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August 6, 2023
by Sara Baron

“Destruction and Peace” 1 Samuel 15:1-3, 8, 10-17, 24-25 and Psalm 146

This church is blessed with a deep commitment to learning and growing. We all come with our own background and experiences. Some of which involve degrees in religion, theology, or divinity. Some of which involves running for dear life from church and everything like it for most of a life, and not being as well read. Which is to say, wherever you might be, that’s fine! Nerds are welcome here, and … non-nerds? Is that what they’re called?

So, anyway, this church that loves to learn has been lucky enough to have the Carl Lecture fund which allow the church bring in speakers to help us learn more. The most recent Carl Lecturer was Bishop Karen Oliveto in May, and that was a delight. In 2017 ago John Dominic Crossan lectured here, and like Bishop Karen I’m still fan-girl-ing over it.

A few things “Dom” said that weekend have reframed the Bible for me, and quite often when I read a text I’m struck again by the truth of it all. The biggest reframing was in thinking of the Bible as containing two streams of thought.

They are often intertwined, they are both holistic, and they are both prevalent throughout the Bible. One of them he called the covenant stream and characterized as being a punishment/reward system. In that stream the people were told what to do, rewarded if they did it, punished if they did not, and judged by their obedience.

The other he called the stream of distributive justice and it begins in the Bible with the distribution of rest called Sabbath and continues to be concerned with the fair distribution of the things people need so they can live full and abundant lives.

Both streams are found throughout the Hebrew Bible, both are found throughout the Christian Testament, and most people of faith focus on one of them and find the other to be of less value. John Dominic Crossan himself prefers the sabbath and distributive justice stream and finds within it the description of the God he knows. Turns out me too.

Today we got a text from each stream, and one of them is pretty distressing, at least to me. In 1 Samuel God tells the people to destroy one of their enemies in a “holy war” which means the complete and utter destruction of every living thing in their village. Our translator makes this horrifically clear by saying “do not spare them and put them to death from woman to man, and from infant to nursing baby, and from ox to sheep, from camel to donkey.”

This. Is. Horrific.

I want to puke.

Then, it turns out, they only killed MOST of the living things, but kept the leader alive and some of the livestock claiming they wanted to sacrifice the livestock to God. And this story, in our Bible, says that God was REALLY REALLY mad about this because when God says “kill them all” you are supposed to “kill them ALL” and not most, and this is used as a reason that Saul is replaced as the king of Israel.

ARGH. I’m going to give us just another moment to be horrified by this, and then I’m going to soften these blows a little bit. Ready?

There are a few things to bring into reading this text. The first, which may well help, is that it is probably not historically true. This is a story that would have been told for a long time and written down well after the fact and in other cases where we read about destruction like this and are able to verify it – the destruction never happened. The second piece is that 1 and 2 Samuel are super pro-David propaganda and this story seems created to establish David’s authority by diminishing Saul’s, which is another reason to inherently distrust it. The third, and final, softening on reading this text is the reminder that the Hebrew Bible as we know it was written down in the aftermath of the Exile when people had experienced unprecedented death, destruction, trauma, and horror. The primary question of the people as they were writing down these stories was “why did this happen to us?” And this story seems designed to answer “this happened to us because we were unfaithful and God punished us.”

A whole lot of people believe that bad things happen because God punishes them. I would say most of those people were raised in the “covenant stream” of reward and punishment – and may not even be aware there are other options. And, indeed, this story fits fully into that stream. God expects obedience, punishes disobedience, there is nothing anyone can do about it – not even the prophet Samuel.

So, if you haven’t noticed yet, I pretty much hate this text. But, if this text reflects about half of the Biblical tradition, I am probably better off acknowledging it exists and dealing with it than just wishing it away, right? I appreciated Dr. Gafney’s reflection on this text that it “illustrates the difficulty in teasing out the human and the divine in scriptures.” TRUE THAT. I also appreciated her reminder that the ways we see power and authority function in the world impact how we think about the power and authority of God. In places where there is a monarchy, it is particularly easy to think of God as a monarch, and to think of hierarchy as normal and appropriate. The Bible was written during a whole lot of monarchies and hierarchical systems, and it makes sense that that humanness would invade the perspective of the text.

We also have today a text from the other stream – the one about distributive justice. And it is a breath of fresh air. I also appreciate that within it I can hear regular and repeated themes of the Bible, because this too is Biblical and deeply rooted. Those who would claim that God is all about punishment and rewards may have a hard time making sense of texts like this one.

The Psalm starts out seeming a bit simple. Someone is praising God. If you’ve read the Psalms you might be tempted to say “what else is new?” It then moves on to establishing that God is worthy of trust in a way that people are not. And then it talks about WHY God is trust worthy and worthy of praise and the source of hope and joy. The reasons are pretty standard order too: because God created all that is, because God is a God of justice who brings justice to the oppressed, because God is the one who feeds the hungry, because God is compassionate and sets prisoners free, because God helps people see, and lifts up those who are bowed down, and loves when good things are being done, and cares for the stranger, and takes care of the vulnerable orphans and widows, and confuses and confounds those who would do harm.

Nothing new there, those are repeated themes in the Bible. But note that they are universal. God isn’t just caring about those in covenant relationship with God, God is caring about everyone. God is inverting the social order and taking care of those with the least capacity to take care of themselves. Which means that the normal social order isn’t as God would have it be, and THAT would mean that those doing well aren’t being rewarded and those doing poorly aren’t being punished. Instead both of those reflect a need for more JUST distribution and God is working on making that happen.

Now, as I mentioned, I have a STRONG preference for one of these streams of thoughts and ways of understanding God. I’d go so far as to say I think one is “right” and the other is “wrong” or as close as I’m willing to get to using words like that about God.

But, dear ones, I think the best news is the reminder that these two streams of thought, these two fundamentally different worldviews, are hanging out together in the Bible. Neither dominates the other. Sometimes, they intertwine so well we can’t tease them apart. They are in there together, coexisting for about 3000 years now.

(Here is the twist, it feels like it may come out of no where, but I’ve been building this whole time.)

And, beloveds of God, if these two different streams of thought have coexisted in the Bible for this long, and fed various people of faith, and been experienced as holy, and sometimes even supported each other – then I’m pretty sure we can survive the next US election.

I adore that the Bible feels free to contradict itself with different versions of the same story and even different basic conceptions of who God is and how God is. I love that there is space for the fullness of humanity and the fullness of the divine, and I actually love that teasing out which is which is so hard. Because it deserves to be hard. And we learn while we try. And our disagreements usually teach us a lot we need to know.

John Wesley famously said, if your heart is with my heart, give me your hand. May we be people whose hearts are with others’ hearts, even if we disagree. May we be people of peace.

Amen

August 6, 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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February 5, 2023
by Sara Baron

“Welcoming…Enemies?” based on Isaiah 16:1-5

The Bible doesn’t have a lot of nice things to say about the Moabites. It does suggest that the Moabites were cousins of sorts of the Israelites, claiming that their patriarch was Lot, the son of Abraham. However, if you remember that story, the basic suggestion is that Lot’s line lived on because his daughter got him drunk and got pregnant off of him, which is not the sort of origin story one tells about a group of people you like.

To quote the Encyclopedia Britannica “The Moabite language differed only dialectally from Hebrew, and Moabite religion and culture were very closely related to those of the Israelites. Nevertheless, Moabites were excluded from the Jewish community (Deuteronomy 23:3–6), where the name Moab became a typical denomination for the enemies of God (Isaiah 25:10).”1

Right, so the Moabites were sort of the old-school version of the Samaritans – close cousins, deeply hated, enough so that Moabite was the synonym for enemy.

And into that reality comes the Isaiah reading today. We’ve been working from “A Women’s Lectionary for the Whole Church,” and translated Dr. Wilda Gafney makes an intentional choice to translate Zion and Jerusalem in the feminine (as they are in Hebrew). To make clear to the English speaker the constancy of the feminine, she “reproduces ‘daughter in places where English masks the frequency of the feminine address.”2 That has resulted in a lot of “daughters” in our recent readings, which may – in this case – create some confusion for those who heard the text today. So, let me clarify. In the New Revised Standard Version of this Isaiah passage, the translators tell “daughter Zion” to care for the “daughters of Moab.”

As Dr. Gafney says, ‘God calls on her daughter, Zion, Jerusalem to welcome her Moabite sisters in their time of need. Israel’s relationship with her border states was perpetually tumultuous even with shared ties… Often in the Hebrew Scriptures foreign women are treated as prospective danger, irresistible to Israelite men through sexual wiles, leading to Israelite men straying from their God. But in Isaiah 16, God calls on Israel to care for these vulnerable women.“3

The Bible has pretty much nothing nice to say about the Moabites, but when they are struggling and in danger, the people are told to shelter them, really, to save them. That’s so far beyond "love your enemies so God will judge and drop heaping coals on their heads” (thanks Paul) and sounds more like “love your enemies because they’re beloved of God too, and worthy humans at that.” These were the people the Israelites were at war with, more often than not. And they’re told to welcome them, shelter them, and keep them safe.

There is, you may remember, another place where the Bible has something rather nice to say about the Moabites, which is that Ruth was one and she was pretty great. This is a thing I love about the Bible. It is unable to sit tight with violence and hatred, it just can’t keep God’s love from seeping in, even with the ones it struggles with the most. As anyone who has ever attempted to explain the Good Samaritan parable knows, you have start with explaining the enmity between the Israelites and the Samaritans to get to the point of the Samaritan being the hero. Or, after the HORRIBLE defeat of Jerusalem by Babylon, the exiles are told to seek the good of the city of Babylon.

The Bible doesn’t make peace with hatred. There is always light shining through. As much as the people struggle with each other, God’s love for all can’t ever be extinguished. And, truly, I think the people tried. Their own grief, fear, and anger created enormous blinders to the humanity of the outsiders, the enemies. But, God’s work to transform it is ALSO always there, and nudging away the blinders to see the beloveds of God underneath.

Now, I believe the commandment by Jesus to “love our enemies and pray for those who persecute you” is well known. But I think maybe we don’t spend enough time talking about the skill sets necessary to do so. This week I picked up a book by my favorite seminary professor, Andrew Dreitcer. The book is entitled, “Living Compassionately: Loving Like Jesus” and in the introduction I found myself remembering why he was my favorite professor. He talked about his own struggles with loving his enemies, and trying SO SO HARD to love people, only to discover that telling himself he should wasn’t the same as actually doing so. He said, “The constant efforts to manufacture acts of love because my faith demands it – even when I don’t feel loving – may lead me to a sense of guilty inadequacy, or a sense of failure, or ultimately to burnout.”4 The HONESTY of that was such a relief.

But, he also didn’t leave it there. He acknowledged it, and then came around to, “The heart of the Christian path of love – radical compassion- can be taught.”5 Then he spends the rest of the book teaching it.

In recent years, one of the most common questions I’ve been asked has been about how to remain connected to people on the other side of the political spectrum. This is a WONDERFUL question. This is a loving question. This is also a REAL question. We may know that politics are just politics, and that outsiders are trying to divide us, and that people matter more than their stances on some issues, but at the same time the mostly deeply held beliefs we have about what the world looks like and what it should look like are often in contrast to what people believe on the “other side” of that spectrum. And in cases of the violation of our most dearly held values and beliefs, it is truly a challenge to find shared humanity.

So, I’ve really appreciated that people acknowledge how hard it is and try to do it anyway. And I’ve offered some answers and suggestions to those who have asked, potentially even something vaguely helpful if I’m lucky. I’ve suggested listening for other people’s values and digging in deep until the similarities of desires can be found – even if the solutions on top of them aren’t shared. I have suggested acknowledging that others are struggling and make space for that struggle, particularly for the fear that is so prevalent in our society.

But between this Isaiah passage about sheltering one’s enemies and the book on compassion, my answers sound weak to my own ears. I wish now I had started by offering people compassion for the struggle they brought to me, and in doing so modeled the compassion that I think we need for such work. Dr. Dreitcer reminded me that from my own faith position, compassion flows three ways between God, other, and self, and that when we are struggling to offer compassion to another, we may first need to make space to experience God’s compassion for us, and/or to have compassion for ourselves first. We can’t browbeat compassion out of ourselves, or pick it up from bootstraps. And then, I wish I had reminded myself and others that by offering vulnerability we make space for the sort of intimacy we want with others. If the goal is to remain in contact with people we care about, then there are skill sets for that too.

Now, I suspect you’d like the easy fix on how to be more compassionate, and I sort of want to give it to you, but it isn’t an easy fix. It is the stuff of long regular practice, of starts and stops, of learning by doing, of taking time for what matters. It is the stuff of good spiritual practice. Dr. Dreitcer recommends intentional spiritual practices focused on intention, attention, awareness, intimacy, imagination, and feelings. (Yeah, just that!) I offer that we are blessed with new committees working on relationships and on spiritual formation, and the work of the groups will continue to offer to all of us the means of developing our compassion so that the actual practice of loving our enemies, or maybe just those who really exhaust us.

I think this is all good news. That God doesn’t want us to stay in enmity with others, and that there are ACTUAL ways to build compassion so we don’t have to just feel guilty when we aren’t as loving as we want. It is all good news. And we can work on it together. And it is good to be a faith community where that’s part of what we’re trying to do together. We are in this together. May God help us along our way. Amen

1 https://www.britannica.com/topic/Moabite

2 Wilda Gafney, A Women’s Lectionary for the Whole Church (New York, NY: Church Publishing, 2021), p. 50.

3Gafney, 53.

4Andrew Dreitcer, Living Compassionately: Loving Like Jesus (Nashville: Upper Room Books, 2017), 12.

5Dreitcer, 13.

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

February 5, 2023

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January 8, 2023
by Sara Baron

“Radical Experience of Acceptance” based on Isaiah 60:1-6 and Matthew 2:1-12

I have a very clear recollection of the first time I paid attention to the words of Bobby McFerrin’s arrangement of the 23rd Psalm. I’d heard it before, but I hadn’t LISTENED before. There was a church choir concert in Hollywood, the church I interned at was hosting, and one of the choirs sang it.

I was in seminary. I was reasonably familiar with the 23rd Psalm. I had expectations of what words I would hear. And then what I did hear was: “The Lord is my Shepherd, I have all I need. She makes me lie down in green meadows Beside the still waters, She will lead”1 All my breath left me, and I found tears rolling down my cheeks.

I went to a progressive seminary. I’d been led by intentional and caring clergy for years. I knew, and used inclusive language for God. I’d heard it used. I knew that the Holy Spirit was feminine in Greek. I knew God wasn’t male. I knew I was made in the image of God.

And.

And in that moment in a new and profound way, I felt included as a child of God. This overly common imagery of God as a shepherd translated from a distinctly male image with male pronouns to a distinctly female image with female pronouns mattered to me, to the deepest parts of my being. This is related, I think, to music touching a different part of our beings than logic and rational though. When that choir sang “she makes me lie down in green pastures” I felt safe and welcome, cared for and most significantly of all, I FELT the reality that I could be a reflection of God as a woman. To hear the metaphor of God as female in that song healed me a little bit. EVEN THOUGH I’d already “known” all of that.

Probably because there is a difference between knowing (head) and knowing (body and spirit).

As I read these epiphany scriptures this week I found myself cringing a little bit at the repetition of “daughter.” It felt like too much. I wanted to soften it, take it back, make it quieter. It felt like maybe it would exclude those who aren’t female.

But, I read the textual notes, and Dr. Gafney wrote in them, “Isaiah 60 speaks to a female entity, Zion, Jerusalem, frequently styled as God’s daughter; each “you” and “your” is explicitly feminine and singular, rhythmic and repetitive in Hebrew. I have added “daughter” each place this occurs for the English speaker-reader-hearer.”2 So, it is truly there, and what is odd is to hear it explicitly in English, “Arise, daughter; shine, daughter; for your light has come, daughter, and the glory of the Holy One has risen upon you, daughter.” (Isaiah 60:1)3

So, instead of softening the language, I’ve sat with it. What I’veheard is that when God reveals God’s self to us (“epiphany” which is the name of the Sunday we’re celebrating) it often has to do with a radical experience of acceptance – and quite often a radical experience of acceptance when we were expecting rejection.

This is where we are gifted with a lot of wonderful power as a church. We are the people who can use they/them pronouns for God, and let people who are non-binary that we see God in them and them in God. What a gift to be able to give!

I have often reflected with awe at the impact of this church on those who were raised in it. In the process of preparing celebrations of life for church members, I get to know their families, and I am often struck by how this church has gifted the world with men who are free to be tender and compassionate and women who are free to be strong and clear, and visa versa, and more so. This has been for a long time a place where gendered expectations are put away and space is made for the fullness of God’s gifts in each person to emerge. What an incredible legacy this church has!

I have heard stories from many of you about your process of finding your way here, and the radical experience of acceptance that kept you here. One story involves sitting in a car in the parking lot and wondering if this church would really have enough love for the one waiting to enter. (You did.) One story involves looking for a long time for a church that could welcome two people with very different needs, and the powerful relief that came when it was offered. You did that too. A lot of stories involve a positive experience of faith in childhood, a developing sense of scientific knowledge and logic, and the wonder of finding a place where faith and knowledge can be held together in peace. Many stories involve a yearning for a community, and a struggle to find one who knows God well enough to know how big God’s love is. (This actually saddens me. I wish every church knew the expansive and epic extent of God’s love.)

Thanks be to God, that for many people, this is a place of epiphanies. This is a place where God reveals God’s self. This is a place where people experience radical acceptance, and that changes EVERYTHING.

Arise, daughter; shine, daughter; for your light has come, daughter, and the glory of the Holy One has risen upon you, daughter.

AND

Arise, son; shine, son; for your light has come, son, and the glory of the Holy One has risen upon you, son.

AND

Arise, child-of-mine; shine, child-of-mine for your light has come, child-of-mine, and the glory of the Holy One has risen upon you, child-of-mine.

God speaks to all of you, to all of us.

It strikes me as sort of funny that this story from Matthew is the one that gets called the story of the Epiphany. Of all of the revelations of God in the scriptures, this doesn’t seem like the most notable. Most of the story is about the sages from the East talking to Herod, which I’m quite confident was NOT a strong God-moment. I will give it to them though, the story is courageous. Asking the King of Judea about the one born TO BE King of Judea is not usually a good choice. But, it is the one presented here.

The story says that they had a God-filled experience in following the star, an even stronger one in meeting “the child with Mary his mother” and an additional one in a dream that warned them about Herod. So there ARE three epiphanies in this story, but what is the Bible if not stories of the revelations of God’s love?

It seems to me there are some profound reflective questions gifted to us by these texts:

When have you had a radical experience of acceptance? What was it like? Why did you need it? Is it share-able?
When can you/we offer radical experiences of acceptance? Where is it needed? How can we do it?

I’m encouraged to note that it isn’t always a heavy lift to do this work. Hearing a beautiful song can be a radical experience of acceptance. Seeing the progress pride flag in out hallway has been for many a radical experience of acceptance. Using a variety of pronouns for God and God’s people can be a radical experience of acceptance. Making space for someone to be sad or mad can be a radical experience of acceptance. The reminder that it can be little things that offer radical experiences of acceptance lightens the load a little bit.

Because I believe we are called to radically accept, and love, and celebrate God’s gifts in all of God’s people. We are called BY our epiphanies to be people who offer space FOR epiphanies. We are ourselves radically loved by God, and we are able to offer God’s abundant love to others.

Thanks be to God! Amen

1 Lyrics here: https://genius.com/Bobby-mcferrin-the-23rd-psalm-dedicated-to-my-mother-lyrics, has a link to recording too.

2 Wilda C. Gafney, A Women’s Lectionary for the Whole Church (New York: Church Publishing Incorporated, 2021), 35.

3 Dr. Gafney’s translation, page 33.

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 8, 2023

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“Joy” based on Luke 1:46-56

December 11, 2022
by Sara Baron

Some of you weren’t here last
week, and quite likely most of you have been through enough this week
that the nuances of last week’s sermon are no longer front and
center. (Most? All? It’s OK.)

Last week we lit the Advent
Candle of Love, and we looked at the example of Elizabeth’s loving
words to her young cousin Mary. Mary was engaged, pregnant, and
vulnerable. Her pregnancy looked like proof of infidelity,
everything in her life was likely in an uproar, and her cousin
greeted her with words that changed everything. They celebrated
Mary, they exclaimed over Mary, they reframed Mary’s shame, and
painted her instead as a a person committed to God’s faithful acts in
the world – even at high cost. The words showed that Elizabeth saw
her, loved her, and helped her let go of her fear and her shame.

Truth be told though, the Luke
reading cut off right in the middle of the scene last week.
Elizabeth greets Mary – and it was extraordinary. BUT, the next
lines are Mary’s response to Elizabeth, and they make a lot of sense
to read together as one conversation.

After Elizabeth wiped away
Mary’s shame and made room for love, Mary responded with her words of
praise for God, ones that are so famous they’re named. Mary’s words
are “The Magnificat,” called so for the opening line about
magnifying the Holy One.

Now, most scholars agree that
Luke 1 is a creation of the early Christian community, maybe even of
the author of Luke itself. What I find really remarkable about that
is that Luke has so much compassion for these women, and such a
strong sense of what they would be going through. It gives me hope
that there were strong women’s voices within the Christian community
at that time, that the equalitarian nature of the Way of Jesus
continued long enough that women’s voices were actually being heard
in the ways these stories were told. Or, maybe, Luke was simply an
outstandingly compassionate human, able to see beyond the bounds of
his own education and gender. Either option is really lovely, and
I’m really grateful for the ways these stories are told, so that
there is INCREDIBLE truth and wisdom in them. Luke and/or his
community, and his later editors cared about Mary and Elizabeth, not
just as wombs, but as humans with their own struggles and needs.

Thanks be to God for these
stories.

And, truly, thanks be to God for
the ones who thought enough about Mary to find words for this hymn of
praise to God that fit who she was as a person and a parent. They
are profound words.

They are also PROFOUNDLY joyful.
Mary is praising God, for being God. Mary knows her place in the
world, and it is not the top. She is awed that God would work with
her to do important things, and SEES herself as being “lowly” and
lifted up by God’s work with her. I’m also stuck that while the
first few verses name Mary’s awe at God’s work in her life, she moves
on quickly to simply her delight in God’s own self. She celebrates
God’s loving-kindness, constancy, strength, willingness to turn
upside down the powers and privileges of the world, to lift up the
lowly, to fill up the hungry, to offer care to those in need of it.

Mary’s song is a song of joy for
a God who feels close at hand in her life and in history, the past,
the present, and the future, the one who brings hope, the one who
makes it possible for her to face her own daunting circumstances.
She expresses JOY at being a partner with God in God’s work EVEN
THOUGH the circumstances were so far from ideal for her.

And I believe her words of
praise for God were a response to the words Elizabeth spoke to her.
As Elizabeth wiped away her shame and made space for Mary to
experience love, Mary’s life-light was able to emerge fully, and that
came out as PURE JOY.

It is hard (really really hard)
to fight through our shame to get to joy. But when the shame goes,
OH the things that can emerge!

I’ve been thinking a lot about
shame in the past few weeks, largely because focusing on the story of
Mary doesn’t give me any other option. Mary fits into a very long
cultural tradition that values female virginity, seeks to control
female sexuality, and generally treats women as if their only value
is in their capacity to provide womb access to the man who owns that
access. If she fails – because she is raped, because the couple is
infertile, or for any other reason, SHE is shamed.

This is one of the few times
when I don’t think the Biblical needs much contextual help. History
has changed, but not so much that we can’t follow that one.

This is why I find Elizabeth’s
words so powerful, when she compares Mary to other Biblical heroines
who were in compromising situations but were not defined by them.

I also have been thinking about
what shame looks like today. Obviously there is still an
over-abundance of shame around sex and sexuality. But we like to
make things complicated in our society today – we have a tendency
to make standards so contradictory and impossible that everyone can
find something to be ashamed about. There is shame for having too
much sex, or too little, for being too focused on it, or not enough,
for being sexually interested in the “wrong” person (or type, or
gender), or for being asexual, … for example.

And, there is shame for those
who have been assaulted, harassed, raped, or abused. This is some of
the strongest shame, and some of the most problematic.

For anyone holding sexual shame,
I invite you to this powerful reality: you are like Mary, the
mother of Jesus.

And I pray there are people like
Elizabeth in your life who will help you reframe what you’ve
experienced and find your own power in your story. So you can find
your joy!

In our society, though, sexual
shame is just one component. It seems to me that there are almost as
many sources of shame as there are ways we categorize each other.
Existing within capitalism, we have a societal narrative that poverty
is shameful. But, truthfully, we also know there is a shame in being
wealthy too – that to gain too much is to take it from others, to
have too much is to refuse to use it to help others. And, somehow,
people in the middle can feel shame BOTH WAYS.

Which is how a lot of things
work. Our society acts as if there is shame in struggling in school,
but also shames those who do too well in school, and it manages to
fall both ways on those in the middle. Or there is a story that
there is shame in different bodies – heights, weights, abilities,
dis-abilities, colors, hair types, noses.

And, let’s also mention the
shame around relationship status, where one might experience shame
for being single, or marrying too quickly, or being divorced, or
remarrying at the wrong time, or having kids or not having kids or
staying home with kids or not staying home with kids or having too
many kids or too few kids or kids the wrong way or at the wrong time.

Our society is ripe with ways to
shame us, to tell us we’re wrong, to make us squirm. It manages to
land on everyone, although not at all equally, and causes untold
damage, most of which is invisible.

I suspect the shame is aimed at
controlling us and getting us to buy things, a population overcome
with its own failures is less likely to notice how it can seek
justice for each other, and is less able to connect and build
relationships that transform lives. And, we’re all a part of it too
– as we are overwhelmed by our sense of shame, we tend to try to
lower the anxiety of it all by naming what we see in other and…
passing it along. Ick.

But, this story of Elizabeth and
Mary is a profound example of the powers that can TRANSFORM shame.
Elizabeth saw Mary’s shame, referenced it, reframed it, and
celebrated Mary instead of shaming her. That’ll change things.

Last week I called us to be like
Elizabeth, wiping way shame to make space for God’s gifts of love
(and this week I’ll add joy.) But one of you, in response, reminded
me that before we can be like Elizabeth wiping away shame, we need to
face our shame like Mary did.

And now, I need to go back and
admit that Elizabeth had her fair share of shame too. At the
beginning of Luke she was a childless woman, which would have been
understood to be a “useless” woman. (Blech.) But something had
happened in Elizabeth where her shame become an opening for
compassion instead of a form of embitterment.

What a beautiful thing that is,
when our wounds, our shame, our struggles can open our hearts, break
open our compassion, make space in us for the struggles and shames of
others. That thing that can happen is a form of grace. It is an act
of God.

It is an act of God that comes
in many forms – sometimes the grace within us starts in awe and
wonder, sometimes from another person offering it to us, sometimes
directly from God, sometimes from the wisdom of a stranger – maybe
through a book or podcast, sometimes even I think it just comes from
within when the strength of our spirit rejects the narrative of our
brokenness.

Even though shame gets passed
around this world, and magnified, SO TOO does grace. I believe that
this is a place where good theology is a source of grace, and thus of
hope, love, and joy. So let me say some things as a person of faith,
a religious leader, a pastor, a person who seeks to follow Jesus’s
ways of knowing God:

God is not ashamed of you.
Shame is not a tool God uses.
God is willing and able to work
with you to eliminate your shame.
God loves you and even LIKES
you, and has compassion for you.
Grace is a tool God uses.
God is willing and able to work
with you to show you the power of grace in the world and in your
life.
Your body, your desires, your
gender, your abilities, your lack of abilities, your strength, your
weakness, your relationship status, your work status, your income,
and your resume are NOT what make you worthy or unworthy.
You are INHERENTLY worthy.
You are a beloved child of God.
God wants wonderful things for
you.
God wants wonderful things for
everyone.
You can’t exempt yourself from
God’s desire for goodness for you.

And finally

You aren’t going to shame
yourself into being better.

So, dear ones, to the extent
that it is in your capacity to do so, let go of your shame, and then
let God help you let go of it some more. Let grace in.

Because when you do, you may
find that your song of JOY is even more profound than Mary’s! Thanks
be to God! Amen

December 11, 2022

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

Uncategorized

“Love” based on Genesis 17:15-22 and Luke 1:39-45

December 4, 2022
by Sara Baron

I’ve
always loved this little interlude in Luke 1, when Mary goes to visit
Elizabeth. I recognize it to be an early Christian creation, aimed
at connecting John the Baptist and Jesus, while putting them in their
correct order, but there were lots of ways that could have been done
and I appreciate this one.

Now,
I’ve always thought of it as … sweet, nurturing, maternal.
Elizabeth is OLD, a la Sarah, but pregnant, and it is astounding and
wonderful, and it seems Elizabeth has waited a life time for this.
From within the story, it seems likely that Mary was struggling, was
sent away for her pregnancy so people at home wouldn’t know, and was
sent to an older cousin who could be trusted to keep her safe. Maybe
even one known to be a little less judgmental than others. Or
perhaps just one known to be able to feed another mouth. Who knows??

But
I love this idea of this older pregnant woman and this younger
pregnant woman spending months side by side, experiencing new things
in their bodies, developing a deeper trust, maybe even discussing
what God was up to around them. It has ended up being a model for me
of the value of retreat, the value of mentors, the value of
connections with others who can hold me up when I’m vulnerable.

I
love this story.

This
week I learned that I’ve missed the majority of it’s power. I need
to give some context warnings here about violence, murder, and sexual
violence. It is always OK to leave, and stop listening when it isn’t
OK to hear.

Elizabeth
speaks a blessing to Mary, it is particularly familiar to those who
have prayed The Hail Mary, which says:

Hail, Mary, full of grace,
the
Lord is with thee.
Blessed art thou amongst women
and
blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus.
Holy Mary, Mother of
God,
pray for us sinners,
now and at the hour of our
death.
Amen.

Elizabeth’s
words are, “Blessed are you among women, and blessed is the
fruit of your womb…” (Those are the ones picked up verbatim
in The Hail Mary) “From where does this visit come to me? That the
mother of my sovereign comes to me? Look! As soon as I heard the
sound of your greeting in my ear, the baby in my womb leaped for joy.
Now blessed is she who believed there would be a fulfillment of
these things spoken to her by the Holy One.”

As
Dr. Wilda Gafney says, “Elizabeth’s greeting comes from scriptures
she well could have known: Judges 5:24 and Judith 13:18. They invite
speculation on her contact with them orally or in writing…
Elizabeth’s proximity to the temple and its liturgies and her own
priestly lineage may have increased the likelihood of her literacy.”¹
So, like you do, I looked up Judges 5:24 and Judith 13:18. They may
not be what you’d expect.

The
Judges passage, in context is:

Most blessed of women be
Jael,
   the wife of Heber the Kenite,
   of
tent-dwelling women most blessed.
He asked water and she gave him
milk,
   she brought him curds in a lordly bowl.

She put her hand to the
tent-peg
   and her right hand to the workmen’s
mallet;
she struck Sisera a blow,
   she crushed
his head,
   she shattered and pierced his temple.

He sank, he fell,
   he lay still at her
feet;
at her feet he sank, he fell;
   where he
sank, there he fell dead.

Judith
13:18 is more similar than you might think, “Then Uzziah said to
her, ’O daughter, you are blessed by the Most High God above all
other women on earth, and blessed by the Lord God, who created
the heavens and the earth, who has guided you to cut off the head of
the leader of our enemies.”

This
is… not as cozy as I was thinking. And, I’m thinking for lots of
you, these are not familiar stories and you might not have any idea
whatsoever is going on with the Bible celebrating murder.

So,
let’s at the very least make ourselves a little bit familiar with
the stories of these women to whom Mary is being compared. First
Jael, from the book of Judges. The book of Judges tells some of the
pre-history of the Ancient Nation of Israel, describing a 400 year
period when the tribes mostly functioned on their own, and when there
were outsider attacks, God raised up leaders – called Judges – to
fight them off and protect the people. One such judge was a woman
named Deborah, and she worked with a general named Barak when an
attack came from the Canaanites led by their general Sisera. Deborah
is called a prophetess as well as a judge, and is presented as
capable and impressive.

Her
general Barak is scared because the Sisera and the Canaanites have
more impressive weapons than they do, so he asks Deborah to come with
him into the battle, believing that God would help keep HER safe and
thus keep him safe. Deborah responds that she’ll go, AND that while
he will “win” the glory will not go to him, but to a woman.

So,
the battle happens, the Israelites win, the Canaanites run away, and
the general is running off on his own trying to save his own life.
He come to the tents of the Kenites, likely a metal working or
artisan tribe with neutrality to both parties, particularly the tent
of Heber the Kenite, who is gone, and Jael the Kenite who is present.
Jael invites him in, makes him comfortable, gives him milk, stands
guard while he goes to sleep, and then drives a tent stake into his
head to kill him. When the General Barak comes after him, Jael shows
Barak Sisera’s body.

And
then Deborah and Barak sing a song of praise for the winning of the
battle and Jael’s part in it – which is where we get our verses
from Judges.

So,
Judith. I suspect you are even less likely to know her story, as the
book of Judith is considered part of the Apocrypha (that is,
Protestants don’t consider it part of the Bible). It is a novel,
written a century or two before Jesus, telling the story of Judith
who saves her village from the Assyrian General Holofernes. It is a
pretty good story, and I’m a little bit sorry to give you spoilers,
but my goal is to explain Elizabeth and Mary, so shrug. The
General was attacking Judith’s home town, and the Jews there had
brokered a 5 day peace plan, but the council was hemming and hawing
about what to do, so Judith took things into her own hands. She does
a lot of praying and asking for God’s help, and she dresses up
beautifully, lies to the army to say she is fleeing to the enemy army
for safety, makes it plain to the General that she is game for
seduction, and then when he seeks to do so, plies him with enough
alcohol that he passes out drunk, beheads him with his own sword,
steals his head, goes off with her maid to pray, and instead of
returning to the war camp, goes back to her village to tell them
she’d solved their problem. The town magistrate then speaks the
words we heard earlier, praising her and naming her as having
followed God’s guidance.

Now,
we need to take this one more step, back to Dr. Gafney for an
explanation of Elizabeth’s words, “Both forerunners of this
greeting are associated with bloody violence: Deborah’s war against
the Canaanites and Jael’s execution of Sisera, and an Assyrian siege
and Judith’s execution of Holofernes. Further, both Judith and Jael
are in sexually scandalous situations: attempted rape and assignation
and seduction. Mary’s own pregnancy is scandalous, hinting at sexual
infidelity. Elizabeth’s words provide transgenerational support and
comfort.”

That
is, if you were wondering why Jael would have murdered Sisera when
her people were at peace with him, the assumption underlying the
story is that he had or would attempt to rape her. Deborah ends up
celebrating that she didn’t end up having to seduce the general, but
is is CLEAR that she was going to do what needed to be done to save
her people.

These
women were fierce, to say the least. They were deadly. And, at the
same time, they were vulnerable. Jael was alone her in tent.
Deborah’s people were all at risk of death, and her actions to save
them put her at great risk – and alone in the general’s tent as
well. These women were praised as being “most blessed of women”
and “you are blessed by the Most High God above all other women on
earth.” And they too had scandals. It is as if the scandals don’t
make them less worthy of the praise they received.

It
is as if what happened to Mary need not define her life either. It
is as if whatever the world may be saying about Mary, even if her
life is at risk because of the interpretation of infidelity, she is
being connected to some of the fiercest, most active women in the
Bible in protecting God’s people. It is as if Elizabeth is seeing
her scandal, and giving her a new way to see it. It is as if
Elizabeth’s words wipe away Mary’s shame and give her a new frame of
reference, one that has been repeated millions of times in history,
praising Mary, and her role in God’s plans.

Friends,
in a world that defines people by their scandals, a world that locks
people up for their worst moments (or presumed worst moments), a
world that cuts people of for mistakes, a world that remembers even
misspoken words – let us be Elizabeths. Let us see, and have the
power to reframe the shame people hold. Let us wipe away shame to
make room for love. Let us see the whole person, even the hero, in
the broken one. Let us remember the stories of the HUMANITY of God’s
people in the Bible, and make space for HUMANITY in each other and in
ourselves. Let us be Elizabeths, wiping away shame to make space for
love. Amen

1Wilda
Gafney, A Women’s Lectionary for the Whole Church
(New York, NY: Church Publishing Incorporated, 2021), page 7.

December 4, 2022

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

Uncategorized

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

November 27, 2022
by Sara Baron

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Phew.

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

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

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

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

And yet, there has been hope.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Our God is a God who sees.

A God who hears.

And a God of hope.

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

November 27, 2022

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