November 8th Sermon by The Reverend Loree Reed

Matthew 25: 1–13
May the words of my mouth and the meditations of our hearts be acceptable in thy sight, O Lord our strength and our redeemer. Amen.

I saw them in a bazaar in Jerusalem, the delicate clay lamps people used in Jesus’ day to light up a room or light their way on a dark night. No larger than a cell phone, they were shaped like a lady’s slipper. And they could hold just enough oil to light someone’s path for an hour or so – no more. But who ever thought the Bridegroom would be so late? Who ever thought they would need an extra supply of oil? And who, in their wildest dreams, ever thought they’d be judged for their thoughtlessness — for failing to bring extra oil to be shut out from the wedding celebration – by the Bridegroom himself?
This is one of those stories Jesus tells that has a real kick to it. There are parables of grace that have happy endings – like the Prodigal Son coming home to a forgiving father and a blow–out welcome party – or the last–hired workers in the vineyard receiving wages equal to the wages of men who’d worked there all day. But this isn’t one of those happy ending stories. This is a parable of judgment, a cautionary tale that stresses the consequences of failing to take God’s generous invitation seriously. And what makes it uncomfortable, I think, is the nagging sense that he might be talking to us. We suspect we can find ourselves somewhere in this picture. And the question is – are we among the wise ones, who prepared to greet the Bridegroom – or the unwise ones who didn’t bother?
For you and I have also been invited to a wedding feast, a feast to celebrate the marriage between Jesus and his beloved church. The site of this wedding reception will be up in heaven. God is throwing the party to end all parties for his Son and his Son’s bride. And his Son’s bride, believe it or not – is you and me. The whole church. At least we are all invited to take our place in that number. We simply don’t know the timing of the event.
Even so, we’re supposed to prepare for it. Anyone who has given a wedding recently knows that weddings don’t happen by themselves, with no advance preparation. There’s the question of venue . . . and flowers . . . and food . . . and music . . . of tables and chairs . . . of linens and silverware. So if you’ve been invited – especially if you are in the wedding party – you do what you can to assist with the preparations. Failing to help, failing to show up, and even showing up late – are taken as marks of disrespect.
In this situation – in this particular wedding celebration – the help the bridesmaids could provide was to illuminate the Bridegroom’s path as he arrived. For something had delayed him, and darkness had overtaken the scene. So the light the ten bridesmaids could offer him from their small oil–fired lamps turned out to be crucial. At least, the Bridegroom thought so. And we tend to pay attention to what he says is important.
At least, I hope we do, because he is aiming this story as much at us as he was to the crowd that surrounded him that day in Jerusalem. For just like them, we have trouble understanding his veiled allusions to final days and some great tribulation and a fairy tale wedding feast in heaven. Just like them we have trouble waiting and waiting for these events to take place. Maybe that’s why, in the space of just a couple of days before he died, Jesus told them seven different parables, each one of them a different way of describing what is still to come. So what is it that we might miss? What part don’t we understand?
We understand we’ve been invited to a wedding. We even realize, however dimly, that we ourselves are “the beloved” – whom the Bridegroom desires. But, just as it is with any bride and groom, the love and respect has to be mutual. He has to love her – but she has to respond. She has to return his affection and attention. That affection, that attention is the flame of mutual love that burns between them. If either bride or groom lets it go out, there’s hardly a point in going on with the wedding.
Jesus, as bridegroom, demonstrates his love for us daily. He answers our prayers. He speaks to us through these gorgeous Indian Summer days. He comes close to us in our high points and our low ones too. So how are we to live in response?
We are to live, I think, hoping that the Bridegroom will come. We’re to believe those ten words we say so often in the Eucharistic Prayer –
Christ has died.
Christ is risen.
Christ will come again.
To live in hope is to believe that this is so. To live in hope is to believe that God does reign and will always reign.¹ And in that ongoing hope there is joy. There is trust. There is peace.
To remind ourselves of this hope, to live in that hope is to refill our lamps with oil. It’s to keep the flame of our love alive. And each one of us will have a different way of doing that. For one it will be to praise him in some beloved hymn – and feel him come close again. For another it will be to take the afternoon off and get outside in these golden fall days. And yet another will meet him at this Communion rail. I don’t know how you connect with Jesus. I only know that no one else can do that for you. We cannot give one another the oil we need to keep the flame alive. Just as the five wise bridesmaids couldn’t supply the foolish ones with oil, so we cannot give anyone else a relationship with God. ²
The good news is that what we cannot do – God can. And will. If we’ll give him just a flicker of encouragement.
Amen
¹John Vannorsdall “To Wish and to Hope” http://www.goodpreacher.com/backissuesread.php?file=7024

²Keith Wagner “Only the Wise Make Plans” http://www.goodpreacher.com/backissuesread.php?file=7377
 
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