Davis Memorial Presbyterian Church
November 16, 2014
Matthew 25:1-13
Learning to Wait
I don’t think I am
unduly telling tales out of school to observe that some scripture passages are
more challenging for preachers than others. Not to say that any scripture is ever all that easy to
preach, mind you; even a favorite like Psalm 23 presents a challenge to the
preacher if only because it is so well-known and beloved that it can be hard to
find something to say about it at all.
But there are
passages that are challenging for different reasons. Some passages are challenging because of what they have to
say. Sometimes it’s puzzling,
sometimes it’s a hard word to hear, and sometimes (especially if you wander
over to Revelation) its just flat difficult to make any sense of it.
And then there are
passages like this parable from Matthew 25. This presents a different kind of struggle; the struggle to
create a sermon on a passage when you can’t shake the memory of preaching a
sermon, very recently perhaps, maybe even out of this same gospel, that seems
to point to some very different conclusions than the scripture at hand today.
There is much
about this passage that “feels off.”
What Matthew records here just doesn’t seem to fit rightly with what
Matthew or other biblical writers say elsewhere.
Episcopal priest
and blogger David Henson made this point rather dramatically in a sermon in
which most of the verses from this parable are paired with verses, frequently
from Matthew’s gospel, which seem
to be at odds with the text for today. For example, take the simple sentence describing the
bridesmaids: “Five of them were foolish,
and five were wise.” Calling
five of them “wise” seems nice enough, until one remembers 1 Corinthians 3:18-19:
“Do not deceive
yourselves. If you think that you are wise in this age, you should become fools
so that you may become wise. For the wisdom of this world is foolishness with
God.” Worldly wisdom, as it turns out, doesn’t always come off
looking good in the New Testament.
Or how about the “wise” bridesmaids’ response to the “foolish”
ones’ request for oil: “No! there will
not be enough for you and for us.” Yet earlier in this very same gospel
Matthew records Jesus saying “Give to
everyone who begs from you, and do not refuse anyone who wants to borrow from
you.” (Mt. 5:42) Not only do the “wise” bridesmaids come off questionably
for that attributed wisdom, they also end up looking like jerks at the best.
“Those (bridesmaids) who
were ready went with him in to the banquet” (25:10) calls forth “But many who are first will be last, and
the last will be first.” (Mt. 19:30) To finish the verse with “the door was shut” recalls this fierce
rebuke from Jesus just two chapters before: “But woe to you, scribes and Pharisees, hypocrites! For you lock people out
of the Kingdom of Heaven.” (Mt 23:13)[1]
It just feels…off.
The point here is
not to dismiss this parable. For
one thing, the Revised Common Lectionary insists on bringing it around at least
once every three years, and who knows how much Christian education curriculum
will also include this story.
Besides, it’s not our place to toss out scripture that disturbs us. There is something to be learned from
this parable. It might also be,
though, that after decades or even centuries of reading and hearing it, there
might also be some things the church needs to unlearn as well.
It’s perfectly
appropriate to come away from this parable having learned that we don’t want to
end up like the foolish bridesmaids, lacking oil for their lamps and hunting
for a 24-hour Quik-E-Mart in first-century Israel. On the other hand, the wise bridesmaids are not necessarily
objects for our emulation save for the fact of having extra oil. Nowadays that might qualify them more
for an episode of Doomsday Preppers
or some other “reality” show than as examples for our emulation. It’s one thing to be “in,” but there is
simply too much weight of scripture against them to celebrate figures that play
a role in keeping others “out.” The
parable cannot become an excuse to turn into hoarders of the gifts of God,
whether physically or spiritually.
We might also want
to re-think what it means to wait for the Lord. Somehow it seems to have snuck into the collective
subconscious on this parable for many decades or even centuries that the foolish
bridesmaids were somehow at fault for falling asleep, and therefore not being
ready for the coming of the bridegroom.
Of course, the problem with this is that the parable explicitly tells us
that “all of them became drowsy and
slept.” (25:5). The so-called
“wise” bridesmaids were just as conked out as the foolish bridesmaids. Yes, we need to “keep awake” as Jesus
says at the end, but that can’t be what brought shame to the foolish
bridesmaids if the wise bridesmaids did it too.
Also, our task in
waiting is not to busy ourselves with twisting bits of scripture into codes or
clues to nail down the day and hour of any “rapture” or other apocalyptic
event. Jesus says plainly in verse
13 that we “know neither the day nor the
hour.” Trying to prove Jesus
wrong? That’s about as unbiblical
a thing as one can do with scripture.
We should also
steer clear of any interpretations of this parable that foster or encourage an
“us against them” mentality. There
is no “insider” vs. “outsider” contrast here; no “Christian” or “un-Christian,”
no “saved” vs. “lost” in the way we church folk tend to define things. All of the bridesmaids are part of the
same wedding party; they all are invited guests. Only the lack of lamp oil causes the foolish bridesmaids to
be left out. Now this ought to
chill us a little bit, but Matthew has already cited Jesus as saying this same
thing much more clearly and explicitly in chapter 7; “Not everyone who says to me, ‘Lord, Lord,’ will enter the kingdom of
heaven, but only the one who does the will of my Father in heaven.” (Mt.
7:21) There are many who talk the talk, to put it in modern terms, who will
find themselves on the outside looking in, because they didn’t walk the walk.
So what do we
learn from this? No matter how
difficult or challenging the story might be, is there something we should be
taking from this parable as a positive instruction for our lives?
Here it is worth
remembering that this parable doesn’t stand in isolation. These thirteen verses are part of a
longer passage of instruction Matthew records, comprised of chapters 24 and 25,
in which Jesus is teaching on what we commonly call the End Times. Theologians use the fancy word
“eschatology” to talk about such passages in scripture. This was in fact the last of five great
blocks of teaching found in Matthew, and many of the ideas and images found in
this teaching block echo ideas and images from those earlier teaching passages,
now putting them into service of this idea of how it all turns out in the end,
and why.
Chapter 25
actually consists of three parables, each one probably more familiar than the
last. Verse 14 picks up with the
so-called “parable of the talents,” in which the one who fails to manage wisely
what the master left behind is the one who is not only left out, but thrown
out, while the ones who multiplied what the master left them were welcomed into
the “joy of their master.” Finally
Matthew records the “parable of the sheep and goats,” in which what is somewhat
cloudy in the first two parables is made clear; the “sheep” were the ones who
fed the hungry, gave drink to the thirsty, welcomed the stranger, clothed the
naked, took care of the sick, visited the imprisoned.
The Australian
theologian William Loader puts it this way:
It is about
sustaining the life of faith. It is another version of Matthew's theme of
elitism. Having had lamps in hand which
burned well once is no guarantee they will burn in future. [emphasis mine] Having the
status of being Christian, even being a light bearer, means nothing if it is
not a continuing part of our being. Many who were first will be last (20:1-16).
Matthew is interested in enabling people to live in a relationship with God
which has continuing significance and continuing life.[2]
Light bulbs have
to be replaced (even the fancy new energy-efficient kind, eventually). Flashlights need new batteries. The oil in our lamps needs to be
replenished, and regularly.
That oil, that
fuel for a life lived in Christ, is not replenished by spiritualized words and
lofty-sounding pronouncements. It
is not replenished by calling ourselves “Christians” over and over again (or
denouncing those we disagree with as un-Christian). It certainly is not replenished by checking off lists of
do’s and don’ts, carefully drawing lines to make sure “we” are “in,” and “they”
are “out.” “Not everyone who calls
me ‘Lord, Lord,’ will enter the Kingdom of Heaven, but only the one who does
the will of my Father in heaven.”
And that will, as
the sheep and goats learn to the surprise of both, is to feed, give drink, care
for, welcome, clothe, take care of, visit. We refuel our lamps by plunging into the work of God.
We refuel by
entering into worship, not as an accommodation to our whims and tastes, but as
a desperately needed encounter with the God who drives us out into the world to
do God’s work. We refuel by diving
into the scriptures to understand God’s call upon us, to seek in Jesus’s life
and work our own life and work. We
refuel by opening ourselves to the unpredictable and unsettling movement of the
Holy Spirit, who calls us in ways we cannot expect or predict.
In the end, this
is how we wait. We wait because we
are called by a merciful and gracious God who wants no one left out. We serve, because we know what is to be
the foolish bridesmaids, fumbling in the dark with empty lamps, but also
because we know what it is to be the “wise” bridesmaids, fearfully hoarding our
treasure from those who need it so much more than we, the very Spirit we were
meant to share.
We wait by feeding
and clothing and welcoming and visiting.
We wait by questioning why there are so many who need feeding and
clothing and welcoming and visiting.
We wait by being the body of Christ, by walking the walk as well as
talking the talk. Anything less is
a robbery of the God who calls out of darkness into light, who calls us to love
God with all we have and to love neighbor as self.
With lamps trimmed
and burning, with lives fueled by God’s love moving through us into the world
in word and deed, we wait.
For faithful
waiting, Thanks be to God. Amen.
[1] These
examples and more from David Henson, “The Breaking of the Bridesmaids:
Rethinking a Problematic Parable (Lectionary Reflection),” http://www.patheos.com/blogs/davidhenson/2014/11/the-breaking-of-the-bridesmaids-how-scripture-undermines-a-parable/
(Accessed November 4, 2014).
[2] William
Loader, “First Thoughts On Passages From Matthew In the Lectionary: Pentecost
22,” http://wwwstaff.murdoch.edu.au/~loader/MtPentecost22.htm
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