Waiting for what’s already here
Twenty-third Sunday after Pentecost, 2020
Matthew 25:1-13
Waiting...waiting... How many of us are any good at waiting? And this week has been all about the waiting.
This week I had a lot more empathy for those waiting bridesmaids than I have had before. On Wednesday, I shocked myself by remaining glued to CNN. I found it really hard to leave the screen: things seemed to be happening so fast: I might miss something.
There must have been a point in that long evening when the bridesmaids who hadn’t thought to bring a back-up flask of oil realized their lamps were in danger of going out before the bridegroom arrived. And at that point, did they think, “let’s go and pick up some more – just in case”? Or did they think, like I did on last Wednesday, “If I leave, I might miss something,”?
It is the last week of Jesus’ life. He has entered Jerusalem on a donkey that first Palm Sunday, and he is spending every moment teaching about the kingdom of God, and the urgent need to be ready. Stop messing about! It’s easy to see how this story about the ten bridesmaids fits in.
I don’t know about you, but while I hear Jesus’ message, a message about being prepared for the kingdom of heaven, I am also disturbed by aspects of the story. I see division between the five prepared and five unprepared bridesmaids. I see pointing fingers of judgment. I see a lack of compassion, a lack of mutual support. Couldn’t they have all worked together? And what was the bridegroom doing anyway, knowing that ten young women, not to mention his betrothed, were all waiting for him, late into the night.
But I also recognize that we have all been bludgeoned by stories and images from around the country of rampant ugly divisiveness. At this point we are all highly sensitized to finger pointing and abuse. The tenor of our political conversation has become increasingly rancorous. And while we are hoping that now we have a resolution of the presidential election, this country can begin to heal, we have a long way to go.
Regardless of how battered and divided we and this country feels right now, the kingdom of heaven is just as close as it has always been. Always ready to break into our consciousnesses whenever we will allow it – even if we don’t always recognize it.
Nadia Bolz-Weber, my current favorite contemporary theologian if you haven’t guessed, has a very good example of realizing the kingdom of God after the fact in a story in her book, “The Pastrix: the Cranky, Beautiful Faith of a Sinner and a Saint.” She recalls an occasion where she’d worked hard, single- handedly preparing a Rally Day for her congregation complete with cotton candy and burgers. Very few people came, no-one contributed financially, and her back was seriously playing up. Towards the end of the afternoon, it was decided to take distribute the uneaten burgers to the homeless in a nearby park. They realized Nadia was in bad shape, they prayed with her and laid hands on her back. They cleared everything up. And she went home. At some point later in the evening, she realized that it had been a lovely congregational experience, that nearly fifty homeless men and women had had a good meal, and her back had stopped spasming when her congregation had held her. The kingdom of heaven had broken through, and she had nearly missed it!
It can be so easy for us to pay attention to what we don’t have or might not have. Our fear of scarcity can blind us to the enormity of all that we do have. In one way, it would seem that the story of the bridesmaids is all about those that don’t have as opposed to those that do. But I bet you, there actually was enough oil if they had all been willing to share. The word ‘enough’ has sadly become greatly diminished. To have enough is huge! I think of John Bogle, the creator of Vanguard Mutual Funds, who could have been a multi-millionaire, but deliberately chose not to be: a decision that he explains in a book entitled, “Enough”.
As this morning’s collect reminds us, our fear of scarcity is often what ‘keeps us out of love’s own feast’. How sad is that? Not only does that fear stop us from recognizing how much each one of us has, but it also prevents us from realizing how much we have if we all work together. By sharing what we have, each one of us ends up with more: more oil, more light, more connection, more relationship, more joy. Which is exactly what we’ve been celebrating in our small group conversations about stewardship! Haven’t we laughed together as we have shared what has drawn us to and kept us at Holy Innocents? Haven’t we treasured dreaming and imagining what the years ahead might hold for this vibrant, multi- generational congregation?
We might think that we’re still waiting, but the kingdom of heaven is right here, as it has always has been and will always be. The living, fire of love, never goes out, and if we’re paying attention, our lamps will always be full. As the song says:
Give me oil in my lamp, keep me burning, Give me oil in my lamp I pray,
Give me oil in my lamp, keep me burning, Keep me burning ‘til the break of day.