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firstumcschenectady · 25 days

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“Hosanna” based on Psalm 118:1-4, 19-24 and Matthew 21:1-11

Within Christianity, we use “Hosanna” to express joy, and praise, and adoration. Just one little issue with that – the actual meaning of the word. Hosanna is a Hebrew word meaning “Save us, we pray!” The people around Jesus weren't shouting “Great is God” or “Jesus is good!” or “YAY, Jesus, YAY God!” Instead, they were shouting, “God, save us from our oppressor” which was clearly the Roman Empire, who – let's be honest – didn't appreciate that. “God, help us, the enemy is bigger than we can take on ourselves.” “God, we're in over our heads, help us out here!”

And, of course, they were shouting, “Save us, we pray” during a PASSOVER celebration, when Passover celebrates God's actions in saving the people from oppression in Egypt, which made the Roman Empire's representatives a “little bit” antsy.

The Roman Empire's representative Pontius Pilate was already coming to the city, like he did every year at Passover, with soldiers and fanfare meant to keep the Jewish people in check. The Roman Empire saw QUITE CLEARLY that getting a whole bunch of people together in the city to celebrate God's acts of freeing them from oppression was a tinderbox for revolt, and they sought to tamp it down with displays of power and reminders of their violent capacity. In fact, they came in from Pilate's normal abode on the Mediterranean – so from the West. With gleaming horses, and banners with the golden Eagle of Rome, with drums and the crowds shouting “Hail Caesar, son of God; Praise be to the Savior who brought the Roman Peace; Caesar is Lord….” the Empire sought to intimidate people out of revolt.

But.

Then there was Jesus. Jesus who seems to have let the crowd claim kingship of Ancient Israel on his behalf, which sometimes feels a little bit strange but is in the story nonetheless. The Palm branches were a flag of Israel- the opposite of the Golden Eagle. The donkey was expected to be ridden by the Messiah entering the city – but also is rather opposite a gleaming horse. The soldiers accompanied Pilate – while a large crowd of people impoverished by the Empire accompanied Jesus. And Instead of “Hail Caesar” the people shouted “God Save Us (from the empire).”

The Roman Empire took this Jesus parade as a significant threat.

I believe they were meant to. The protest made the violence of the Empire stand out. They crucified Jesus with the accusation “King of the Jews” above his head, as if this was the charge against him. And, after all, they shouldn't have killed the leader of a PEACEFUL revolt, only a violent one. But sometimes the authorities have a hard time telling the difference between violence and what scares them. (Still true today.)

Then, of course, Jesus did another PEACEFUL demonstration – this time managing to make visible the ways the Empire had put in place Temple leaders who were aligned with Empire and not God's people. That one many of us learned as the “Cleansing of the Temple.” John Dominic Crossan reflects on the “den of robbers” the Temple is said to be saying, “Notice, by the way, that a 'den' is not where robbers do their robbing but where they flee for safety with the spoils they have robbed elsewhere.” (God and Empire, 133.)

Jesus made clear the city of Jerusalem was where “conservative religion and imperial oppression – had become serenely complicit.” (131) And, he dies for it. Crossan says, “He did not go to get himself killed or to get himself martyred. Mark insists that Jesus knew in very specific detail what was going to happen to him – read Mark 10:33-34, for example – but that is simply Marks' way of insisting that all was accepted by both God and Jesus. Accepted, be it noted, but not willed, wanted, needed or demanded.” (131)

Beloveds, this Palm Sunday parade is one of the most brilliant acts of non-violent direct action I've ever heard of, but it is part of the story of why the Empire responded with violence. I can't hear the Palm Sunday story without knowing that it walks us to the Good Friday Crucifixion and the Holy Saturday grief and disillusion. They're all a part of this one story – that when you make clear the ways people are oppressing others, there is a fierce lash-back and the power of violence is immense. Thank God, that isn't the whole story – we get to Easter next week – but it is a real story, one that we can't dismiss.

This year, the Palm Sunday parade that walks Jesus into Jerusalem sounds terrifyingly like Nex Benedict walking into school on their last day. I can't separate out Jesus being faithful to God despite the consequences from gender-queer and non-binary people claiming their space in the world – despite the consequences. But, friends, it is sickening.

There is a story out there, one that says people are supposed to stay in tight little conformist boxes that help others make sense of the world and, heavens, the VIOLENCE that comes out when people speak up and say, “this box doesn't fit me.” And it can be such small stuff:

I'm a woman, but the box “quiet and gentle” doesn't fit me

I'm a man, but the box “stoic” doesn't' fit me

I'm a woman, but the box “looking for a man” doesn't' fit me

I'm a man, but the box “looking for a woman” doesn't' fit me

… the box “wants to have kids” doesn't fit me

… the box “monogamy” doesn't fit me

… the box “woman” doesn't fit me

… the box “man” doesn't fit me

… the box “gendered” doesn't fit me.

And, I mean, you all know this but... WHO CARES? They're all just silly little made up boxes that no one should be forced into and everyone should have the space to occupy, or adapt or not occupy as they see fit? Sure, some people want the world to be black and white without shades of gray – that everyone is cis-gendered, straight, sexual, and single raced ;) But, too bad because that's just not true.

And yet, the violence that comes when people try to force others back into the boxes they think they should live in – it reminds me of the violence of empire. There seem to be gleaming horses, loud drums, and shiny swords all over the place. And, worse, it isn't just the external violence that attacks people – the very people who are brave enough to leave their ill-fitting boxes behind end up internalizing the violence. They're courageous, they're clear, they know who they are and they won't go back to pretending to be otherwise – but that violence is so darn insidious, and it gets inside them. Those silly stories about how we're supposed to be are so poisonous. That human need for connection gets twisted around and turned against people. And the beautiful ones who are brave and unique and wonderful end up dead.

Jesus could have stayed out of Jerusalem, except he couldn't.

Nex could have pretend to have their gender assigned at birth, except they couldn't.

They couldn't. It would have been safer, easier, …. some would say wiser. But they couldn't.

Friends, as you know, the trans and queer communities around the country and world are aching for Nex and Nex's family and friends. Their death has reminded people of prior losses, of other brave and beautiful souls who also internalized the violence against them. The heartbreaks are everywhere.

This holy week, we will worship through the blessings of Jesus, the death of Jesus, the heartbreak of the disciples, and land on the wondrous reality that God's work can't be stopped by violence or death.

But how do we make sense of Nex? And the ones before them? And the ones after them? How do face the violence of the Empire today, and the ways it gets internalized?

There aren't easy asnwers.

We grieve.

And we share the aches with God.

And we name the problems with each other.

And we keep on learning how to undercut the broken narrative, and break open little boxes, and keep people safe when they leave them.

We aren't going to do it fast enough – we already haven't, but just because we can't do it immediately doesn't mean we can stop. Jesus showed us the power of violence to stop people, and the ways religion can become complicit with violence. And he paid for it, paid to teach us those lessons. But we have them! So, we know that God and love are more powerful than violence, and love is the way we respond. And we know that religion that oppresses isn't religion at all, and we shout it from the rooftops.

Hosanna.

God save us.

We pray.

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

March 24, 2024

#thinking church #progressive christianity #fumc schenectady #first umc schenectady #schenectady #umc #sorry about the umc #rev sara e baron #lent #Hosanna!

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firstumcschenectady · 2 months

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“We Hope for What We Do Not See” based on Jonah 2 and Romans 8:18-25

Despite my enjoyment of the “Who Did” song1, I haven't preached about Jonah often. I may even have groaned when I looked at the texts for this week – even though I was the one to pick the essay from “We Cry Justice” and the accompanying recommended scriptures. I fear, though, that my avoidance of this text is unjustified.

Because, the issues I have are really quite silly. Here we go:

Whales don't eat people. Nor do large fish.

Stomachs have acid, but not a lot of air, making them uninhabitable

You know, stuff like that.

But it turns out that taking a story literally and objecting to the pragmatic details is a really great way to miss powerful symbolism and deeper meaning within a story. So dismissing this story has only had the impact of keeping me from attending to the wisdom it has.

Which I noticed when I actually read the 2nd chapter of the book of Jonah, which is rather surprising. You may recall that in the first chapter Jonah was asked to to to Nineveh and tries to run away instead, gets on a ship going in the other direction, a storm comes up, Jonah suggests that the storm is God's way of saying he isn't listening, he suggests he be thrown into the sea, the sailors try not to do so, but finally they throw him in hoping the rest of them will live, and the storm quiets and the sailors are converted.... and then the whale did swallow Jonah. Down. ;)

So, given that chapter 2 is a prayer of Jonah from inside the whale, I think there would be just cause to assume that the prayer is either a lament that God put him in this horrid situation OR a plea for help, a request for forgiveness that results in Jonah being released from said whale? Right?

But it isn't. The prayer of chapter 2 is a prayer of THANKSGIVING, whereby Jonah seems to have already concluded that the whale is a means of salvation, and is thanking God for God's gracious actions. And that's a place where I noticed that there is something useful in this story, because … well, I'm not sure I'd have gotten there.

I think that if I had a sense of God asking me to do something I vehemently didn't want to do, that resulted in my very near drowning, and then gasping for air inside an enormous beast I couldn't talk to or control, I'd have missed the memo that said enormous beast was a gift from God. Really. I mean, maybe, 3 days in, hungry, thirsty, and still wet but shockingly alive I might have figured it out, but that's even kind of doubtful.

But Jonah's prayer starts with “I called to the Lord in my distress and [God] answered me.”(NRSV 2a) So, it seems like he got it immediately. (We're working with symbolism here people, let go of any assumption of factuality and let a good story be a good story.) And, the prayer is even specific, “The waters closed over me; the deep surrounded me; weeds were wrapped around my head...yet you brought up my life from the Pit, O LORD my God.” (5,6d)

Wow. Jonah is sinking to the bottom of the sea, hopeless, and helpless, and then experiences God as lifting him up from the place of death, of bringing LIFE out of DEATH. And, I'm kinda familiar with THAT metaphor, right? But this is a different angle on it.

For me, the incongruities of life in the belly of the whale finally recede to make space for the questions of life and faith. When have we been floating down to the bottom of the sea, out of air, and out of hope? There are a lot of possible answers to that, right? And our lives are different, so our answers are different. Grief can feel like sinking to the bottom of the sea– anticipatory grief and the utter horror of waking up and realizing someone you love isn't there Depression can feel like sinking to the bottom of the sea. Job loss and financial hardship can feel like sinking to the bottom of the sea. Loss of relationship. Abuse. Illness. Injury. Car accidents. Becoming unhoused. Failing. Flailing. A lot can feel like sinking to the bottom of the sea.

And what was the thing that picked you and kept you alive when you could no longer do so for yourself? Who or what was the whale? Was a phone call from a friend who cared? The arrival of flowers? The long, hard, careful work of a therapist? An unexpected welcome? An offer you couldn't have anticipated? The life restoring work of first responded and medical professionals? Someone showing you the ropes you couldn't figure out on your own? A good Samaritan?

How long did it take you to realize that you weren't at the bottom of the sea anymore, and you could breath (if only a little bit), and there might be a hope for dry land again someday? Was it immediate? Did it take 3 days, 3 weeks, 3 years?

I wonder, if sometimes the darkness at the bottom of the sea is so scary that we block out the memory of it, but with it we then block the memory of being scooped up. Especially because being eaten by a whale does NOT immediately seem like rescue. Right!?! At the bottom of the sea, one condolence card can't really make a difference – except sometimes it can. Sometimes knowing that someone else grieves with you, or sees you, or can share a memory that gives you a new story about a person you loved – sometimes that can be the whale.

Several years ago during a stewardship campaign, I was gifted the task of asking participants in some of our ministries what our ministries meant to them. As previously mentioned, I have a problematic tendency to be overly pragmatic, and while I delight in our breakfast program, I'm aware that it offers 1 meal out of an wished for 21 for a week. However, our guests assured me that the 1 meal matters.

Similarly, at that time we had Sustain Ministry, where we gave out soap and toilet paper, feminine hygiene products, and diapers to those who needed them. (Note: other organizations now do this work – thank God – and the need we were responding to then has changed.) I asked those waiting if they'd be willing to be interviewed, and I asked them why what we did mattered. One woman said that the resources we offered made the difference for her between being able to take care of her kids on her own and being financially forced back into an abusive relationship.

I loved Sustain ministry, but I thought it just made things a little easier for people whose lives were really hard. I didn't know it was whale picking someone out of the bottom of the sea.

In the fall of 2021, after about a year and a half of ministry during a pandemic, while adjusting to being a new parent, and with a few other significant stressors in my work life, I was a hairsbreadth away from leaving ministry. Truthfully, I had been, on and off, for 2 years by that point. More so, I didn't really know it. I knew I was really tired. I knew I felt like my ministry didn't matter. I knew every day of work was a fight, and I didn't want to fight anymore. But I actually didn't know I was near the bottom of the sea in my work, until our District Superintendent looked at me and said, “what you've dealt with isn't normal, you need a break. How long do you want? I'll find coverage and money to pay for it.” She was the whale, or maybe the 8 weeks I took off were. Maybe both? Let's go with both.

Sometimes I still meet people who know that I took that break – the announcement of it was shockingly popular on YouTube- and I watch them carefully dance around asking me if I'm still a pastor, or still a pastor here, or really what I do in the world now. They're often shocked to learn I'm still in ministry and grateful for it. (That's fair, a whole lot of people have exited ministry since then.) I continue to think I have a lot to learn to be in ministry in life-giving and sustainable ways, but the way I knew I still wanted to be a pastor and YOUR pastor was that once the day-to-day pressures were relieved, I found myself dreaming of what we could do together, and missing you. I'm been in those weeds at the bottom of the sea, pastorally, but I just needed some gulps of fresh air to be able to find the dry land. I'm really thankful there was a whale. And, yet, I didn't know how important the whale was when it arrived.

Romans 8 speaks of hope particularly directly, reconsidering the struggles of people and the world as labor pains of the kindom of God being born. While I don't want to sanctify the pains or struggles of the world, it would be really great if they were productive like that. If they mattered, and made new things possible. The essay from “We Cry Justice” today talks about the pain of ecological destruction, and the power of the people to stop horrible decisions, EVEN when money is on the other side. That people, together, have power. Which is a good example of the ways that the pain of the earth can become motivation for healing the earth. It is a way that pains can be labor pains.

Romans 8 also speaks famously about hope. “Now hope that is seen is not hope. For who hopes for what is seen? But if we hope for what we do not see, we wait for it with patience.” None of us can see the whale coming when we're at the bottom of the sea. Nor, even, could we know it is a saving whale if we did. But hope involves knowing that God is with us, and God is creative, and there ARE whales sometimes, and we can BE whales sometimes, and no matter what happens, we know a God who brings life - again and again.

Dear ones, sometimes God sends whales when we are at the bottom of the sea. Thank God. Amen

1For the uninformed: https://www.lyrics.com/lyric/10499923/100+Singalong+Songs+for+Kids/Who+Did+%28Swallow+Jonah%29%3F

February 25, 2024

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

#thinking church #progressive christianity #fumc schenectady #first umc schenectady #schenectady #umc #sorry about the umc #rev sara e baron #lent #hope #Jonah #Who did?#Whale did

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