#fumcschenectady

[firstumcschenectady]

“Resurrection People” based on Revelation 22:12-14, 16-17, 20-21 & John 17:20-26

There have been so many mass shootings. There have been so many that I suspect all of us have been touched by them not just on the news but also more directly, whether they be from afar, or from close up. My mother spent a year at Sandy Hook Elementary School. A friend went to the “other” high school - not to Columbine. Another friend grew up in the Conklin United Methodist Church, and to Susquehanna Valley Central schools. (The location of the young man who committed mass murder in Buffalo). These little connections make these deaths and the violence very, very real.

For years it seemed like the primary work of Schenectady Clergy Against Hate was to be gathering together with marginalized communities to speak to the pain of attacks against them. We got good at it. I'm still upset about that.

There isn't much point in standing in this pulpit and decrying a lack of reasonable gun control laws – it is preaching to the choir. But also, how can one stand in this pulpit and do anything other than name the abomination that is a society that puts weapons of mass murder in the hands of those who engage in hate crimes, and those who wish to kill children. Buffalo and Uvalde. Back to back. But we all know what happened after Sandy Hook.

(Nothing.)

We live in a country that says it values the right to bear arms, but does so without providing a right to safety. We live in a country that won't change its laws because the gun manufacturers have too strong of a lobby. We live in a country that is more invested in profits from murder than in preventing murder.

How can we do anything but grieve?

We live in a violent society, and it impacts us in so very many ways. We live in a violent society.

It breaks my heart. Sometimes it threatens to break my spirit.

But, I'm a person of faith, and so I choose to dream with you and with God about the nonviolent society that God wants for us, the beloved community that Dr. King spoke of, the kindom of God Jesus named, the true “Promised Land” of the people of God. I don't want to give more time to violence.

Sure, I'm still going to contact my representatives and ask for changes to our gun laws. Sure, I'm still going to object to private prisons and solitary confinement and police brutality, and the like. That isn't going to end. We can't get from here to there without actual change.

But first and foremost, I want to follow Jesus on the path of nonviolence. I want to give my energy to how things should be. I don't want to engage violence with violence. I want to engage the world with love.

Also, we aren't going to get from here to there without knowing what we're aiming at.

The text we have from John this week is as convoluted as John tends to be. But his point is that the loving community of faith is meant to be a living expression of the love of God. Jesus prays, asking that we might learn how to love. Jesus tries to place in the hearts of his followers, one more seed in hopes that it will grow: “I made your name known to them, and I will make it known, so that the love with which you have loved me may be in them, and I in them." (17:26) We're told, time and time again, that it is by loving each other in faith community that the world is changed. We start with each other.

The text from Revelation includes the very last words of the Bible, and I'm told that they're best interpreted, “The grace of the Lord Jesus be with all. Amen.” There is a universality, a hope in both passages that the love that starts with Jesus and extends to the community of faith may become the norm in the world at large, and eventually the way the world works. We end with everyone.

For a very long time, Christianity was so profoundly peaceful that it was assumed a Christian could not fight in a war. (This changed around the time there was a desire for Crusades. Sigh.) This is still true enough that our Social Principals state, “We believe war is incompatible with the teachings and example of Christ.” (165.c) United Methodists are able to use our faith as the bases of being a conscientious objector in the face of a draft.

Yet, there are so many ways that violence seeps in. It seeps into our language. It seeps in to our values. It seems into our lives. At times, it seems right into our faith.

We often talk these days about “echo chambers” and the distances between people of different political parties. We bemoan the increasing partisanship of our society. Which is good, because it is dangerous.

When I need to be reminded of the power of nonviolence, and how deeply rooted it is in my faith, I go back to the King Center for Nonviolent Social Change. Their fundamental tenet, #3: Nonviolence Seeks to Defeat Injustice, or Evil, Not People.

Nonviolence recognizes that evildoers are also victims and are not evil people.

The nonviolent resister seeks to defeat evil not persons victimized by evil.

Just saying those words reminds me that nonviolence requires great strength, and a community commitment to it. Reminding each other that those who do evil are victims and are not evil takes a faith community. I've often been struck by those in this community who have the patience to pray for those who do great harm, and how they guide and remind the rest of us of that need.

I have been for many years a student of “Nonviolent Communication” but if I'm honest, within that community there is a desire to change the name to “Compassionate Communication.” People do not want to define themselves AGAINST something, not even AGAINST violence, but rather FOR sometime, FOR compassion. I think they're onto something. I think turning towards what we want the world to look like matters, even in little ways.

Our gospels tell us Jesus prayed for those who were crucified with him, and for those who crucified him. “Father, forgive them, for they do not know what they are doing.” (Luke 23:34). In the midst of dying by state-sponsored violence, Jesus offered compassion, grace, mercy, forgiveness.

That's the one we follow.

But also, we follow the one who told us to “turn the other cheek” and this is, of course, were our faith gets really interesting. Because to “turn the other cheek” is not simply to accept violence from another passively. To turn the other cheek – because of lack of toilet paper that created a societal norm that only allowed right hands to be used in public and because of a societal norm that indicated one backhanded a subordinate and slapped an equal – was to demand equality without returning violence with violence. Similarly, Jesus' words on the cross take back the upper hand. They take the power of forgiveness. They take the power of knowledge. In the face of violence, they offer compassion and prove it to be a potent force.

This is the 7th, and last, Sunday of Easter. This is the final time this year that our primary focus is on the Easter Story (well, kinda, every Sunday is a “little Easter” but go with me).

There are many ways to understand Jesus's resurrection, but for today, let's focus on this one: The greatest threat the Empire had was violence, in particular violence in the form of a horrid public death. But resurrection says violence doesn't get the final answer, not even death gets the final answer. Resurrection says that compassion gets the final answer. Mercy gets the final answer. Peace gets the final answer. LOVE gets the final answer.

Nothing, nothing, NOTHING could stop the love of God in Jesus. Romans 8:35-39.

Who will separate us from the love of Christ? Will hardship, or distress, or persecution, or famine, or nakedness, or peril, or sword? As it is written, ‘For your sake we are being killed all day long;    we are accounted as sheep to be slaughtered.’ No, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us. For I am convinced that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor rulers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor powers, nor height, nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.

Violence has a lot of power. A gut wrenching, sickening, disgusting amount of power.

And yet even in the midst of mass murders, we are Easter people. Easter, exists as a response to the violence of the world. We are Resurrection People. We are people of peace, and compassion, and nonviolence. We are people who know that love wins in the end. We are people who believe our lives can be useful in bringing peace, compassion, justice, and hope to the world. We are followers of a creative, loving, compassionate Savior, who could not even be stopped by death.

We are a Resurrection People.

Lord, hear our prayers. 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

May 29, 2022

[firstumcschenectady]

“The Richness of the Unknown” based on Isaiah 65:17-25 and John 20:1-18 (Easter)

I am so thankful it is Easter Sunday.  I'm ready to celebrate the goodness of God, the power of life, the unstoppable force of love in the world.  I'm thankful for music that resonates in my SOUL, and functions as a ritual to let my body know this is a time to let go, to be, to savor.

It has been a long, hard trudge to get to Easter.  If I'm really honest, we're still in a long, hard trudge, but Easter feels like a great excuse to step away from the trudge and just be joyous for a bit.

It does seem worth discussion what sort of joy we're talking about though.  By my count, there are 10 Easter stories in the Gospels (Mark has 4, Luke 3, John 2, and Matthew for some reason only 1), 10 different stories trying to make sense of …. something.  The simple fact that there are so many stories suggests to me that what happened on Easter (and throughout the 50 days after it), is hard to put into words and thus a variety of metaphors was the best way people could explain it.  

The stories all point to the idea that the death Jesus suffered on the cross didn't have the final word.  But they struggle to make sense of it.  They did not understand.  In the two Easter stories we heard from John this morning the phrase (did) “not know” came up three times.  There was unknowing in Easter itself and it its early stories!  That makes it OK for us when we come to Easter with some “unknowing” of our own.

Somehow, Jesus' disciples and followers continued to experience his wisdom, his teaching, and the power of his vitality even after he died.

And whatever it was that constituted their experience, it was POWERFUL in their lives.  It changed them.  The students became the teachers.  Those frightened and hidden away came out of hiding and took risks for the sake of sharing Jesus's good news.  The women kept on keeping on.

The ways we explain Easter today continue in the grand tradition of trying to make sense of it all.  Our metaphors abound.  Some stick with the early metaphor of “Easter is the day Jesus was raised from the dead.”  Others will say, “Easter is about the unstoppable power of life, especially life with God.”  Charles Wesley says, “Death in vain forbids him rise,” and asks, “Where's thy victory, boasting grave?”  Marcus Borg gives us the language that Easter is God's YES to the world's NO.

There are a lot of wonderful and powerful meanings to be made from Easter, and I encourage you to savor the ones that bring YOU to life.

In the midst of all I've already offered, for me the greatest power of Easter is in its “always present” quality.  One way or another, when Jesus died, the goal of the Empire was to kill him, to stop his life and his ministry.  It worked, as the story says, Mary was weeping when she showed up that Easter morning.  The power of death worked UNTIL his disciples experienced SOMETHING on Easter, and after that they took up his ministry and in doing so claimed his life energy, and kept it going.  Before Easter, Jesus was the Body of Christ, but on Easter the disciples became the Body of Christ – and this is what really matters to me – and the power of his life-energy, and the importance of his ministry, and the sharing of his God-vision is STILL the work of the Body of Christ.  In important and meaningful ways, when I say, “Christ is alive,” I know that is true because I'm looking at you, the church, doing Christ's work.

In the Gospel of John, the words are in Mary Magdalene's mouth, “I have seen the Lord.”  In the Body of Christ, I too have seen God at work.

And I think that's PLENTY miraculous.

So, then, if this is our work, we want to be as clear as possible about what it means to continued the life, ministry, and God-vision of Jesus.  Because, well, not everyone agrees about this.  #Shock.

This is where I think the Isaiah passage is an incredible EASTER gift to us, even if it was written for a people of a different time who used different metaphors for God's power over life and death.

The most striking thing about the Isaiah passage for me, initially, was its humility.  Isaiah 65 seeks to answer the question, “What SHOULD life look like?” and it starts like I think we'd expect.  It says life should be LONG and ABUNDANT.  There SHOULD NOT BE young tragic deaths.  

Amen.

But then it takes what initially seemed to me to be a sort of weak turn.  In this utopic dream of a “new heaven and a new  earth” that God is creating full of justice and wholeness and goodness, what are the defining factors other than longevity?  “They shall build houses and inhabit them; they shall plant vineyards and eat their fruit” (65:21) and also they will be aware of the presence of God.

I get it.  This would sound miraculous to a people who have build houses but not lived in them, planted vineyards and not gotten to eat the fruit, that it is fitting for them that this ends with, “The wolf and the lamb shall feed together, the lion shall eat straw like the ox; but the serpent--its food shall be dust! They shall not hurt or destroy on all my holy mountain, says the LORD.”

But all of that together suggests that ... universal vegetarianism and an end to all violence seems CONSISTENT with … not having your labor stolen or your home displaced.

Which suggests that not having your home stolen or the fruit of your labor appropriated is a REALLY BIG DEAL.  But, is it?  I mean, why stop with just having people not displaced and able to glean the value of their work.  Why not have everyone live at Disneyland, or apparition, or … I don't know, world peace.

But the longer I thought about it, the more I realize this dream is EVERYTHING.  It actually IS world peace – because world peace looks EXACTLY like people being safe to build homes and live in them without being displaced, and having the consistency to be able to labor and glean the fruits of one's labor without anyone else coming in with violence to take it.

AND this is a dream of an end to world hunger too – because people have access to enough land and resources and the capacity to GLEAN THE FRUIT OF THEIR LABOR.

And the more I think about people being able to glean the fruit of their labor, the more I realize that covers A WHOLE LOT of injustices.  If people can glean the fruit of their labor – then the rich aren't getting wealthier off of the labor of the poor.  So, it is like universal basic income and a living minimum wage rolled into one.  It is also an end to predatory lending.  This is a dream of equity and equality and fairness and justice all at once – with the “simple” means of stable safe housing and people being able to keep the fruits of their labors.

When we hear of atrocities in the world, most of them equate to violations of this dream.  People are killed too young, or displaced from their homes and communities, or the fruits of their labor is stolen from them. Please note that the Bible and I agree that part of being a community with fair labor practices is sharing so that those unable to labor are still cared for.  There have always been those unable to work, and a functional society finds ways to care for them as BELOVED and VALUED members of that society.

It is a good life, indeed, with stable safe housing and the capacity to glean the fruits of our labor, and to have enough at the end of it to share with others.  It may sound simple, but it is AMAZING when it happens.  Far too few people have lived this dream, and the dream is for EVERYONE.

The more I think about this vision, the more I see its power, and the more I see how much it isn't one that is yet here.

How many people are dying too young?  And how many of those deaths would be preventable?

How many members of our city lack stable and safe housing?  How many New Yorkers?  How many US citizens?  And then how many people are migrants and refugees in the world right now?  

Then, how many people see the just fruits of their labor??  In the interest of some brevity, I'll leave that as a thought question for you to ponder.

Isaiah 65 was a vision for newly returned Exiles and the people who had been left behind during the Exile.  It was a reminder of God's wishes for a stable, compassionate, equalitarian society.  It was a dream to aim for, a reminder of how God wants the world ordered, a clarity on what communal holy living looks like.

When we talk about the beloved community, the kindom of God, the Jesus teaching of a God-vision, I don't believe Jesus was breaking with his own Jewish tradition.  This vision of what God wanted for people is another version of what Jesus taught.  This vision of what God wanted for people is a way of talking about what it means to be the Body of Christ building the kindom of God, or what it means to be an Easter people.

Long, good, lives. Stable safe housing.  People able to enjoy the fruits of their labor. People having enough to share.  

Such a simple vision.  

Such a world away from our reality right now.

May God help us to build that future.  Because as Easter people, we believe that love wins in the end and God isn't finished with us yet.  This vision is a vision for us, and for everyone, and God is willing to work with us on it.   Thanks be to God!  Amen

[firstumcschenectady]

“Testing Kinship Loyalty” based on Deuteronomy 26:1-11 and Luke 4:1-13

I've got to admit it.  I'm not tempted by the things Jesus was “tempted” by in the dessert.  I have never once wanted to change a rock into bread (perhaps because I lack that skill???), I'm well aware that running kingdoms or even democracies is incredibly difficult work that I don't wish to partake in, and I do not wish to test God by jumping off high places for no reason.

Nope.  I do not resonate with these.

There are not my temptations.

You want to know what my temptations are?  These days I have serious temptations to stop fighting – to just give up on the pandemic and stop trying to be safe and stop trying to create safe places.  I want to do CRAZY things like bring my kid to worship, or have dinner at a friend's house, or get a plane and meet one of my dear friend's new babies.  I want to just stop worrying.  I want to make people happy.  I want to encourage people, “sure, do whatever you want in worship.  Take of masks!  Stop distancing!  Sing!  Don't worry about it!”  I'm tempted to just give up.

AND

(and this is the really annoying part)

I'm also tempted in exactly the opposite way.  I live in constant fear that a choice I make will result in my unvaccinated, too young to wear a mask kid getting COVID and living with long covid for the rest of their life.  And so, I want to create a bubble and never leave it.  I want to stay home, stop day care, have groceries delivered, and function on zoom until …. forever I guess.  

Actually, if I'm honest, more than really being tempted by either extreme, I'm tempted by the idea of not having to decide anymore.  “Is this safe?”  “Is this safe ENOUGH?”  “Is this worth it?”  “If this results in my kid having long covid, in 20 years will I think this was the right choice?”  “Do I need to do this because someone else's needs outrank my own (or outrank my needs related to my kid)?”  “Is this the right balance of caution and courage?”

I'm so tired.  It is so tempting to move to one extreme or the other and just stop deciding.  It is so tempting to move to one extreme or the other and only have one group of people frustrated with me and my decisions.

The temptation is to just... give up.  To pick an extreme and live with the consequences and at the very least not have to decide OVER and OVER and OVER again.  

This likely isn't even relevant to most of you anymore.  Maybe you remember it, but those who are vaccinated and immunocompetent, those of you who don't live with people who are either unvaccinated or immunocompromised, are possibly just feeling free now.  Numbers are down, and lots of very reasonable people are ready to go on with life, for good reason.  And for you, it may even be that my temptations are a sort of unpleasant reminder of your past, one that you'd rather forget.

I also know that I'm not alone. There are plenty of families with kids under 5, or with immunocompromised people, or even just people who work with kids or immunocompromised people who still adjust their lives to protect others – or just people who adjust their lives to protect others. People make these choices because, in the end, they think it is right.  

Of course, there are ALSO people who have decided that the needs of connection, or the life-giving work they do, or the risk they've assessed mean that letting go of fear and seeking out other people is the right choice for them.  

Hmmm.

I guess what I'm saying is that I'm tempted by simple answers, by choices I can make once and not go back to, by CLARITY, but CERTAINTY.  I don't need to be able to make the choices for everyone or have them be the same, but my goodness gracious I'd like some simple answers for ME.  I'd likely settle for a single simple answer, if I could get one.

If you've been listening to me preach for some time, you may be scratching your head at how I, one of the people you know who is most comfortable thinking in shades of gray could get to such a desire for certainty, for black and white answers.  The answer is unfortunately simple:  the higher anxiety goes, the more humans search for certainty and wish to back it up at all costs.  So, what you are hearing is that I'm a human impacted by anxiety.  Just to put it out there, so are you.  Welcome to the 2020s.

Bruce Malina and Richard Rohrbaugh in “Social Science Commentary on the Synoptic Gospels” point out that what Jesus is being tested on in the desert is his loyalty to God.  Does he show faithfulness to God, as kin?  Does he show faithfulness to God as his leader?  Does he show faithfulness to God in understanding God's wishes?  The answers, of course, are yes.

But I rather liked that they referred to the question about commanding a stone to become bread as a test of kinship loyalty to God.  They explain it this way:

Note carefully how the devil frames the first challenge, “If you are the Son of God...” Precisely that has been the claim and precisely that is what is being tested.

Note also how carefully Jesus answers when his lineage is questioned.  He does not answer in his own words, as if his honor derives from what he is in himself.  To do that would be to grasp honor above that of his own Father and turn honor into dishonor.  So he answers as a loyal Middle Eastern son would always answer – with something from his family tradition.  He offers the words of his true Father in Deuteronomy and by such laudable behavior he gains honor as virtue.1

A test of kinship loyalty to God.  That does resonate.

Probably because all the angles of what I'm tested by are variations on the theme of “a test of kinship loyalty.”  What is my loyalty to my immediate family – my child and others who are vulnerable?  How do I balance that with my loyalty to my church family – which includes people who are vulnerable in all sorts of ways including in needs to be together and in needs to lower COVID risks.  How do I balance THAT with my “kinship loyalty” to God?

And suddenly, with that framing, at the very least, I can understand why I feel pulled in so many ways and exhausted by the pressure of every decision.  Kinship loyalty itself pulls me in a multitude of directions, and each direction has its own set of reasons why it is right good, and most of the time each direction has something pulling in exactly the opposite direction that ALSO has reasons for being right and good.

But, at least I have a frame to make sense of it!

And, if I want to simplify things, I can admit to myself that for me, kinship loyalty to God is not actually distinct from kinship loyalty to those I already care for.  (With the possible exception that God would likely include ME in my calculations, which I notably did not.)

So, the long and short of it is that I FEEL the testing, I feel the wandering in the desert, I feel the yearning for clarity, but, at least I know it all comes from love?

And THAT gets me to the absolutely fabulous Deuteronomy reading.  It is a favorite of mine. Deuteronomy is set in the wilderness, but at the edge of it.  The whole book presents itself as a series of speeches given to prepare the people before they enter the Promised Land, so that when they get there, they'll do it right.

One of the themes of Deuteronomy is that it is in the adversity and challenge of the desert that the people learned to depend on God, and it is going to be more challenging to remember their dependence on God when things are going well.  As a person who feels like I'm wandering in the desert, I think I respond along with those who listened the first time, “Yeah, that's a risk I'm willing to take.”

The reading says that when they get there, and they grow things, there is going to be an ABUNDANCE, as that is what God wants for the people.  As they grow that abundance, as they settle into a sense of food security, they're to remember their wanderings and give thanks for their abundance.  And as that happens, they are to REMEMBER their story, they are to REMEMBER their scarcity, they are to REMEMBER what it took to get there.

Isn't that interesting?  I think in our culture we tend toward wanting to remember the glory days, not the days of struggle.  We think about when we were strong and capable, not when we were … struggling to find our way in the desert.

But, the idea of this commandment to tithe is to do so while recounting struggles, and to give thanks for abundance by noticing what it took to get there.  AND THEN taking of that abundance to share with those who don't have it (the landless priests and Levites and the foreigners without land allotments.)

This whole thing just moves me. That idea that we recognize our weak times, the idea that abundance is God's will for us (the culmination of the story), the reality that the first thing to do with abundance is to share it, the creation of a system whereby an abundance for some makes life possible for others, and within all this that this is where our tradition of offering comes from which is just so cool.

The culmination of the story is abundance.  The people are being taught how to distribute God's abundance fairly.  They may be standing on the edge of the Promised Land, but the goal is to get there and live there and have it be just for everyone.

(And they did!  For centuries! And it was equitable!  It is possible!  That matters too.)

So for me, right now, in my place of being tested in the desert, I'm going to take hope from the story about abundance, and the reminder that it is God's long term plan for me, for us, for all of us.

That doesn't actually solve anything in the present, but it is unsolvable.  However, having some hope helps me get through.  Abundance is God's plan for all of us. God teaches us how to be generous with our abundance.  Kinship loyalty to everyone is how we get there, and I guess... learning how to balance a multiplicity of needs within the kinship network is.. a useful skill?

Well, in any case, hear the words the people were to say as they brought forward their offerings:

"A wandering Aramean was my ancestor; he went down into Egypt and lived there as an alien, few in number, and there he became a great nation, mighty and populous. When the Egyptians treated us harshly and afflicted us, by imposing hard labor on us, we cried to the LORD, the God of our ancestors; the LORD heard our voice and saw our affliction, our toil, and our oppression. The LORD brought us out of Egypt with a mighty hand and an outstretched arm, with a terrifying display of power, and with signs and wonders; and God brought us into this place and gave us this land, a land flowing with milk and honey. So now I bring the first of the fruit of the ground that you, O LORD, have given me."

or perhaps:

“I have emerged from a confused and lost people.  In the midst of existent struggles with justice and equity, came a pandemic that threatened everything and everyone in many ways.  The challenges that might have united people overcame them and separated them.  We became harsh to each other.  I did not know what to do.  I was never certain of anything.

I cried to the Lord, as did everyone else, and God heard our voices,

and offered us rest.

God guided us when we didn't know where to go.

God gifted us when we couldn't figure out which way to turn.

God was with us, when we were numb.

God did that, and brought us to a new world, and helped us form it into something better.

So now, I bring the first fruit of hope, that you, O God have given me.”

May the day come when we can say THAT as we bring forward our offerings.  Amen

1 p. 240-41 (Textual Notes: Luke 4:3)

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

March 6, 2022

[firstumcschenectady]

“Shiny... or Maybe Just Shimmering” based on Exodus 34:29-35 and Luke 9:28-26

If I got only one word to summarize today's stories, I'd go with “shiny.”  Moses gets all shiny after connecting with the Divine, and the disciples see Jesus go all shiny on a mountaintop while being blessed by God.

If I got only one word to describe life right now, it would absolutely, positively NOT be shiny.  War is not shiny.  It is camouflage, rubble, blood and tears. Attacking trans kids in Texas isn't shiny.  In some cases, this is an ACTUAL desire to prevent some kids from wearing shiny and glittery things.  Attacking trans kids is a formula that increases suicides, it is a deadly attack with many years of repercussions.  And, just in case you missed this memo, pandemics aren't shiny either.  Used surgical masks on the sides of sidewalks might be a good image of this pandemic, and that's just … shine-less.  Exhaustion and languishing aren't shiny.  

Nope, right now isn't shiny.

And yet, I can remember shiny. Very little in the world shines like a Pride parade, with glitter and sequins in the brightest of colors, and outfits that reflect the sun itself.  I can remember Easter mornings with people dressed up in bright shiny outfits, singing loud with along with shiny a brass quintet and wishing to be able to just extend the moment of wonder as long as possible.  I can remember Sunday morning breakfasts with a full Fellowship hall when someone got triggered and upset, and others had the patience and grace to help the person calm down and even feel safe.  Shiny.

I can remember shiny.

And now isn't shiny.

Except, every once in a while, when something breaks through despite it all.  I'm not sure if anything is shining exactly.  Maybe I could say that some moments shimmer.  When my kid snuggles in close, while my cat purrs, and my partner reads, and the sky lights up with sunrise.  There it is.  A tiny, shimmering moment.  When the banjo is played during the Contemplative Prayer service and people close their eyes to let themselves sway along.  Shimmers.  When, during Family Faith Formation, a kid asks a grown up other than their own to watch them go down a slide, and trusts they'll be affirmed.   Shimmers.  When someone reaches out to the church and asks, “would I, a trans person, REALLY be welcome?” and I can say “Yes, you REALLY are welcome, just as you are,” because I know it is true in this church and that MATTERS.  Shimmers.

I don't want to pretend everything is OK.  It isn't.  Sometimes it feels like NOTHING is OK, but that isn't true either.  Life is a complicated both/and.  Things aren't OK, and yet God shines through in expected moments anyway. Things aren't OK, and love is still here.  Things aren't OK, and most of the time most people are doing their best.  Things aren't OK, and yet some things ARE OK.  Both/and.  

Which is why I'm landing on, “this moment in time isn't shiny, but there are shimmers, and I'm trying to notice them.”  

But, before we talk about that anymore, let's look at our stories again.  They're interesting, and they raise a lot of questions.  The gospel story is clearly forming itself as a new telling of the Exodus story, which suggests we may learn a lot by noticing the differences.  

It has been suggested that the 10 commandments were groundbreaking in that they understood YHWH to be one who cared about how people treated people, and not just about sacrifice or worship directed at a divine being.  Even more so than monotheism, presenting God as one who cares about a just society and moral treatment of others, did NOT reflect the religions of that period of the Ancient Near East.

The story of Moses coming down the mountain with the 10 commandments in hand reflects how central this moment was to the people.  This was a story of WHO they were, why they lived as they did, who they wanted to be, and how they decided to be that people.  

Stories that matter that much are often superimposed with extra meaning, to help people pay attention.  Perhaps, even, they're superimposed with extra light.

The story says that Moses was SHINING when he came down the mountain, and it scared people.  In fact, it seems he stayed shiny for quite a while, and in order to keep the people more comfortable, he wore a veil to cover the shiny. (This is terribly interesting in that veils are much more commonly associated with women in that part of the world.)

The shiny is definitely meant to communicate that some of God's holiness has rubbed off on Moses, which clarifies that he was a sacred messenger, and the 10 commandments were God's own idea.  The shiny imbues the commandments with sacred authority.  The shiny tells the people that their God REALLY cares about their treatment of each other, and creating a society of justice and equity.

This story is then a part of what Luke uses to establish Jesus's authority, his connection with the Divine, to clarify that his message is also blessed with sacred authority.  Jesus, also up on a mountain, also connecting to God, also gets shiny.  Jesus is seen “with” Moses and Elijah, sometimes called “the law and the prophet,” the one who shared God's vision (the law) and the one who called people to account for it (the great prophet).  In the midst of the shiny and the law and the prophet comes an EXPLICIT communication from God "This is my Son, my Chosen; listen to him!"

OK, so clearly this is also about the authority of God's chosen to communicate God's vision.  It also seems to pass some of the authority onto the disciples who are the ones who have to tell others about this authority Jesus now has, which fits the whole Gospel narrative pretty well.  I mean, the Gospels are presented as being by people who were with Jesus telling others why his life mattered and how it was infused with the presence of God.  So establishing that the disciples were the ones who knew how important Jesus was ends up establishing both his authority and their authority to tell the story.

Sigh.  I know.  You give me beautiful, metaphorical, literally shiny texts and I can take most of the fun out of it in no time flat.  

So, let's see if I can put some of the fun back in!  We could wonder why people found the best way to communicate the presence of God was in shininess.  It is sort of a delightful question.  I think it may happen because there is a little bit of truth in it.  Every once in a while, it seems to me that scales are lifted from my eyes and I can see a glimpse of the world and its people as God sees them, and let me tell you, they really do shine with divine love.  Perhaps the ubiquitous halos in Christian art are actually a reflection of how holy and sacred everyone and everything  is to God.  Perhaps the whole world, the whole universe, are supersaturated with love that pours out of their atoms, but most of the time we don't see it, but in moments of Divine grace, we can?

That may actually bring us full circle, right back to “this moment isn't shiny, but it might still shimmer.”  While I believe that God is with us, love is with us, grace and mercy are with us, compassion is with us ALL THE TIME, I also know from personal experience that we are not always able to feel it.  Stress can make it harder to connect with God.  Constant demands make it harder.  Emotional turmoil makes it harder. Lonesomeness makes it harder (hence the yearning to be able to safely gather together for worship.)  Trauma makes it harder.  Fear makes it harder.  Honestly, sometimes the weather makes it harder.

God is with us all the time, but when things are particularly hard, we aren't necessarily well tuned into God's presence.  I do encourage the practice of intentional silence to make space to notice God's presence – even a minute can help – but that isn't a fix-all either.  

This week my encouragement is to see if you can notice some moments that shimmer.  Maybe only one a day.  Maybe it only shimmers 1% more than the rest of the day.  But, in times that feels so profoundly unshiny, I think it helps to notice whatever we can of God breaking through.  Because, God IS with us, and God is helping, and when we notice, we make it easier to notice the next time.  And, I think the moments that shimmer and shine are ones we're supposed to listen to.  Like Moses, or Jesus, they shine to help us pay attention, to say “God is here,” to remind us of the holiness and sacredness of even the mundane parts of life.  Those moments are part of how we get through these days.  

OR, to say this another way entirely, a poem by Mary Oliver

Don’t Hesitate

BY Mary Oliver

If you suddenly and unexpectedly feel joy, don’t hesitate. Give in to it. There are plenty of lives and whole towns destroyed or about to be. We are not wise, and not very often kind. And much can never be redeemed. Still, life has some possibility left. Perhaps this is its way of fighting back, that sometimes something happens better than all the riches or power in the world. It could be anything, but very likely you notice it in the instant when love begins. Anyway, that’s often the case. Anyway, whatever it is, don’t be afraid of its plenty. Joy is not made to be a crumb.

In the midst of hard things and hard times, counter the hard by paying attention to where God is still shining through, however bright, for however long.  That's how we build the kindom, even now.  We pay attention, and we appreciate, we don't hesitate.  Thanks be to God.  Amen

February 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

[firstumcschenectady]

“Stay” based on Isaiah 6:1-8 and Luke 5:1-11

Once upon a time, in an era that feels very long ago, I spent a lot of time trying to listen to what I was supposed to be doing with my life and the answer I discerned was “Clergy, United Methodist Church, Elder, Wyoming Conference.”    

That's not the point today.  

Years after that, I found that I wanted to check to see what I was supposed to  be doing with my life.  I was, by that point, a clergy member of the United Methodist Church, an elder in the Upper New York Annual Conference that followed the existence of the Wyoming Conference. So, in a similar time of prayer, discernment, and listening, I sought to determine what I was supposed to be aimed at next.

The answer I found was, “Stay.”

(I suspect God is short-winded with me so I can't wiggle new interpretations.  Or, perhaps I stop listening too fast?  Who knows.)

The stories for today reflect big changes.  Isaiah moves from being “not a prophet” to “a prophet” and Simon Peter, James, and John moved from being fishermen to Jesus's disciples.  Those are some significant changes in role,  identity, and life! They're BIG answers to the BIG questions of what each of them was “supposed to do with their lives.”

Now, I'll admit, most of the time these stories aren't seen as being about change.  Even I have often preached these as invitations to consider the possibility that God is calling you to do something radical and new, and asking if you are willing to listen to the call.  I've made it about CALL, and I think that was because I'm always aware of the injustice of the world as it is, and the compassion of God, and I'm all for people listening to God's calls to make the world more just. (I still am).

But... to be a part of healing the world ALSO requires that we allow God's healing love to transform US.  And that also means paying attention to when we are at or near breaking points, and then saying “NO MORE” for now.  Or, perhaps, listening when God says “stay” (however it is that God might say that to you.)

It may be that God is saying “stay” and we are able to tell that “stay” is what we need when we notice that we are grasping for control …. and we then take seriously the idea that when we are grasping for control it is because we are experiencing a lack of stability and predictably.  (This assumes God wants good things for us, which I am ok assuming.)

That's the most important thing I'm going to say today, so I'm going to say it again.  One way of listening for God's guidance in our lives IS taking seriously the fact that when we are grasping for control it is because we are experiencing a lack of stability and predictably.

Then, we start noticing when we're grasping for control, AND start figuring out what we CAN do to create stability for ourselves (and others around us.)  Another BIG clue is when we find ourselves wanting or demanding COMPLIANCE.  (From kids, from partners, from employees, from parents, from church committees....)  When we start demanding compliance, it is probably a good clue that we don't feel SAFE, and we're trying to re-create a sense of safety by establishing that we have power in the world.  Even if we are doing it by trying to have power over other people.

These are coping mechanisms.  I'm actually all for coping mechanisms, because we all need to COPE.  BUT, they can also do serious damage, and we are at our best when we increase the number of coping mechanisms we have on hand, and picking which one to use when.

(Just as an aside, because I find it terribly interesting, sometimes in faith people project onto God the desire for compliance.  And I'm interested in the idea that this may be a way of projecting the lack of our sense of safety onto God.)

So, I'm taking these as two “call stories” as stories of change, and noticing the impact of the calls on their lives.  It probably makes sense, right now that these stories resonate as CHANGE.  After all, we are 2 years into this pandemic, but also … maybe... at “the end” of the pandemic, or at least a significant transition point in it.  So we're dealing with the changes of the past 2 years, and the inconsistencies of the past 2 years, and NEW changes now, and changes to come, and then on top of that the reality that the new stability that may emerge is going to look different from the old one...

And that's JUST the pandemic.  Most of us have also experienced other changes in the past two years.  And perhaps because of these past two years, I think at this point “big changes” leaves a sour taste in our mouths.

But, this is not always how we see changes culturally.  Often we think of changes as exciting, wonderful, things.  My go to fiction genre is romance, and falling in love is actually a BIG life change. Actually, the stories we tell, watch, and read are about change.  It has been said (by a writer named John Gardner) that there are only two plots in all of literature: You go on a journey, or the stranger comes to town.  There isn't much plot in the status quo.

However, because we tend to tell stories of change, and celebrate accomplishments that bring change (graduations, etc), we aren't always good at attending to the STRESS created by changes.  The is a measurement of the stress of changes: The Holmes – Rahe Stress inventory.1 It is a method for evaluating how people are doing, and what likelihood there is for an impending HEALTH BREAKDOWN.  Functionally, it is a list of changes, ranked by level of impact, and people add up the values of all the changes they're living to see how BIG they are, together.  

I'm familiar with this from some clergy-transition work, because things like moving and getting a new job are on the list, and the impact of itineracy is... well, a lot of stress.  But, to get back to my point about the CHANGE that is romance, according to this list the “social readjustment” of getting married is the 7th most stressful thing that could happen to you.  (If you wanted to know, and you probably do:  Death of spouse, divorce, separation from spouse” are top 3, although pastorally I think I disagree and death of a child should be in that top 3.  In any case, if you've lived any of these, please note that it wouldn't take many other factors to have you on the high side of this inventory.)  

Other serious factors in stress that feel relevant to right now (and to our stories) include:

Retirement

Major change in health of a family member

Changing to a different line of work

Change in work responsibilities

“Spouse beginning or ceasing work outside the home”

Revision of personal habits (things like, say leaving the home or not)

Major changes in work hours or conditions (NO, I'm NOT making this up)

34 Major change in usual type / amount of recreation

35 Major change in church activity (I AM NOT MAKING THIS UP.. its)

36 Major change in social activity

major change in number of family get togethers

So, perhaps we might note that the pandemic combined with life itself has put ALL of us in much higher stress position than we're used to, and that means we are much more likely to feel unsafe and out of control – and to be doing things (consciously or not) to try to gain control, stability, and predictably in life.

And, being me, I'd suggest you will be more like to be SUCCESSFUL and to make HEALTHY choices about how to gain control, stability, and predictably if you do it consciously.

But, I am bringing all of this up in the context of the changes in our stories from the Bible, and I think our lives right now may help us be in a place to have some empathy for Isaiah and the disciples as they went through major life changes and experienced the stress of that.  We are likely able to see that even as they were being faithful to God, it was hard.  We are able to see that even if the disciples were moved by Jesus, connected to hope for the future, prayerfully connected to the Divine, and finally finding their place in the world …. IT WAS STILL HARD.

Maybe we are ready, at this point, to let go of the myth that “if we're doing things right, it will all come together and be easy.”  I think that's likely a myth of capitalism, one that has been used to keep compliance, and one that has bled into faith.  Following God doesn't make it all easy – even if it does make it all meaningful and valuable and even good.  Doing the right thing is often HARD. Dealing with the changes around us remains incredibly difficult EVEN if they are the ones we choose.  Dealing with changes around us remains incredibly difficult EVEN if they're the right changes.

We're human.  

We live in bodies, given to us by God, that tune into stress, and respond with concern to changes.

AND, we're also capable of surviving and thriving after major changes.

Which is really good news.  Because Isaiah became a prophet, and a good one.  The disciples floundered for quite a while, but eventually became the trusted leaders of the Jesus movement.

Perhaps right now it feels unfortunate that we don't get to skip the experiences of change and just move on to the “good parts” (DARN).   But life is a series of changes, big and small, and we don't get to skip them.  Here we are.  And God is with us.  And we have difficult things to face – inside ourselves and outside of ourselves, and God is with us.  

For now, I hope you might just hear this:  sometimes God isn't calling us to anything new.  Sometimes God is calling us to stay the course, and get settled where we are, and get some more stability.  

And that is holy work too.  

Thanks be to God.  Amen

1https://www.stress.org/holmes-rahe-stress-inventory-pdf

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

February 13, 2022

[firstumcschenectady]

“The Only Way” based on  Isaiah 61:1-4 and Luke 4:21-30

I've been wondering about this story of Jesus being attacked on a cliff for as long as I can remember.  How did Jesus get out?  Perhaps because of Sunday School materials from my childhood, I have an image in my head of people fighting and kicking up a cloud of dust, out of which Jesus walks unscathed. Or, perhaps this really is the implication of the end of the story, “But he passed through the midst of them and went on his way.” (4:30)  🤷🏻‍♀️

The long standing question of “how did get out of such a dangerous situation” has often distracted me from a far simpler reality: this is a disturbing story.  Jesus is at home, a place we might think he would be particularly safe.  Jesus is speaking in the center of religious worship, a place we might hope would be particularly nonviolent.  Jesus is claiming the care of God for the people of God, to people who definitely knew God and needed care – a gift that we might hope would be well received.

Instead, they were “filled with rage. They got up, drove him out of the town, and led him to the brow of the hill on which their town was built, so that they might hurl him off the cliff.”  (4:28b-29) Now, I can analyze what was going on that made them so mad.  (Jesus claimed more “honor” than was his fair share, in a system where honor was a 0-sum game.) But in terms of the story being a disturbing one, it doesn't matter that much.  This attack on Jesus by his people, a potentially deadly attack, is just awful.

Scholars think Luke is using this story to foreshadow how Jesus' message will be received – that while some will listen and be moved, others will respond with violence to maintain the status quo.  And, that actually helps, because it brings into focus that the end of Jesus's life is really disturbing too.  I have never managed to come to iaece with capital punishment, and I find each instance of state-sponsored killing to be … well, a lot more than disturbing.  But let's stick with disturbing for a moment.

While I had the opportunity to regularly hear fantastic preachers as a kid, and had thoughtful Sunday School teachers and intentional Youth Group leaders, the US culture's basic atonement theory still penetrated my consciousness.  I grew up thinking that I was supposed to believe that “Jesus died for my sins” and, since that was something I was supposed to be grateful for, that meant that Jesus' death was … useful?  Good?  (You might think I'd avoid “good” but if so, consider “Good Friday.”)  

As I've grown, I've been blessed with spaciousness to consider what I really believe, and to question things that don't make sense to me. While I seek to extend that spaciousness to others, and respect differences in faith, for me that has meant leaving behind “Jesus died for my sins” and leaving in its place, “Jesus died because his movement threatened the power of the powerful and whenever I am complicit in protecting existent power structures, I am engaging in the same behavior that got him killed.”  (I'll admit, it has less of a ring to it.)

I've come back around to finding it disturbing that Jesus, who was a powerful prophet, a man of incredible morality, a truly amazing teacher, a notable healer, a wise mystic, AND a liberator of the oppressed was killed because of exactly those things.  In fact, I'm back to finding it disturbing when people are killed, and that includes those who are killed by state-sponsored violence.

So, this early narrative in Luke is a disturbing story that foreshadows a disturbing story, which end up bookending most of Jesus' ministry.  All that Jesus offers in teaching, healing, and empowering has over it the shadow of how threatening people find it to have systems disrupted.

Luke uses Isaiah's vision of someone acting on God's behalf to

bring good news to the oppressed,

bind up the broken-hearted,

proclaim liberty to the captives,

release to the prisoners;

proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor,

to comfort all who mourn;

repair the ruined cities, (etc)

and Luke notes, right from the get-go, that this vision of God and being one called upon to enact it is DANGEROUS work.

In the end, Jesus' untimely death was initiated by the powerful religious authorities, who thought that his movement threatened the well-being of the entire Jewish population.  It feels like a parallel to this story, where it seems that the hometown faithful were terrified by the implications of what Jesus was going to do.

They would all have been saying to Jesus, “Don't rock the boat!”  Now, “Don't rock the boat,” is very good advice for getting ahead in life, moving up ladders of institutional power, being generally well-liked, and... in lots of cases... surviving.  However, it turns out that it is not the Jesus way, and that means it isn't the way of Jesus followers either.

Jesus followed the path of nonviolence.  That one is a difficult path, but one that is abundant in grace and hope.  If we think about the work named in Isaiah 61, it becomes clear that this is profoundly nonviolent work.  Not only is the work itself NOT violent (a good starting point) but it is aimed at disentangling the power of violence that disrupts life itself.  

It is far too easy to ONLY take notice of direct, visible, physical violence – and miss all the other kinds.  Those of us who have been trained in Safe Sanctuaries were reminded that abuse itself can look like physical abuse, OR it can look like sexual abuse, OR it can look like emotional abuse, OR it can look like neglect.  Furthermore, violence can also look like the simple threat of violence that is used to keep people in check, even if it isn't regularly used.  

And, on top of that, violence can also be a wolf in sheep's clothing.   Violence includes allowing people to be hungry when there is abundant food – because some people don't “earn enough” to eat.  That's a violence that looks like societal neglect.  Violence looks like people not being able to get health care, or get access to necessary medication, or get life-saving treatment because of who they are or what they have.  That's a violence that kills, but more out of LACK of access than direct attacks.  Violence looks like campaigns to doctors to prescribe opiates, knowing they'd lead to addiction, knowing they'd lead to death – but choosing profit over lives. Violence looks like the laws we have that prevent people with convictions from being able to have places to live, or food to eat, or jobs to provide for their needs – even when convictions themselves have more to do with our “justice” system than they do with individual actions.

Or, to make this a little bit more concise, all forms of inequity and hierarchy are less visible forms of violence.  

So. Violence is a lot.

Which means that non-violence is a lot.

And, for those of you tuning in for the first time, Jesus led a movement of NON-VIOLENCE and to choose to be a Jesus follower is to choose the ways of NON-VIOLENCE.  

There was a fun note in the Social Science Commentary on the Synoptic Gospels1 that said, “an over-quick resort to violence is often an unintended public admission of failure.  In honor challenge, the party that first resorts to violence loses the exchange: a resort to violence indicates that wits have failed and bully tactics have taken over.”2 So part of what we're seeing in this story is that violence tries to take Jesus down, which itself proves Jesus right, and he does NOT resort to violence, but rather walks away from it.

And, then he spends his ministry as a non-violent religious leader who attempts to CHANGE the systems of oppression that are less visible forms of violence.  And then he invites us to follow him.

One of the most visible nonviolent religious followers of Jesus in recent times was Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King Jr, and The King Center continues to teach the principles and practices of non-violence.  I regularly reread them, and seek further education on nonviolence as a way of following Jesus and respecting the movement Dr. King was a part of.3 The King Center states, “The Triple Evils of POVERTY, RACISM and MILITARISM are forms of violence that exist in a vicious cycle.” and expands on what that means, as well as naming the principles of nonviolence and steps in nonviolent social change.  For example:

PRINCIPLE ONE: Nonviolence Is a Way of Life for Courageous People.

 It is not a method for cowards; it does resist.

It is active nonviolent resistance to evil.

It is aggressive spiritually, mentally, and emotionally.

I highly recommend the teachings of the King Center as further reading, for good living.

For this moment, however, I have a very pragmatic suggestion about nonviolence.  I have seen that there are HIGH levels of angst and anxiety pretty much everywhere right now.  I'm told others have noticed this too, and it is often being seen via emotional outbursts at strangers (particularly ones who work in some form of customer service) or at loved ones (because that's where we most often let go of steam).  

I believe that one of the most powerful tools of nonviolence is COMPASSION, and I believe it is needed in TWO directions.  One direction is towards others who are struggling, with a hope that we might respond with calm, caring, empathy when others need it.  The other is towards ourselves – which is BOTH how we gain the capacity to respond with calm to others AND how we work towards fewer outbursts of our own.

This week a fellow clergy person asked for help in dealing with her pent up anger, and asked clergy sisters how they do it.  The responses were so helpful:  exercise!  Therapy!  Throwing things that are safe to throw and not at anything living!  Medicine!  Screaming!  …. and also self compassion.  (I was asked, I answered.)  To deal with anger, for me, means I need to know what is under it – what value I hold or need I have is being violated, so I can figure out how I want to respond.4

Although, sometimes before I can get to dealing with the anger, I have to do the work of admitting that I'm angry, and to do that I take the advice of Thich Naht Hahn, and breath in “I'm angry” and breath out “I'm angry” until I get the sense that the anger has been acknowledged.  Then I can look at the why under the anger.  

We can't build God's kindom without doing it nonviolently.  

Violence isn't going to get us to nonviolent justice.  And to be nonviolent is WORK. It takes INTENTION, and PRACTICE, and COMMUNITY, and heaps of GRACE.  It means we are constantly working on it, in ourselves and with each other.  It means every moment is an opportunity to try again.

The world responded with violence to God's vision of nonviolence, and to Jesus' teachings of justice.  But Jesus responded with the power of nonviolence anyway, and it turns out that was enough so that we're still here, following in his way, 2000 years later.  Nonviolence isn't the fastest way, but it is the only way.  May God help us along our way.  Amen

As we all grow and learn, we're trying to learn how to listen to the lessons of our emotions AND learn how to allow our emotions space to be our teachers WITHOUT letting them hurt us or others.  May God help us learn those lessons.  Amen

1I'm well aware that my sermons could be set up as Bingo games, with this book being one of the squares, Walter Brueggemann being another, etc.  Just acknowledging reality here.

2 Bruce J. Malina and Richard L. Rohrbaugh Social-Science Commentary on the Synoptic Gospels (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 2003) “Textual Notes: Mark 1:21-34” p. 244.

3 https://thekingcenter.org/about-tkc/the-king-philosophy/

4 https://workcollaboratively.files.wordpress.com/.../wc...)

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 6, 2022

[firstumcschenectady]

“The Narrow Way” based on Psalm 148 and Luke 2:41-52

Jesus was a pretty radical figure, maybe. I can't always tell. On the one hand he messed with some really basic parts of religious norms of his day – like Sabbath keeping, and marriage laws, and the sanctity of the temple, and tithing. But on the other hand, all of what he taught can be found within the Jewish religious tradition of his day. He is a prophet calling people back to fidelity to God's vision for a society who takes care of all people – just one doing it in the context of his own day.

As I try to figure out if Jesus was a radical or not, it becomes clear that the actual crux of it all is that following our God is a radical act, and that's true throughout our tradition as well as in our lives. I read the Bible with a bias towards the narrative about Sabbath and distributive justice. (John Dominic Crossan suggests there are two major themes. That's one, and a covenant / reward / punishment theme is the other. They're interspersed in the Bible, but have very different worldviews.)

To seek to follow God's ways, which are about distributive justice, adequate rest for all, and seeing the Divine Spark in every ONE and all of creation. And, it is a radical act to do so from within “domination systems” that prioritize some lives over the lives of others, and take the work of the many to enrich the few. I'm sometimes more than a little distressed to notice that the difference between Jesus's time and ours is that he lived in a “pre-industrial agricultural domination system”1and we live in a post-industrial non-agricultural domination system. Both systems are maintained by violence and the threat of violence, exploit the poor for the sake of the very few on top, silence the many, and use religion to legitimize the exploitation.

So, in the face of the domination systems, God's kindom of equitable distribution of rest, of labor, of food, of clothing, of shelter, of healthcare, and of education is RADICAL in the extreme. Anyway, I'm thinking about all of this because we have in our Gospel Lesson today a presentation of Jesus at age twelve being more than a little bit of a smarty-pants, but also showing that he UNDERSTOOD the point of following God. The story says he amazed the religious teachers of the day, and claimed the center of the faith tradition as his place in the world. This is, of course, a story told by later generations who were seeking to make sense of the wisdom of Jesus, but as a story overloaded with metaphor and meaning, it is definitely worth further examination.

The piece that often strikes me in this story is that it affirms once again how religiously faithful Jesus's parents were. The travel to Jerusalem from Nazareth wasn't minor, and doing it every year constituted a real burden. But those who were thinking about how Jesus came to be Jesus really believed that he had to emerge from a family deeply established in God-worship and God-living. Luke's story does this in so many ways, and I tend to agree. The ways that Jesus spoke and reflected on the scripture of his own tradition, the faithfulness to the Holy One that he lived, and the teachings he offered could only come from someone who grew up steeped in faithful Judaism, AND in the difference between God's vision and the world's domination systems.

This year, perhaps because the First Sunday of Christmas is the day after Christmas, and the stories are all smooshed together in my head, I'm struck that this story about Jesus as a young wisdom teacher in the Jewish tradition comes very soon after Luke's story of his mother at a similar age singing the Magnificat, and showing the depth of HER understanding of God's radical ways. These 12 year olds are both said to know the faithful wisdom of the ages, and I think that's intentional, because how could Jesus become Jesus unless his mother was as faithful and wise as she is presented as being.

We also have the repetition in this story that Mary, “treasured all these things in her heart.” (2:51a) which we also heard in verse 19, after the shepherds told their story, “But Mary treasured all these words and pondered them in her heart.” I've recently been reminded to look more holistically at Mary's story. She agrees to bear the Messiah, even when it risks her life. Or, perhaps, she survives sexual violence, and gets pregnant, and then has to find a way forward with her son. And then, it seems, she has to figure out how to feed him, and how to keep him alive, and how to teach him about oppression while teaching him about nonviolence, and how to trust God. And, then in the end, she is said to watch him die. Mary's life is incredibly faithful, but almost never easy, it seems. Her wisdom, her faith, her trust in God define her life, and become the background of the teachings of Jesus, but they don't protect her from harm.

That's true of Jesus too, but sometimes it seems like maybe he had more choice in the matter. He remained faithful to God and God's teaching even when it was clear it would result in his death by the hands of the Empire. He could have stopped, right? I don't know. But I think maybe his mother's child couldn't stop as long as anyone lived under oppression.

From where I sit, it isn't always clear what decisions are following in the ways of God's vision / Mary's faith / Jesus's life and what decisions are following in the ways of the domination system. It would be so nice if it were always clear, but life is muddy. Maybe that's why the adult Jesus taught in parables. The answers aren't in black and white, they're in the struggle to find the meaning of the story in the context of the day and in the context of our day. The systems change, but God's vision remains. And those who are faithful to it still seek wisdom to live the kindom and bring it further into being. The two systems are hard to disentangle rather on purpose – it benefits the domination system to look “righteous” and it tries hard to look like God's way.

I think this is why following God's way is sometimes called the “narrow way” - it is less traveled, and harder to find. Sometimes we get lost trying to find it. And yet, I deeply believe, worth seeking and walking or rolling on it. I think it is even worth the times we are lost.

In this Christmas season, may we commit again to following in God's radical ways, to traveling the narrow path, and to seeking them with our lives. Amen

1 Marcus Borg, Jesus: Uncovering the Life, Teachings, and Relevance of a Religious Revolutionary (New York: HarperCollins, 2006).

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 26, 2021

[firstumcschenectady]

“Soft Eyes and Third Ways” based on Zephaniah 3:14-20 and Luke 3:7-18

As a matter of faith, whenever it is possible, I believe in refusing the binary and looking for a third way. I believe God is creative, I believe in win-wins, and I believe more goodness is possible than I can anticipate.

You, in this church, have affirmed this belief for me time, and time again. You have found third ways, you have shown me third ways, you have stayed with each other long enough to see past seeming binaries and found the shared values underneath. I believed this when I came here, intellectually, but I believe it in my body and soul now.

A few years ago, at a retreat, we did an exercise called “soft eyes.” It looked and sounded ridiculous. We were broken into sets of three, and one at a time each of us was asked to stand tall while the other two pulled as hard as they could on the arms of the person standing. However, each of us did this three different ways. First, we fought as hard as we could against the pressure. It was overwhelming. Then we just, let go, and let the pressure take us down. It was demoralizing. But, finally, we let the pressure come without fighting it. And, all of a sudden, the pressure felt like a good stretch. It was possible to withstand the pulling, and stand tall, indefinitely.

We then compared that to staring at something as hard as we could, to glancing and looking away, and to looking, but letting our eyes soften and see “through” what we looked at. This is third way stuff. This is refusing “all or nothing” thinking, and engaging in “both/and” thinking.

This is important, more now than ever. We have learned that our society has been under attack for quite some time by foreign countries that want to destabilize us by fanning the flames of cultural difference. We have also learned that social media sites, our email providers, our phones, and our web browsers are tracking our every move to try to understand us and our perspectives in order to make money off of us. And, they've discovered, telling us things that make us angry, and creating “us versus them” thinking (binaries!) is really great for business.

There is significant but mostly invisible pressure on us to enter into binaries and disregard the humanity of people on the other side. But, our faith teaches us that our shared humanity, the sacredness of every person that derives directly from God, is definitional. We seek to connect, not to disconnect. We seek to understand, not to dismiss. We seek to love, not to hate.

This is counter-cultural work, and it is emotionally challenging work. It is hard to be creative and find the third way, and it is nearly impossible when we're riddled with anxiety or anger. It is hard to slow down and figure out what's really going on, so a new solution might emerge, when everything feels urgent. And, too, it is hard to care when so much of what is live-giving and wonderful about life isn't available right now.

As I hear Luke telling us about the preaching of John the Baptist though, I'm struck that in his shocking ways, he calls us to exactly this sort of work. John calls the ones who have come to hear him “a brood of vipers” which was super insulting, and not how polite people spoke to each other. I notice that it is a violent image. Vipers are a danger to life.

I also notice that John the Baptist calls out three groups of people, and they're surprising. First he calls out anyone wealthy enough to have more than enough. Two coats, more food than they need. That feels like a pretty low standard of wealth, but since many people in that day (and ours) weren't sufficiently clothed and even more didn't have enough nourishment, anyone with too much was seen as hoarding what others needed. Then he calls out tax collectors and soldiers, and that feels REALLY weird to me. Of course, Jesus will do some work with a tax collector too, but both tax collectors and soldiers – in an occupied state – were part of the system of oppression that kept the poor in poverty and used their labor to enrich the already rich.

And John the Baptist doesn't tell any of these people that they have to quit their jobs or change everything about their lives. He JUST tells them that they need to stop hurting other people. Take the two cloaks, give one way. Take the extra food, give it away. Don't take more tax money than what you have to, even if you are allowed to. And, don't extort people or act out violently against them. Take what you have and let it be enough, even if other people have more.

That is... refuse to participate in oppression, which in essence is refusing to participate in violence because violence takes a lot of forms and one of them is keeping food from those who need it to live.

This theme unites John the Baptist and the one he would baptize, Jesus. They created movements of people who refused to participate in violence. Their words and actions echo through the ages, asking us to do the same.

What does non- violence look like? Well, it is seemingly simple and difficult enough to engage us for our whole lives – like faith. For some it takes on pacifism, a big one. But it also is in the little every day things. It looks like intentionality with words we use and don't use. It is in how we treat those in our households, and those in our inner circles, and those in our church family. It over looks like speaking in “I-statements” and taking responsibility for our emotions, and thinking more than once before we pass along information that we don't know to be true. And, it means not kicking people when they're down – OR UP. It means paying attention to our buying habits and how people were treated when they made the things we buy. It means paying attention to investments if we're lucky enough to have them, and considering which companies are engaged in violence. Perhaps most challengingly, it also means treating ourselves without violence, including in the ways we speak to ourselves inside ourselves!

AND it means disengaging from binaries, and finding deeper truths about people, groups, and ways forward.

One big piece of refusing to participate in violence is engaging in compassion. Letting compassion take a bigger and bigger space in our lives. Learning how to be compassionate to ourselves and then letting that extend to others and then letting that expand even further.

And I'm here to tell you that this is really, really hard, and I don't particularly enjoy it. My heart is more tender than it used to be, and the brokenness everywhere hurts me more than it used to, and it constantly threatens to overwhelm me.

But that same exercise on “soft eyes” and letting pulling turn into stretching was fundamentally about standing in the “tragic gap” between what IS and what SHOULD be, and letting it break us open without letting it break us. Because there are (at least) three ways to respond to the suffering around us. We can ignore it and push it away because it is too hard, but that doesn't change anything. We can let it in and let it break us, but that actually doesn't change anything either except that there is a little more brokenness. OR, we can let the brokenness break us open, and be present to it without drowning in it.

This is what we aim for, and we'll fail both ways much of the time. But, on this third Sunday of Advent, I want to be sure to remind all of us about what can keep us upright in the Tragic Gap, and how we can be with brokenness without breaking, and let compassion hurt but not drown us.

There are two keys to this: God, and joy. They're related. (Pretty deeply.) Finding spiritual practices that get you centered are imperative to life-long kindom building. They keep us upright. They keep us compassionate. They also tell us when it is time to take breaks. AND they keep reminding us that there is ALSO joy.

We live in a broken AND beautiful world. There is violence AND wonder.

An article I read in The Atlantic this week suggested thinking of things you used to do just because you liked them, and figuring out what you liked about them, in order to find what you might like doing now. This was intended to apply to those of us who have forgotten how to play and have fun.1

Let joy in. Play! Laugh! Have fun! Giggle if you possibly can. Fill yourself up. It is good in and of itself to enjoy life, AND it is NECESSARY to have joy in order to be able to do the work to build the kindom, a place of profound joy. We can't build it if we don't know it, we need to have joy to make space for joy. So dear ones seek God and joy... they matter on their own and they help us be compassionate and nonviolent. Thanks be to God for joy! Amen

1https://www.theatlantic.com/ideas/archive/2021/12/how-care-less-about-work/620902/

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 12, 202