant and wonderful way that anyone would have EVER imagined.

Also, it is the amazing outcome of decades of faithfulness ending up mattering, which …. let’s be honest, is a story we all could use sometimes.

Our Scriptures today focus on the end of death, that God’s faithfulness will eventually make death disappear. This was definitely a big part of the early Christian narrative. While plenty of other Greco-Roman heroes were said to be resurrected by their various gods or goddesses, the Christian narrative was that Jesus’ resurrection and then ascension opened the door for his followers to defy death as well. By which they meant access to afterlife, because until that point it was assumed only the very very very special who were favored by their gods lived after death. But the early Jesus movement came to believe that Jesus was the firstborn of the dead, and his followers got to follow him into afterlife.

For many Christians today, the promise of heaven is the biggest selling point of our faith. For many of us, and for many of the saints we honor today, that isn’t the central point. For us, the point is making life better on earth, and connecting with the Eternal One.

But, I think we are still people of resurrection. People who see wonder and hope and new life possibilities in life itself. We are people who remember when we lose a loved one that we are able to honor them by living out their best qualities. We are people who believe the kindom is possible, and what we do with our lives matters.

God’s faithfulness is seen in the life of the saints, and in God’s presence with the saints. Resurrection is too. Thanks be to God! Amen

1Wilda Gafney, A Women’s Lectionary for the Whole Church (New York, NY: Church Publishing, 2021), p. 313.

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. 5, 2023

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October 29, 2023
by Sara Baron

“Time and God” based on Psalm 90:1-10, 12 and John 7:37-44

There is a story, maybe for kids maybe for adults, called “The Little Prince” which centers on the experience of a small human from another planet who accidentally comes to earth and notices things that regular inhabitants do not. Copyright law prohibits me from reading the section of the book to you that our scriptures reminded me of, and so, alas, you are stuck with my rather boring summary instead. There is a scene where the little prince meets and chats with a railway switch-man, and maybe it helps to know the book was published in France in 1943.

The railway switch-man describes his job as sorting out travelers, by the thousands, and sending them off either to the right or the left. The Little Prince wonders why they’re hurrying around so, and is told no one knows. When another train goes by, the Little Prince wonders why the people aren’t satisfied where they once were, and is told no one is satisfied where they are.

I often think of that rail-station perspective as I watch cars veer this way and that way, while pedestrians walk up and down the street, and we each go about our lives. Where are we all going? Why? Do we know why?

Our Psalm today reminds me of this little rail-side story, in that it puts life into a larger context. The Psalm feels like standing outside at night in a dark deserted place and seeing uncountable stars, and noticing the vastness of the universe and the smallness of each of our lives. Or, perhaps, the Psalm feels like standing at the end of a pier looking into the ocean, with waves upon waves upon waves coming in and and unending horizon of water. Compared the vastness, we are so very small.

Sometimes in the awe of those moments, in the immensity of what is, it is possible to rest more fully on the Divine, and remember that our problems are also quite a bit smaller than the vastness of the universe and the infinite Holy One. And that can be truly lovely.

But, we come back, away from the ocean, and Schenectady isn’t a great place for star viewing, so our problems usually return to their normal sizes in our lives. We forget that “a thousand years in” God’s “sight are like yesterday when it is past and like a watch in the night.”

A colleague at Schenectady Clergy Against Hate reflected this week that at this moment in history humans are doing truly horrible things to each other and it is hard to make sense of it. That colleague then mentioned that this isn’t any different than any other time in human history. Which, I fear, is pretty true. It is also good perspective.

How do we hold the struggles of our own lives, which are often very significant, and the struggles of the world, which are often very significant? How do we hold them in tension with hope? How do we hold them in tension with love, and joy, and laughter? How do we hold them in tension with beauty and wonder? OK, let’s be honest – how do we hold our struggles and the world’s struggles without letting them drown us? That’s the question I’m really after.

How does God hold these struggles, and does that teach us anything about how we are to hold them? Our Psalm reading today ends with the words, “So teach us to number our days that we may apply our hearts to Wisdom.” Perhaps that contains answers.

The Psalm, and those nighttime skies I’m so fond of, make us pretty small, right? The Psalm says, mortals, the women born, become dust again.

You sweep them aside; they are an illusion;

in the morning flourishing and in the evening wilting and withering.

In the morning it is green and flourishes;

in the evening it is dried up and withered.

Or, to speak of a human life, “The span of our live is seventy years, perhaps in strength even eighty; yet the sum of them is but labor and sorrow, for they pass quickly and we are gone.” The Psalm calls us to remember our mortality, and to hold that reality that our lives will be finite.

Now, there is a lot of pressure to ignore our own mortality, right? But its truth remains. And sometimes the way to hold perspective in life is to remember that we have only this one short span of time to savor, and it is worth holding it sacred and using it with some intention. There is a value in the goodness of life, AND there is a value in creating more goodness in life. There is plenty of sorrow – the Psalm doesn’t hold back on that reality does it – but it isn’t the whole story.

I could answer some of the Little Prince’s questions, I think. Most of the people are going to work or from work, some to visit others, some to vacation, some to pick up things they need (or want), and maybe a few are trying to get away from it all. Most are probably missing the wonder that is life, the scenery passing by the windows, the human interactions happening on the train, the simple wonder of taking breathes in and letting them go. Some are bored, some are scared, some are angry, and some are happy, some are excited, some are hopeful.

Most of us, most days, are a little bit of all of the above.

Next week we will celebrate the Saints of God who have passed out of this life in the past year. It is a holy and sacred time, a reminder of the the great cloud of witnesses who surround us and wish goodness for us. They are also people we miss dearly. Ones who taught us lessons, ones we laughed with, ones we sought out for companionship. We miss them, we wish to have more time with them, often we wish for them a fuller live.

So how do we lead lives that are full? How do we make the best of the time we have on earth? How do we learn the lessons of the saints, and how do we hold tragedy and joy at the same time?

I certainly need regular reminders that God WANTS a full and abundant life for me, just like for everyone else. I need reminders that both rest and joy are forms of resistance that build the kindom AND enable the building of the kindom. I need the reminder that it is OK to savor the goodness and not just wallow in the brokenness. I’m quite thankful for prayer time which offers me those reminders – along with a good spiritual director.

More and more I’ve come to believe in the wisdom of bodies, I mean the physical bodies we inhabit (and sometimes too the groups of people we variously call bodies or the bodies of Christ). But let’s start with our physical bodies, that have sensations that we can learn to identify as emotions, and that our emotions are REALLY wonderful clues to our needs and our responses to what’s going on around us and when we take our bodies seriously we can take both our feelings and needs seriously and that this is actually CENTRAL to our spirituality which is CENTRAL to full and abundant lives.

About 4 weeks ago, after a week of feeling a little under the weather, I developed ear infections and then both of my ear drums burst. Let me assure you I haven’t appreciated that. It hurt, my hearing is slowly resolving, rather despite the best efforts of modern medicine. Nothing helped, until one of you suggested that if anti-biotics and allergy meds don’t work, maybe my body needs rest.

(It is said all preachers preach to themselves, you are welcome to laugh at me all you want.)

Maybe my body needs rest. Maybe I can’t just keep on pushing. Huh.

Dear ones, we can’t end suffering in our own lives or in the world. Violence is. Wars are. Cancer is.

When paying attention to the suffering is something we do because we have compassion to offer, or wonder, or love, or care, that’s wonderful! But I fear sometimes we pay attention because we think we “should” when that very attention does us harm. Because we now have access to information on suffering in nearly infinitely ways in nearly infinite places, and it can drown us.

So, when comes to our own lives and our loved ones, we can take the time to listen to our bodies, our emotions, our spirits (I think they’re all one), and hear what the Sacred is Calling Us To in order to have abundant lives. When it comes to the world around us, when we are centered and have heard ourselves, we are able to offer the love and joy the world is desperate for.

AND ALSO, the one who holds the world on their shoulders is the Divine, who also holds the world in their heart, who also holds the world’s aches and delights. God doesn’t actually call us to the full heartbreak of the whole world. Our beings hear bad news 4 times louder than good news. Which means that to have a balanced understanding of the world we need to seek out the good news A LOT, because the bad news SELLS and is ever present AND we have a bias towards it.

Beloveds of God, we are not called to give up our lives in grieving for every tragedy around the world. The only one who can do that is God. We are allowed to stop, to stop knowing, to stop listening, to stop taking in the hurts. It isn’t our job to grieve for everything.

I fear that there pressure on us to know and understand every injustice from every angle, to be informed, to be responsive, to be aware. But we can’t, and trying may break us. In our relatively short lives, God calls us to abundance, to joy, to goodness, to living and savoring life and making it possible to help others do the same. But we don’t have to solve all problems, or even know about them. We can let God be God. Phew. And we can let God, “So teach us to number our days that we may apply our hearts to Wisdom.” May it be so. Amen

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

October 29, 2023

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October 22, 2023
by Sara Baron

“Seeking Peace” based on 1 Corinthians 6:1-6 and Luke 6:43-45

I tend to believe the the quote from Holocaust survivor Elie Wiesel, “We must take sides. Neutrality helps the oppressor, never the victim. Silence encourages the tormentor, never the tormented.” This makes me quite skeptical of both-sides-ism. To be fair, the primary justice issue I’ve worked on in my life is justice for LGBTQIA+ people, and the difference between teenagers committing suicide because they’re told they’re not loved and straight cis-people feeling uncomfortable is a great example of things NOT being equal.

However, today a part of my heart is in my throat, thinking about the conflict in the Middle East, and I can’t make sense out of it. There aren’t easy answers in Palestine and Israel. There is pain and suffering of generations, and worldwide context, and vulnerable people everywhere. And there are clear and abundant violations of human rights and human dignities. This is a case of both/and, I think.

I have been reminded this week to hold the history of Israel in context. Of course, I thought I was doing that, and I wasn’t. Modern Israel was created out of the need for a space for Jewish people to have self-determination after Christian neighbors and so-called Christian Countries proved themselves unwilling to hold Jewish life as sacred. This, of course, culminated in the Holocaust, which Elie Wiesel survived, but the Holocaust was an single extreme expression of the constant antisemitism of the world.

I wonder, from the perspective of 2023, if the choices made to create modern Israel were less supportive of Jewish life than they seemed at the time. A friend told me this week that if Israel’s neighbors laid down their weapons, there would be peace, but if Israel laid down their weapons, there would be no Israel. Because the powers of the world made decisions to create modern Israel, but did so without the cooperation and consent of the other nations in that region, and without an adequate plan for the people who had already been living in Israel. How did they think this would play out? Did they care?

There isn’t much space in our lives for context, and nuance, and careful conversations. There isn’t space for both/and. There isn’t a lot of space for acknowledging that Hamas was definitely, completely wrong in their attacks – it was barbaric terrorism AND that the blockades and attacks on Gaza are excessive and inhumane. We’re told we have to pick: be for one side or the other, either forget the centuries of antisemitism that our own faith tradition created and nurtured and stand for the downtrodden Palestinians OR forget the consistency of inhumane treatment of Muslims and Christians in Palestine, and stand for the Israelite state.

For those of us who believe they’re ALL God’s people, ALL God’s chosen, ALL God’s beloveds, Israel and Palestine looks like pain and horror right now. In trying to find the balance in this sermon, I sought wisdom from others whose eyes see what I fail. They reminded me that one way to stand for Israelis and for Palestinians is to stand against Hamas, who not only brutally attacked innocents, but also did so knowing the response would kill Palestinians in large numbers. Can we stand for our Jewish siblings here, around the world, and in Israel while standing for our Palestinian siblings? I believe we can, but it takes a willingness to look deeply, to be uncomfortable, and to shy away from fast talking points.

The Mennonite Church of Canada wrote a prayer lament and intercession for Palestine and Israel and I invite you to join me in the spirit of prayer1:

God of love and justice, our hearts are perplexed, paralyzed and broken at the recent carnage in Palestine and Israel. We lament the loss of life and the suffering of so many people. We are shocked at the inhumanity of violence, terrorism, and war.

Our prayers for peace seem to go unanswered. We wish you would intervene. We cling to your promise of a different world, but we see so few signs of its fulfillment. We do not understand.

Still, we continue to believe that you desire life and peace for all people.

Holy Spirit, strengthen our resolve to advocate for peace, justice, equality, and compassion for all. Don’t let us turn away.

Comfort all who are overwhelmed with loss—loss of life, loss of homes, loss of safety and security.

God of the vulnerable and the oppressed, renew the energy and creativity of those committed to nonviolent resistance and change.

We pray for the communities in the land where our shared faith was born and nurtured. May your love remain bright among your Jewish, Christian, Muslim and people. May they recognize your hand in their lives, even amidst the suffering. We pray for your peoples around the world, wishing hope, health, safety, and abundance for all.

God of all nations, guide our own government to respond in ways that support the legitimate rights of all, especially those who are most vulnerable, those who continue to suffer after generations of occupation, dispossession, and denial of basic human rights and those who fear for their safety.

May your kindom come, your will be done, on earth as it is in heaven. Yours is the kingdom, the power, the glory, now and forever.

Amen

You may have heard in our Epistle lesson this morning, a call from Paul for good conflict resolution. And you may have heard in our Gospel lesson this morning a reminder that we are not know by our intentions, but by our fruits. Come to church, hear hard things 😉

All I can offer the Middle East right now is my heartfelt prayers, and my profound compassion. What I can offer in the here and now is a refusal to participate in violence, even in my language. I can affirm the humanity of our Jewish and Muslim siblings in faith, I can acknowledge how horrifying and terrifying this is for anyone with family or friends in Israel and Palestine. And I can hold multiple truths – that Christianity has created the conditions by which Jews are dehumanized and live in fear around the world AND – hey look at us – Christianity has done the same to Muslims and many Christians do the same to Palestinians. Here, in the US – and around the world – I want Jewish people to be SAFE, whole, and assured that we’ll have their back. And I want the same for Palestinians of all faiths and for Muslims everywhere. Right? I’ve been thinking about what God might feel about it all. My best answer is “heartbroken.”

When the Methodist Federation for Social Action (MFSA) Board did an intense study of anti-racism, we were given a list of values in anti-racism institutions. One of them was “both/and thinking” and “moving toward collective action.” To be more direct, the training claimed that either/or thinking was a tool of oppression and both/and thinking was needed to make space for all people to be collaborative.2

I think about that a lot. I’ve noticed in my life that when I’m stuck between a THIS and a THAT, and I notice it, and take time to consider it, and even pray about it, that there is always an undiscovered THIRD WAY I wouldn’t have found unless I considered the important parts of THIS and the important parts of THAT together, and realized why I couldn’t let either one go. That God is in the both/and, and it can take me a while to find it, but it is always worth finding.

I’ve heard stories of those who have worked for peace though, have you ever heard them? Those who God has called to be peace-makers who have entered spaces with both sides of this conflict and found ways to let each side be actually heard? To even grieve together? The stories are always of small intentional groups, of people willing to participate, usually not of people in leadership who are most profoundly fixed in their positions (although in this conflict few people are easily moved.) But miracles have happened. People have heard each other. People have cried for each other. People have APOLOGIZED.

This work is being done RIGHT NOW. I learned this week that “one of the crucial movements in the peace space in Israel/Palestine now is the historic partnership between Women Wage Peace and Women of the Sun; the latter organization was founded in the summer of 2021, and is comprised of Palestinian women working for peace in the West Bank and Gaza. Women Wage Peace was founded after the Gaza war of 2014, is comprised of Jewish and Arab women who live inside the State of Israel, and has the two primary objectives of 1) Getting Israeli/Palestinian peace negotiations going (and to eventually achieve a “bilaterally acceptable political agreement”) and 2) guaranteeing that women are part of the negotiation process.”3 4

Let’s hear one story about peace, right now, huh? There is a group called the Parents’ Circle Families Forum—formerly the Bereaved Parents’ Circle. The organization is comprised of Israelis and Palestinians who have lost a family member in the ongoing violence. Their work is the slow work of trust building and creating connections.

Rabbi Danya Ruttenberg tells, and reflects on this story: On October 7th, Hersh Goldberg-Polin was kidnapped by Hamas and brought into Gaza. Shortly before the abduction, he lost his arm while protecting his friends from Hamas bullets and grenades; as far as anyone knows, he is badly wounded if he is still alive. He has not been heard from since being taken.

Last week, his mother, Rachel, wrote:

Time is slowly ticking into the future, with these hostages approaching a week in captivity. If he is still alive, how much longer can he survive? His wounds are grievous. I hope someone somewhere is being kind to him, caring for him, attending to him.

Hersh is my whole world, and this evil is the flood that is destroying it. I really don’t know if anything can save it. If anyone knows, please tell me. To save a life, our sages taught, is to save a world. Please help me save my son; it will save my world.

Every single person in Gaza has a mother, or had a mother at some point.

And I would say this, then, as mother to other mothers: If you see Hersh, please help him. I think about it a lot. I really think I would help your son, if he was in front of me, injured, near me.

And that’s the whole of it. “I would help your son.” Your daughter. Your child. Your beloved. Yours.

I understand that yours matters infinite worlds to you, because mine does, to me, and I hope that you see that, too.

I can see the infinity in yours, in fact, if I’m willing to look.1

What incredibly holy work is being done in seeing each other as beloveds. The article that shared that story, framed it in the lens of the holy work of mothering/parenting – and in seeing all the world’s children as “yours”. Dear ones, I think that’s where the pain comes from when we see brokenness in the world. Because we know all children – all people – to be God’s children, in need of good care, and worthy of good and abundant life.

So we seek peace. We seek peace through love by loving all people. This maybe doesn’t seem radical enough, or new enough. Maybe it isn’t new, but the world has proven to us time and time again, it is radical enough. Let’s work on it until we get it right. Then we can try to pull Christianity along 😉

Amen

1 https://www.mennonitechurch.ca/article/16090-prayer-of-lament-and-intercession-for-palestine-and-israel, accessed 10/19/2023 Edited.

2Work of Crossroads Antiracism Organizing and Training. I attended in 2017.

3 https://lifeisasacredtext.substack.com/p/a-peacemaking-lens?fbclid=IwAR1y50dbv2q-VxQQ_o1elI_-5UNYuOAEoMIMsEe9Tcg0gGNzHe44TvOKmMA

4The thoughts and concerns of Alice Gomstyn and Elliot Olshansky are peppered throughout this sermon, and I thank them for not letting me bumble along like an idiot, even when it is my job to be informed and not their job to inform me. I’ll also note that while they helped me, they can’t fix me 😉 so mistakes remain my own.

1 https://lifeisasacredtext.substack.com/p/a-peacemaking-lens?fbclid=IwAR1y50dbv2q-VxQQ_o1elI_-5UNYuOAEoMIMsEe9Tcg0gGNzHe44TvOKmMA

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

October 22, 2023

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October 1, 2023
by Sara Baron

“Blessed to be a Blessing” based on Psalm 67:1-5 and Genesis 12:1-4

“Take, eat; this is my body which is given to you. Do this in remembrance of me.”

“Do this as often as you drink it, in remembrance of me.”

These words in our traditional communion liturgy connect the Last Supper of Jesus to our communion table here today, to every communion table around the world today, to every communion table in history, to every communion table in the future, AND to every table we sit at to eat.

They extend even further. The extend to the tables that are empty of food, and to the people who lack tables, and those who have neither. The words connect as well to our siblings in faith around the world who are displaced from their homes – migrants, assylum seekers, and those who have been evicted. It can boggle the mind, the ways the Table of God connects us!

The words of Jesus, at the Last Supper as recorded in the Synoptic Gospels tell us to remember every time we eat and every time we drink. The communion liturgy just reminds us of that. Every time, we are to remember that we are God’s. Every time, we are to remember that’s God’s love is steadfast. Every time we are to remember that we are blessed by God to be a blessing for the whole world. Every time we are to remember that Jesus remembered God’s mighty acts of salvation – at the Passover – and added to them the reminders that we are capable of continuing his ministry as the living Body of Christ.

Every time we eat. Every time we drink.

We remember.

We’re called back to our purpose: we’ve been sent out to share love.

We’ve been sent out to continue the work of Jesus, of calling people back to God, and God’s vision of abundance for everyone. To the work of community, of relationship, of listening, of learning, of love.

And today we remember those who have plenty and those who have nothing. Those who are at peace and those who can’t find any peace. Those who are afraid and those who are filled with joy. God’s table is for all.

In Genesis Abraham is blessed by God, or so our stories go. Today’s little passage makes sense of it. His blessing is that he gets to be a blessing for the world. It isn’t for him. Blessings aren’t meant for just one, they’re for sharing. Eventually it came to be known that the ancient Israelites, too, were blessed. They too were blessed to be a blessing for the whole world.

The World Communion Table is, at first, just the communion table set and celebrated in many churches on the same day. But it is so much more than that too. It breaks down the barriers in our faith, it connects us, and it reminds us that we, too, are blessed to be a blessing. Not to hold on to anything God gives us, but to share it widely.

And so, today, we unite our table with many others around the world, and then we extend our table from the one in this room to the ones in the Fellowship Hall. And hopefully at supper time we remember that the tables have stretched just a little bit further to our own homes. And tomorrow at breakfast we can think about some loved ones we’ve shared meals with and pray for them and their tables. We’ll try to understand the immensity of God’s love, and the multitude of ways God seeks to feed God’s people. So that when we sit to eat, we remember.

And we’re grateful.

To be blessed.

To be blessings.

To be connected.

And now we move towards God’s table, to start this journey again. Thanks be to God who uses food and drink to remind us of what we need to know most. Amen

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

October 1, 2023

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September 24, 2023
by Sara Baron

“Grieving Jesus” based on 2 Samuel 1:17-27 and John 16:16-22

This week I found myself in multiple conversations about “the day the church died.” That was February 26, 2019, and the following day the Love Your Neighbor Coalition held a worship service that was a funeral for The United Methodist Church.

Now, let’s assume that if I found myself in multiple conversations about this, I may have been the one bringing it up – although I’m not actually sure that’s the only truth. But we can go with it. It has led me to wonder why: why, 4 ½ years later, this is coming up.

However, some of you may be lucky enough not to know what I’m talking about, and I don’t like leaving people in the dark. In 1968 The United Methodist Church was born when the Methodist Church and the Evangelical United Brethren Church merged. Both churches had powerful histories with social creeds, and at the birth of the church a study commission was created to write a new set of “Social Principals” to guide the newly formed church. The study commission brought its recommendations to the 1972 General Conference. They did a nice job. They included in their recommendation, in a piece about human sexuality, “Persons of homosexual orientation are persons of sacred worth.”

Now, that phrase isn’t exactly a bombshell, right? I mean, DUH, “Persons of homosexual orientation are persons of sacred worth.” But when I think about the Queer and Trans justice movements in the USA, the 1972 church study commission offering the words “Persons of homosexual orientation are persons of sacred worth” was a good start.

Today we’re talking about grief – because the scriptures handed us those topics on a platter – and when I think about the church’s failures to LGBTQIA+ people, my grief starts escalating at this point in our history. With those decent words “Persons of homosexual orientation are persons of sacred worth.” on the table in front them, along with A WHOLE LOT OF other words about a WHOLE LOT of other topics, some people decided that those words were too strong and required caveats. Terrible ones. So they changed it, and eventually the 1972 Book of Discipline would read “Persons of homosexual orientation are persons of sacred worth. We do not condone the practice of homosexuality and consider it incompatible with Christian teaching.” They also added, "We do not recommend marriage between two persons of the same sex,” although I think the greater gut punch was in the first addition.

People of good faith in The United Methodist Church have been trying to remove those words ever since. While there were setbacks along the way, for a while there also seemed to be movement towards inclusion of all of God’s people. The people committed to exclusion seemed to be losing the battle, until they weren’t. By 2016 it was clear that the movements for inclusion had reached a series of dead-ends: General Conference was not going to change the church’s stance, the Judicial Council was going to uphold it, the Bishops en mass were not going to stand against it, and the capacity to fight things on localized levels was extremely limited. Based work in the first week of General Conference, it was clear that The UMC was about to enact a series of changes that would decimate its LGBTQIA+ community, one that was already experiencing a spiritual and literal bloodbath.

Good students of nonviolent social action know that when all the other avenues are closed to you, you raise the temperature in the room, in hopes of motivating change. Good students of nonviolent social action were in that room, organizing. The United Methodist Church was about to face two horrible options: mass arrests of nonviolent protesters, or protesters shutting down the floor of General Conference preventing their work from being completed. (I’m so thankful for good organizers, aren’t you?)

The Church choose a third option. They created another study commission (I’m barely refraining from extensive commentary on study commissions and the church) “The Commission on a Way Forward” that was to bring to a SPECIAL SESSION of General Conference – 2019 – a way forward that would …. well, let’s be honest… they wanted a way forward that would keep Queer and Trans people and their allies form making the church look bad while appeasing the conservatives. But, at that point, ANYTHING looked better than where we were headed, and forcing some new thinking on the topic felt like a victory.

When 2019 came the “Way Forward Commission” put forward a very milquetoast proposal “The One Church Plan”, the Queer Clergy Caucus put forward a truly excellent proposal called “The Simple Plan,” and the conservatives put forward a scare tactic they called “The Traditional Plan.” Confession time: I didn’t think the Simple Plan (which was hands down the best plan) could win, so I put my energy on to passing The One Church Plan which was a horrible compromise that I justified as being a step forward we could pass. Turns out I was wrong all over the place, and we couldn’t pass it – AND the support for the Simple Plan was almost exactly as high as The One Church Plan. Turns out, the votes went to The Traditional Plan which was simply so horrendous it didn’t seem possible it could ever happen. It felt like a caricature of itself, like what a satire magazine would produce as a conservative think-piece.

When it passed, the denomination lost any remaining integrity, and any claim on Godliness. As a clergy person I have made commitments not only to God but also to THIS denomination. I’d experienced the Divine through the UMC, I loved it, I wanted to make it better, and I wanted to work in it to make the world the kindom of God. On that day, I no longer saw a connection between God and the church.

Now, it always needs to be said, I wasn’t the primary one harmed by The Traditional Plan. It set out to harm Queer and Trans people, and it did. Any damage to me, and others who know a God Who Celebrates Diversity, was mere icing on the cake. And yet, to be in a denomination that does harm like that ON PURPOSE, wrecked me. It was some of the strongest grief I’ve ever experienced.

And maybe this week proved, it still is. The unfortunate reality is that while many of us were grieving The United Methodist Church, things were also really hard around here in this local church, and things were pretty bad in the USA and sometimes the world, and the grief probably didn’t get the time or space it needed. And then there was COVID, and the time to grieve simply dissipated. That’s actually my working theory on why this is coming up again – the grip of COVID has finally lowered enough that there is space for the stuff we were working on before it started.

You’ve heard me reflect on a really non-traditional grief so far today. We most often think of grief as relating to the loss of a person, and I think we make the most space for that kind of grief. But we miss a lot when we limit it that way. The Dictionary of Pastoral Care and Counseling says grief is “The complex interaction of affective, cognitive, physiological, and behavioral responses to the loss by any means of a person, place, thing, activity, status, bodily organ, etc., with whom (or which) a person has identified, who (or which) has become a significant part of an individual’s own self.”1 (emphasis mine)

So to keep going with this truly uplifting sermon 😉 I want to talk about some significant communal grief that I have seen in our community. It may be that some of us don’t feel some of these, but I think all of them are in us together. And, because I think there is some power in it, we’re going to try this as a liturgy, after I say each piece, I invite you to respond, “Holy One, help us hold our grief.”

For the ones we have known, and loved, and lost – Holy One, help us hold our grief.
For the ones we thought we had time to get to know and love – and lost – Holy One, help us hold our grief.
For the church that we thought would become open to people of all ages, nations, races, genders, and sexualities – Holy One, help us hold our grief.
For the community that we hoped would welcome vulnerable immigrants with open arms – – Holy One, help us hold our grief.
For the nation that we thought would prioritize the vulnerable – Holy One, help us hold our grief.
For the world that we thought would work more on climate change than on enriching the already rich – Holy One, help us hold our grief.
For this local church that we hoped could be free from the anxiety in each of us and around all of us – Holy One, help us hold our grief.
For the people and places we trusted, who ended up having different values that we do, and it felt like betrayal – Holy One, help us hold our grief.
For who we thought we’d be, but we aren’t – Holy One, help us hold our grief.

Amen

If we take that definition of grief seriously, then grief is the response to the loss of something a person identifies with. It is a loss of a part of ourselves. In some of what we said above, I think it is the loss of hope. That’s a really serious loss, one that may characterize our age.

The work of grief is the slow work of creating new identity in a new reality. Where one might have identified as a spouse, one now has to figure out what it means to be a widow or widower. Where one might have identified with a strength, now there is a need to identify with a weakness. Where one might have chosen hope, one now there is a need to identify with the experience of hopelessness.

It is clear why grief takes a while, and why the more strongly one identifies with someone or something, the longer it takes to form a new identity, and why one might not want to!

I’m really struck in the gospel by the idea that the disciples started grieving the eventual loss of Jesus while he was still with them. I’m annoyed by it. I want it to be untrue. But I think that probably was the case. The disciples probably could see where Jesus’s ministry was heading, and while they may have been in denial about it, it was still there pressing on them. Even during the life and ministry of Jesus there was grief pushing around the edges that they were going to lose him. I can’t think of much more of a human reality than that one.

The reading from 2 Samuel is almost too much to hold. The depth of David’s grief feels so vulnerable that my instinct is to look away because I don’t know him well enough to be privy to it. That said, it is written in Bible, and you might not have heard it, so let me summarize. David is grieving Saul who was his king and adversary (#complicated) and Saul’s son Jonathan who was at least his best friend and probably lover (#alsocomplicated).

Don’t go around sharing that the mighty have fallen –

I don’t want our enemies to rejoice at this heartbreak.

Let those who failed to support Saul struggle, as payback.

Saul and Jonathan weren’t weak, don’t say they were weak, they brought others down with them.

They were together in life, and they are together in death.

Women, weep – these were the ones who took care of you.

My love has been killed, and I grieve.

He was my delight, his love gave me life.

The mighty have fallen, and I grieve.

My word for you today is an odd one. Traditionally speaking, I should turn this sermon around and end on an up-note, but that feels trite. I can say that the things we grieve are most commonly things we loved, and the grief is a reflection of that love. That’s good. But really, my point today is this: grief is imperative and hard work. There is no way through it except through it. It doesn’t go away because we don’t like it, or we deny it, or we can’t handle it. Like many things based in our bodies or emotions, either we make space to grieve or grieve will make space in us to come out – usually in ways we’ll hate.

And yet, God is with us. God is with us, holding us when we grieve. We are not alone, even when we feel the most alone. We are not lost to God, even when we don’t know who we are anymore. For me, that’s good news. In fact, it is enough. Thanks be to God who holds us when we grieve. Amen

1Rodney J. Hunter, general editor, Dictionary of Pastoral Care and Counseling (Abington Press: Nashville, 1990), page 472.

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

September 24, 2023

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Untitled

September 17, 2023
by Sara Baron

“Our Prayer” based on Psalm 71:1-6, Matthew 6:9-13

In June, after we celebrated the life of Walter Grattidge, I was walking through the sanctuary with the intention of putting my microphone away. Three people were in the sanctuary, seemingly admiring the stained glass, which was a little unusual because Dottie Gallo’s cooking creations were available at that time in Fellowship Hall.

I believe I said something incredibly profound, like “I’m putting my mic away, but while I’m here, can I help you with anything?” The answer was unexpected.

The three people turned out to be a mother, a daughter, and the daughter’s husband. The mother was raised in this church, and was a teenager in the 1940s when Rev. Dr. Lee Adkins Sr. was pastor here. I’ve heard wonderful things about the ministry of Rev. Dr. Adkins Sr., but the story she told was the best one yet:

She was a curious and thoughtful young person, and she struggled with the stories she heard in Sunday School and how she was taught to interpret them. In her frustration, she went to Rev. Adkins to ask him some pointed questions. (Already, I’m loving this story – right? She’s feisty, she’s good at Biblical interpretation, and she has access to the Sr. Pastor as she should.)

She named her concerns, and in response he ask her to listen to a story. His story was this:

When he was a young man he was struggling to decide what to do with his life. One day, he was hiking, and when he got to the top of a mountain, and the sky opened up before him, he saw written in the clouds “Preach,” and he knew his life’s work.

He then told her to go home, think about his story, and come back in a week or two and explain it to him. She did. She thought long and hard about it. When she returned she said to him, “I do not believe that the clouds actually said ‘preach.’ I think you were moved by the beauty and sense of awe around you, and you found within yourself clarity on your life’s work, and the best way you can communicate that is to say that the clouds spelled out ‘preach.’”

Now -get this – this is my favorite part. He said, “OK, go home and think about it for another week or two and come back again.” Now, she said that she was really wanting to give the “right” answer and it was quite distressing to be sent away to try again. But she did, and when she came back said to him, “I stand by my answer.” And he smiled and said, “good.”

He affirmed her capacity to think, to interpret, to use her reason, and in doing so gave her ways to approach the Bible and the world.

She said that she was taking her family on a tour of her life, and they were in Schenectady so she could show them the church. (They live in Western Canada I think.) The following day we were having our combined Pride services, and they’d known about that and just walked by hoping to get in. Her family had left Schenectady soon after the story she told me, her father’s job changed. But for her that conversation with her pastor opened up the world. She is now a great-grandmother, and she talked about being formed by that permission to be curious and reasonable, and how in her family there are now 4 generations of people who are who they are because she was given permission to THINK about her faith by her pastor.

I’ve been holding this story (not perfectly, sometimes it slips out because it is so good), but holding it for preaching for this day. Because when we think about Homecoming and what it means to come home to this church, I think that story has some pretty central themes about who this church has been and who this church is.

This is a place where faith and reason are welcome together. This is a place where curiosity is welcome. This is a place where people know that the Bible’s truths are often shared in metaphor. This is a place that seeks to form people with permission giving, rather than limitations.

Which gets me to a second central piece of how I know you, First Schenectady United Methodist Church. Some years ago now when asking parents about what color blanket they wanted for their baby’s baptism, their response was “We’d like a rainbow blanket, because we want our child to know they will be loved as whoever they are.” I completely copied them when it was my turn 😉

One of the many joys of being the pastor here has been the chance to get to know people who were raised in this church as I have worked with them to prepare the Celebrations of Life for their parents. I know of any stories of the church’s children of the 20th century being wrapped in rainbow. However, as I’ve gotten to know those who were raised in the church, I’ve been astounded to find some deep similarities.

The men who were raised in this church are unusually kind, considerate, empathetic, gentle, and thoughtful. The women who were raised in this church are usually self-assured and able to be appropriately assertive. Let’s be honest, those things both break gendered stereotypes, but fit the fullness of the human experience. This church raised people with the space to be the best and most authentic version of who they were, and made space and capacity to reject the norms of society that put people into boxes.

I was able to put my finger on what was so extraordinary several years ago now, and it has been really fun to see my theory confirmed over and over again since.

Dear ones, the impact of this church in the world is HUGE – even if all we count is how the people raised in this church were given the love, space, and capacity to become fully themselves. This church has been a counter-cultural force for good for a VERY LONG TIME.

This church has been doing God’s work for a long time.

Thank God.

And thank you.

I have been reminded this week of how beautiful and delightful this world really is. And it is beautiful even while it is broken. The beautiful and the broken are simply both true.

As people of faith, we are given the great gift of being reflective about how we respond to the world. So much of what we do together is reflecting on what is good, what is God, and how we can respond. We have the chance to think about, and practice, centering down with God, centering down to relationships, centering down to simply enjoy the goodness of life – and then using the energy we have gathered in the centering down to seek justice for God’s people. Isn’t that a wonderful thing to get to do??

The Lord’s Prayer is full of layers of meaning, has been examined with rich study, and there are translations of it that make my heart stir. We can’t get into most of that in an even vaguely reasonable time frame, so I just want to focus today on the last line in our reading, “and do not bring us to the time of trial, but rescue us from that which is evil.” The rescue is sometimes deliverance, and deliverance is interesting in the Bible because it is the original meaning of salvation. As Dr. Gafney says, “Salvation in the Hebrew Bible is physical and material deliverance or rescue of an individual or community from enemies.”1

The rescue that we need, the deliverance that we need, changes with time, changes with the communities we live in, changes with our own needs. But the reason this prayer still resonates all these years later in all kinds of different places is that a need for rescue is a pretty common human experience.

Yolanda Norton translates that line as “separate us from the temptation of empire and deliver us into community.”2

Thank God that God HAS delivered us, into community, into THIS community, beautiful and broken as this one is, it helps us be a part of rescuing the world. Thank God. Amen

1Wilda Gafney, A Women’s Lectionary for the Whole Church (New York, NY: Church Publishing, 2021), 284.

2Gafney, 285

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

September 17, 2023