12 November 2017

Waiting for the Wedding (sermon)


Chetwynd Shared Ministry
Sunday November 12, 2017
Reading:  Matthew 25:1-13
 

And here we have yet another challenging and disturbing parable from Jesus.  If you’ve been keeping track of our weekly readings, the last two weeks we had a bit of a break from the extra-difficult gospel lessons as we celebrated Reformation Sunday two weeks ago, and All Saints Sunday last week.  But here we are, back in middle of Jesus’ last week before he was crucified.

Chapter 25 of Matthew’s gospel comes right at the very end of Jesus’ life.  He entered Jerusalem back in chapter 21 in a parade accompanied by waving palm branches.  He went straight to the temple in Jerusalem where he overturned the tables of the money changers and drove out those who were there to conduct business rather than worship God; and then he healed people who came to him.  The next day, he came back to the temple and started arguing with the religious leaders who were there, challenging them that maybe their practices weren’t quite in line with what God wanted for the world.  The parables that Jesus told, and the arguments that Jesus made were quite pointed and harsh; but at the end of two chapters of arguments, Jesus concludes that the greatest commandments of all are to love God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your mind, and to love you neighbour as yourself.  That’s what was missing from the world that Jesus was living in; and dare I suggest that it is often missing from the world in which we live?

Jesus then turned from the religious leaders to the crowds that were gathered around him, and he continues to preach the same themes – the people who may seem, on the surface, to be most aligned with God are sometimes the people who are furthest from God’s plan for the world.

And after addressing the crowds, Jesus turns to his disciples in chapter 24.  He tells them that the temple in which they are standing is going to be destroyed so that not one stone is left on top of another.

His disciples were amazed.  After all, the temple was the largest structure that they had ever seen or could ever imagine.  The temple was the central point in their religious practices.  Surely the destruction of the temple would signal the end of the world.  So they ask Jesus two questions:  when is this destruction going to happen; and how will we know when the end of the world is coming?

Jesus answers their first question – when is the temple going to be destroyed – with a description of death and disaster and terror, where “the sun will be darkened, and the moon will not give its light; the stars will fall from heaven, and the powers of heaven will be shaken.”  History tells us that the temple in Jerusalem was destroyed 30-some-odd years after Jesus says these words, in the middle of a 3-year revolt of the people of Judea against the Roman oppressors.  The temple has never been rebuilt, and if you go to Jerusalem today, you will only be able to see a fragment of a single wall that is left – the western wall, also known as the wailing wall.

Jesus then turns to the disciples’ second question – how will we know when the world is going to end – and he answers it by telling them that no one knows when the end is going to come – not the angels, and not the Son, but only the Father.  He then expands this answer by telling a series of four parables – today’s reading is the second of these parables – come back next Sunday and the week after, and you will get the third and fourth parables.

It’s interesting timing, that we are getting these readings at the end of the church year, October and November, which here in the northern parts of the world corresponds with the time when the world is getting darker with longer nights and shorter days and colder weather.  The heavy readings seem to correspond with a heaviness of this time of year; and will be broken once we reach the season of Advent and we start looking for the coming of the light.

Anyways, back to today’s parable.  I have a whole pile of questions that I want to ask Jesus about this parable.

Why was the bridegroom so late?  He didn’t show up at his own wedding until midnight!  I don’t know about you, but I’ve been to one wedding where the bride arrived before the guests, many weddings where everything happened on schedule, and a couple of weddings where the bride or groom was a little bit late.  I don’t think that I’ve ever been to a wedding where the groom didn’t show up until midnight!  What’s going on here?

Also, how could the bridesmaids forget to bring oil for their lamps?  The lamps that they would have been carrying were probably more like torches than indoor lamps.  They would have only burned for 15 minutes or so before needing to be re-soaked with lamp oil.  Half of the bridesmaids brought this extra oil that they needed, but the other half remembered their torches but forgot the fuel.  What’s up with that?

And then, when they went looking for oil, they were sent out to the shops to buy some more.  Were there actually shops open at midnight for them to go to?  I doubt that there was a 24-hour 7-Eleven down the street that they could pop in to.

They went out, and Jesus doesn’t tell us whether or not they found oil, but they come back to the wedding anyways.  But when they asked to be let back in to the wedding, the bridegroom tells them that he doesn’t know them.  But weren’t they just at the wedding?  And because they were going to be meeting the groom, chances are these bridesmaids were part of the groom’s household.  Why doesn’t he know them?  They weren’t gone that long!

And finally, my question that gives me the most trouble – why didn’t the five so-called “wise” bridesmaids share their oil with the so-called “foolish” bridesmaids?  To me, this is not a very loving action, and nowhere in the story are these “wise” bridesmaids criticized for their lack of generosity.  Remember that not a couple of hours before this, Jesus said that the second greatest commandment was to love your neighbour as yourself; and two parables later, Jesus tells his disciples that we will be judged by our actions, including the famous line, “just as you did it to one of the least of these who are members of my family, you did it to me.”  And yet it isn’t the ungenerous bridesmaids who are locked out of the feast – it is the forgetful bridesmaids who miss out.

Did Jesus really mean to say that the kingdom of heaven will be like a bunch of girls squabbling over some oil?

Bible scholars tend to take one of two approaches to this story – either they ignore all of these difficulties, or they re-write the ending of it.  The ones who ignore these questions treat it as a straight-forward story telling us to be prepared for the kingdom of heaven, because we don’t know when it is going to happen.  But all of my questions leave me unsatisfied by this straight-forward explanation.  The scholars who re-write the ending of the parable often suggest that either the wise bridesmaids shared their oil so that all of the torches were lit, or that the foolish bridesmaids were allowed into the wedding despite not being prepared.  These re-writes are fun to read – my favourite one is a poem by Thomas Merton where the five scatter-brained bridesmaids show up at the wedding on motorcycles with empty gas tanks, but since they knew how to dance they were invited to stay, and “consequently there were ten virgins at the Wedding of the Lamb.”[1]  They are fun to read, but this isn’t the story that Matthew puts on the lips of Jesus.  In the story in scripture, the five foolish virgins are locked out of the wedding feast.

So what are we to do with this story?  How can we find good news in a story of selfishness and rejection?

The one question that, for me, opens this parable up is when I ask why the five foolish bridesmaids didn’t have oil with them for their torches.  Surely they knew that if they wanted to be able to light their torches later in the evening, then they would need oil as fuel to keep them lit.  So why didn’t they bring that oil?

I think that maybe the reason why they didn’t bring oil with them, is that they didn’t really expect the bridegroom to show up.  They didn’t think that they were going to need to light their torches.  They didn’t expect that there was going to be a party at the end of the evening.

And all of this boils down to hope.  Hope is a funny word because we use it in so many different ways.  The usual way that we use hope is to mean something along the lines of wishful thinking.  I hope to see you soon.  I hope that you are feeling better.  I hope that we get lots of snow this winter.

But Christian hope is more than just wishful thinking.  Christian hope is more along the lines of confident expectation that something good will come in the future.  I have hope that spring will follow winter.  I have hope that lives can be transformed for the better.  I have hope that God’s kingdom of peace and love and justice will come.  A wise friend once told me that because of the resurrection of Jesus, we have an endless source of hope.

So looking at the story of the bridesmaids through the lens of hope, five of the bridesmaids brought oil with them.  They had hope – a confident expectation – that the bridegroom was going to come and that they would need to light their torches.  The other five brought torches but no oil – they didn’t expect that they would have to light them.

When Matthew was writing down the stories of Jesus’ teaching and healing and life and death, almost 40 years had passed since Jesus had died and had been resurrected and had ascended to heaven.  The community had been following the ways of Jesus and passing along his teachings, and they had been continually expecting his return.  But now they had been waiting for almost 40 years – a lifetime – and still no kingdom of God.  They were living in the middle of a war between the people of Palestine and the Roman Empire.  I can imagine that some of them had started to lose hope that this kingdom was ever going to come.  The excitement and anticipation that had followed the resurrection must have started to fade over the years.  Maybe that is why they kept sharing this parable of Jesus – to encourage one another to constantly be prepared.  Even though we don’t know when it is coming, and even though it might be delayed, we can be confident that the kingdom of God is coming.  We can keep our hope.

And here we are, almost 2000 years later, and we are still waiting for the bridegroom to come and the party to begin.  We live in a world that is still full of grief and trauma – where world leaders who hold the nuclear codes are engaging in an ever-escalating dialogue of insults; where climate change is threatening people who are already the most marginalized on our planet; where, in the middle of the tragedy of mass shootings, all of the “thoughts and prayers” that people are offering do nothing to prevent the next tragedy from happening.  How can we live as though we still expect the party, 2000 years later?

We can live, knowing that God is with us no matter what.  We can live, knowing that the Holy Spirit is guiding our lives and calling us to new things.  We can live, following everything that Jesus taught – loving God with our whole hearts and loving our neighbours as ourselves.

The kingdom of God is like a wedding banquet – a feast, a party, a celebration of love, a time of joy.  This is the kingdom that is coming.  This is the kingdom that we keep our hope alive for.  This is the kingdom that we can catch a glimpse of in the resurrection of Jesus.  This is the feast that we anticipate each time we gather around the communion table.

So in the end, I don’t think that the kingdom of God is like a group of girls squabbling over some oil.  Instead, I think that the kingdom of God is like a big party, and everyone who hopes for the party – everyone who expects the party – is going to be welcomed in to it!

Let us pray:
            Holy God,
                        we wait for your kingdom,
                        we long for your kingdom,
                        we hope for your kingdom.
            Bring your reign of peace,
                                                of love,
                                                of justice,
                                                            soon.
            And while we wait,
                        help us to sustain our hope.
            We pray this in the name of Jesus Christ,
            Amen.



[1] Thomas Merton, “The Five Virgins,” in The Collected Poems of Thomas Merton (New York: New Directions, 1977), 826-827.


 (A Foretaste of the Wedding Feast)

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