Saturday, November 11, 2017

A Failure to Plan Ahead

Matthew 25:1-13
November 12, 2017
32nd Sunday in Ordinary Time (A)
William G. Carter

One summer, my sister returned from church camp with a new song. She tried to teach it to us, but my mom already knew it from her own former days at camp, a generation before. In any case, it's a song that you may know. It goes like this:

Give me oil for my lamp, keep me burning, burning, burning,
Give me oil for my lamp, I pray;
Give me oil for my lamp, keep me burning, burning, burning,
Keep me burning to the break of day.

When you're a teenager, the song suggests resources for your energy level. You want oil for your lamp so you can stay up all night, And when you gain access to the family car keys, you want gas for your tank, too.  You hope you’ll never run out of either one.

Maybe that's why the very next verse goes on to say, “Give me umption for my gumption, help me function, function, function.”

It wasn't until later that I learned the song was based on the Bible story we heard a minute ago. "Once upon a time," Jesus tells us, "there were ten bridesmaids waiting for a party to start. Five were wise and had enough fuel to get them through a crisis, and five were foolish enough to run out of oil."

Anybody who learns the difference between the five wise and the five foolish will know what to ask for:  “Give me oil for my lamp, keep me burning, burning, burning.” All things considered, that's a pretty good thing to ask for.

Many of the parables of Jesus have a surprising twist in the plot. But this is not one of them. In other parables, there's a strange turn of events that reveals a new shift or perspective. But in a parable like this one, what you see is what you get. The plot simply runs its course. 

Those who are wise continue to be wise. Those who are not, do not. There is no change in character, no conversion of attitude. So when the crisis comes, all are exposed for what they are: wise or foolish.

This is how the Gospel of Matthew views the judgment of God. t is a crucial moment when all things are revealed and the truth is known about everybody. In that moment, there will be no more excuses, no more half-truths,      no more grading on the curve. Instead all things will be revealed as they really are.

In the story we heard a few minutes ago, a bridegroom takes his sweet old time to arrive at a party, a party that was held partially in his honor. That's the event which exposes the truth

Now we don’t know much about wedding customs of first-century Palestine. But we know enough to realize we can't blame those ten bridesmaids for sleeping.  Before the wedding party could start, the bridegroom went door to door in the village, talking to friends, shaking hands, kissing babies, and receiving congratulations.

It's curious that the story never mentions the bride. Maybe she went with him. Or maybe she didn't. 

In any case, the bridesmaids stood watch for the new husband. When the groom came into view, somebody would shout. Everybody would cheer. Then he would enter the family home, and the party would begin, more or less on time.

However the bridegroom in this story was running a little bit late. Maybe he had a lot of friends, a lot of hands to shake and babies to kiss, or a lot of places to go and people to see and gifts to receive.

Maybe he's like a friend of mine who recently got married sometime back. “It was going to be a small, intimate service,” he said, and then they invited 350 people. It took him forever to finish working the crowd. Some of us were yawning and nodding off by the time the party got rolling. Who could blame us? It had nothing to do with our character. We were simply tired.

When the writer of Matthew reported this story, I'll bet people in his church understood what he meant. A lot of them had begun to fall asleep. Matthew's Gospel was written about the year 80 A.D. It was 50 years after the death and resurrection of Jesus, 50 years after he promised to return. Jesus was nowhere in sight. 

So where was he? Why didn't he come as he said he would? Obviously the Bridegroom was delayed. He has people to see and places to go. If he isn't here yet, he must be busy. The party will have to wait. In fact, the last time anybody checked, we're still waiting for the party to start.

This parable gives us a picture of what it's like to live under the dominion of God. The kingdom of God is like a group of people who are waiting for a party to begin. Some of them keep their wits about them. Others are just plain silly. The invitation is issued to both kinds of people, regardless of whether they are wise or foolish.                    
It takes an eternity for the banquet to begin, so everybody eventually falls asleep.  Don’t miss that detail: everybody falls asleep! Yet in the crucial moment, the bridegroom arrives, and everybody wakes wake up. I do believe it says they all wake up. But only the wise ones have what it takes to get in the door of that party.

In the most recent Star Wars movie, the final scene is filmed on some tiny islands off the coast of Ireland. Long before Luke Skywalker hid out there, those islands, the Skellig islands, were the location of an ancient Christian monastery. They are about eight miles offshore. You land there, tie up your boat, and climb up 700 feet of cliffs.

An order of Christian monks built the place and lived there for 700 years. One day, the entire climbed into their boats and rowed away, never to return. One of my friends toured there, and she scratched her head when she heard the tale. Here is what she wrote, as she reflected on the strange disappearance:

No one knows why they left, but it seems entirely possible to me that they just got tired of waiting. Seven hundred years is a long time to watch the horizon for the coming of the Lord. It is a long time to say your prayers and keep your fasts and live in disciplined community with one another, especially when word reaches you that those on the mainland have made some changes. They are eating better and sleeping later than you are. They have decided they can be in the world a little more without being of it, especially since it looks like they are in for a longer wait than anyone had expected.[1]

"Once upon a time, there were ten bridesmaids waiting for the wedding reception to begin." Why would we consider five of these bridesmaids wise?
·         It wasn't their expectation of the bridegroom: all ten of them expected him to arrive.
·         It had nothing to do with staying awake: no, the parable says all ten of them fell asleep.
·         It wasn't the fact that they woke up when the bridegroom was announced: again, all ten of them woke up.
·         No, there was only one thing that distinguished between who was wise and who was foolish: namely, whether or not they were ready for the long delay.
           
The bridegroom took his sweet, old time to get to the party. The ones who were wise were prepared to endure a long wait. They had enough oil to keep their lamps burning, burning, burning.

As another preacher says,  

The wise ones in the church are those who are prepared for the delay, who hold onto the faith deep into the night, who, even though they see no bridegroom coming, still serve and hope and pray and wait for the promised victory of God. [2]

It raises a good question for you and me: do we have enough resources for our faith to keep burning over the long haul?

I’ve been here long enough to see this is a town where a lot of people pass through. They come and go. On the face of it, they are mobile. People here keep moving. But is there any sense in which they are rooted? That they are connected to something deep and grounded? That they belong to something larger than themselves? Or are they merely consuming their way through the suburbs? If so, it’s awfully easy to run out of fuel.

In a town like this, where there’s a good measure of affluence, there are many people who just keep spending, and think that’s going to give them happiness. It can become a shallow existence, and can lull a lot of people to sleep. I’ve met plenty of folks who simply grew tired of chasing after one thing after another, so they retreat

Or maybe there’s something we support, something we really believe in, some initiative that promises to improve human lives, so we sink some time and energy into making it happen. And it does happen – at least for a while. But then it might run out of gas, or dwindle in energy, or lose its luster because it’s familiar. So the temptation is to back off to avoid further disappointment, to play it safe, and to nurse our wounds.

For a church like ours, we have to sink our roots into what is eternally important, and not merely chase after the latest fad or the quickest fix. Last month, when we were celebrating the anniversary of the Reformation, somebody questioned why we weren’t pursuing something more fresh, hip, or new. My response: “We are working on a business plan that’s 500 years old. Most of the newer start-up groups will last only as long as their founding pastor.”  In a suburb where a lot of faces change and businesses come and go, it's up to us to stand for something eternal and long-lasting.

I’m talking about a faith that intends to stick at it for the long haul. In the chaotic decade of the 1960’s, with the war in Viet Nam lingering on abroad, and the civil rights struggle revealing the dry rot at home, the Presbyterians put a statement of what they believed to be true. The closing paragraph has always moved my soul. It goes like this:

Already God’s reign is present as a ferment in the world, stirring (human) hope and preparing the world to receive its ultimate judgment and redemption. With an urgency born of this hope, the church applies itself to present tasks and strives for a better world. It does not identify limited progress with the kingdom of God on earth, nor does it despair in the face of disappointment and defeat. In steadfast hope, the church looks beyond all partial achievement to the final triumph of God.[3]

So we pray, for the strength to keep going is always a gift from God, and not merely one of our own exhaustible resources. And we read the Bible, to sharpen our vision for what God desires for heaven and earth, trying to align ourselves with those purposes in what we do and say. And we keep gathering for worship every week, to wean ourselves from the empty promises of the world and to trade them in for the real promises of the Gospel. And we support one another as a Christian community, because it’s all too possible for any of us to lose sight of what’s important and to lose energy in pursuing it.

Give me oil for my lamp, keep me burning, burning, burning,
Keep me burning to the break of day.

That’s our prayer, that’s our hope, and that’s ultimately our joy. We want to see Christ the Bridegroom. We want to welcome him every time he comes into our midst, and to be ready to embrace the moment when he comes for the last time. And through the work of our hands and hearts, we want his work to continue, ever reconciling this wounded world to the healing power of his grace.

Christ’s saving of the world will be no quick fix. We need to plan for enough fuel to keep burning for the long haul.


(c) William G. Carter. All rights reserved.


[1] Barbara Brown Taylor, quoted by Robert Dunham, Expecting God’s Surprises (Louisville: Geneva, 2001) 44.
[2] Thomas G. Long, Matthew (Lousiville: Westminster John Knox Press) p. 522
[3] PCUSA, The Confession of 1967, 9.54-9.55

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